I am alive! I apologize that this update took forever and day, my life and my inspiration don't always meet up when I want them to. Hopefully, updates will happen more often than every six months. Whoops.

March 27, 1900

"Hamato!"

Leo's head jerked up from the machine he was watching, to find a supervisor looking at him expectantly. His brows furrowed in concern and he wove between the workers to meet the man.

"Come with me, Leonardo. Mr. Seely needs to speak with you about your brother." Without another word, he turned on his heel to the stairs, leading him to office at the top of the building.

He already knew it was about Donnie; it usually was about his brother. His anxiety increased as he was forced to follow behind the man at a steady pace. He couldn't tell how bad the news was; they never said anything about the nature of the situation until they were behind closed doors. It wasn't his place to say anything until then.

At last, the door opened, and Leo could see his brother. Donatello was in a chair across from the manager's desk, sitting very still and trying to make himself as small as possible without retreating his head in his shell. That kind of behavior led to serious consequences.

"I didn't mean to. I promise. Please, just give me another chance…"

"What's going on?" Leo stepped past the supervisor to his brother's side, putting a hand on his shoulder as he looked at the manager.

Mr. Seely watched the brothers from his desk. "Donatello was caught reading instead of maintaining the machines at his post."

"Again." Murmured the supervisor standing by the door. Donnie was the only one who gave any sort of notion that he had heard the comment.

"Thankfully he was caught before any damage could be done." The manager finished. Leo's expression darkened ever-so slightly. He knew well enough that the "damage" he was referring to was that of the machine on account of something happening to his brother, and not his brother himself. Mutant or human, Mr. Seely was not one to put too much concern on the welfare of his workers. Most were only children, and who in this day and age really cared about them?

"I've already given you a warning, Donatello, at your brother's insistence. We need to give your position to someone who will do the job, and do it correctly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Donatello bowed his head, looking at his feet again. Leo's hand tightened on his brother's shoulder, and he nodded.

"We understand."

"Good." Mr. Seely leaned back in his chair and waved them away, prompting the supervisor to open the door. "Now go, I have no more business with either of you." He pointed to the brothers as he continued, first Donatello, then Leonardo, "I expect you to leave immediately, and I expect you to return to your station just as quickly. I don't want any more delays today."

The brothers were escorted out of the office. Donatello went to collect his things from the workroom, keeping his eyes to the ground as he met back up with his brother in the hall.

"Don't linger, Hamato." The supervisor growled at Leo. "The machines are not going to work themselves."

Leo glanced at the human as he patted his brother on the shoulder, giving him a half-smile as he walked away. "Go home, Donnie. I'll finish my shift, and then we can talk, all right?"

Donnie nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he turned and left, followed closely behind by the supervisor. About half a dozen kids were waiting outside, looking at him hopefully as he exited. In no time at all, they were swarming the doors in hopes that the supervisor would pick them as a replacement.

Oh well, someone's got to get paid… He glanced back, only for a second, before he hurried off down the street. His pace was a quick walk until he turned the corner, and then he ran. He needed to get away from that place, as fast as possible. Even if getting fired was something he was never proud of, he could feel a little of the weight on his shoulders lift in leaving the factory behind.

For a little while, at least, until he found employment elsewhere, he could pretend that he was free.

Mikey shuffled along down the street, clutching the large, sodden sack of papers. He hadn't even stopped by the general store to say hello to Angel and the other workers, only trudging along, heading straight towards home.

It was always hard when someone new came around looking for work. While newsies generally looked out for each other, a new worker always meant more competition. And today, this new worker had his eye on Mikey.

It almost seemed a convenient coincidence that it had rained the night before. There were plenty of puddles about, and plenty of mud in the places where the streets weren't laid down in stone and bricks. All it took was one well-disguised shove in a crowd to send the turtle sprawling. Now Mikey's papers were useless; completely illegible to anyone who could actually read. If anything, they would make good kindling for the stove once they dried off, or to reline the box he kept outside the tenement.

Thankfully, since the strike in July, any papers that weren't sold could now be refunded at the printer's. But since his papers had been damaged, it had taken some convincing to get his money back. Even then, this mishap set his earnings back. The headlines were old now; even if he went back with new stacks his chances of making a sale were very slim. Hopefully, tomorrow's headlines would be promising. They were what made or broke the sale, after all.

Let's see… sixty cents per hundred papes, and each sells for a penny… Mikey tried to do the math in his head, but gave up quickly. He would have to wait until he had his slate to write down the numbers, or just check with Donnie to see how much he'd have to sell to make up for his losses today. Most likely the latter, since it was easier.

He set the stack on the stairs to the tenement and grimaced at the ink that had bled all over his arms and sleeves. He was grateful for his foresight in taking off his jacket prior to walking home. Until he could get a new shirt, he could hide the ink stains under his jacket.

Leaving the papers on the steps, Mikey wandered around the side of the building into the small alleyway. He smiled as he was greeted with a loud mew, and crouched down as an orange cat padded out from the crate that was located underneath the window to their apartment.

"Hey there, Klunky. Had a nice day?" Mikey reached out to let the cat sniff his hand before rubbing him between the ears. The cat's green eyes slid closed and he rubbed against the turtle, his tail swishing lazily. Mikey couldn't help but smile at Klunk's good mood; it was days like these that he wished Leo would allow the cat in the apartment.

"He would be another mouth that I'd feel pressured to feed, and he sheds." His brother had said, his tone implying that that was the last he'd discuss of the subject.

Mikey sighed at the memory, working his fingers under Klunk's chin. The tom began to purr, pushing himself even harder against his leg.

"Whoa!" Mikey let himself plop to the ground before he lost his balance, and gave a defeated laugh as Klunk immediately moved onto his lap. The weather was still cold, being early Spring, but he could manage cuddling a warm kitty for a while before he went inside.

He hummed a little as he ran his hand over the cat's back, watching the people come and go out in the street. It was a lot quieter here than where he sold his papers. There were also bicycles and carriages (Mikey could only hope that an automobile would come through this part of the city), but not many came by. He was watching the laundry being hung out on the lines in the street above when he noticed someone familiar approaching the tenement.

Mikey pushed Klunk off his lap and ran over to greet Donnie, smiling cheerfully as he collided into him for a tight hug. Extra tight, to squeeze away any of the sads. There was only one reason why his brother would be coming home so soon.

Donnie got canned… again.

Leo set the plate of beans and baked potato next to Donnie's elbow, and seated himself at the table with his own food. His brother merely glanced at it, before he returned his attention to Mikey, who was hunched over his slate, trying to figure out his problem from earlier.

"Here you go. Is that all the numbers you need?"

"That looks fine." Donnie took the slate from his brother and did a double-take. "Why did you buy so many anyway?"

"Today's headline was swell, that's why!" Mikey explained as he reached for his own plate. "I could've gotten good coin if it hadn't been for the new newsie trying to take my corner."

"He's the one that pushed you?" Leo asked, raising a brow.

Mikey merely shrugged. "It happens. There's always a new kid, looking for some territory to sell in. I just gotta be tough and let him know that it's my corner, and he can go looking somewhere else." He was about to take his first bite when Donnie tapped him on the shoulder, presenting the slate to him with the completed problem. From what Leo could tell from his brothers' expressions, Mikey's earnings had been set back by at least a couple days.

With a sigh, Mikey began to shovel in his food, speaking between bites. "No sir… He ain't… isn't… gonna take my corner… even if he is bigger and older."

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Leo sighed, "Just be careful, Mikey. I'd prefer it if you didn't get yourself hurt."

"It's not like I'm trying to!" Mikey huffed, "It's just hard sometimes! Work is difficult."

Donnie exchanged a look with Leo for a moment before they nodded in agreement. "It really is." Muttered Donnie, taking a stab at his potato.

The rest of the night went about as it usually did. Donnie managed to get Mikey to do some more of his studies, and Leo read a few pages of Huckleberry Finn aloud before he started to yawn too much. The younger two went to bed shortly after, and it was then that Leo was able to have some time to himself, time to think without distraction.

It smells like a printing press in here. He smirked as he glanced up from his writing, watching the drying newsprint pages sway gently from the various places they were hung from. He yawned again and stretched in his chair, and was just about to extinguish the lamp when he heard his brother's voice coming from the other side of the curtain.

"Leo… I'm sorry."

Leo paused and took a look at his old pocket watch. It was nearly midnight, and Donnie was still awake? With a soft sigh, he closed his notebook and quietly moved the chair next to the bed, carefully drawing back the curtain a ways. "I know you are." He said softly, glancing at Mikey. The youngest was out like a light, his limbs sprawled out over more than his part of the bed. Leo looked to Donnie again and gave a small smile. "I would think you would've learn by now, though, not to read in a factory during your shift."

"I… I know." Donnie shrunk a little under the covers, "I can't explain it, Leo. I need to know things. Sometimes the need drives me crazy that I just can't help it. I need to read, to learn… and if I'm stuck doing menial tasks for too long, I…" He trailed off, staring absently at the lamp on the table behind Leo. His brows were knitted together and his mouth was a thin line, thinking of what he could say next.

Leo couldn't possibly understand the extent of went through his brother's head. He knew that Donnie was intelligent for someone his age. Even before he could read, their mother would read aloud to them, and he would cling to her, softly repeating the words she spoke. These days, he just about devoured every book he could get his hands on, and would spend hours upon hours discussing with Mr. O'Neil about various theories proposed by the scientists of the day. Much of his rare free time was either spent studying, or experimenting, or building, with whatever he could get his hands on. Sometimes the inventions worked—such as the lamp on the table—or sometimes they scorched the walls of their apartment. Thankfully, they had Mikey's scrap paper art to help with covering up the latter from the tenement owners.

He may not know what goes through his brother's head all the time, but he knew full well how much he despised having to work.

"…I'll find another job soon. I promise." Donnie's earnest tone broke through Leo's thoughts, and the older brother nodded. Times were hard, they needed all the money they could get. Donnie could learn from April's books—and her father, when he wasn't busy—for the time being. Right?

… Right?

"I know you will." He rubbed Donnie's head, smiling softly as he reached for the curtain, "Get some rest, all right? It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Donnie nodded wearily and yawned, "…'Kay. Good night Leo."

"Good night, little brother."

Just a note: The strike that is referred to is the Newsboys Strike of 1899. If any of you have seen "Newsies," that is when the movie takes place.