Song: Two Birds by Regina Spektor
A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful break. Sorry this is late. I got sick and could not look at a screen, but I'm all better now. So please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters.
Present Day: November 1899
Jaime's POV
I was heading to Medda's to get ready for a gig she had for me.
Spot's story still ran through my mind.
I just can't believe he had to go through that.
I hated it. I hated how scared he looked when I brought up his mother. I hated his teary eyes as he revealed why he was there the night we met.
What I didn't tell him was that the man he had mentioned was likely my father.
I'll tell him, later.
I knew my father had become irrational following my mother's passing, but I never knew he had been doing shady jobs for somebody.
But why? It couldn't have just been for money. I mean he lost his kids, his best friend, and he's in jail for 20 years.
Medda would know. She was his best friend, she knew him better than anyone, except Mamma of course.
"Hello Jaime," Medda smiled. "You're here early."
"I's wanted to ask you's somethin'. If that's alright with you's of course."
"Why of course it is. Come sit."
I sat down in one of her chairs. Her smile is wider and brighter than ever. This is going to be hard.
"Now what is it you wanted to ask me?"
Here goes nothing.
"It's about my father."
Her smile dropped.
"What about him?"
"A few things. Why did you's two drift apart."
"It's like this..."
Medda: Two birds on a wire
One tries to fly away
And the other watches [her] close from that wire
He says that he wants to as well
But he is a liarFlashback: June 1870
Medda's POV
I noticed a young boy sitting by himself at the park. He was drawing quietly, occasionally looking up in my direction. I recognized him from my father's work.
Our fathers worked together. I knew the boy was adopted by a middle class family. My family like his are Swedish immigrants. Although I never heard him talk much at school.
Young Medda: I'll believe it all
There's nothing I won't understandAs I continued my song and dance, I debated going over to him. I was a street musician and unlike most working in the street, I did this by choice when I didn't have school. I've always wanted to be a performer.
When I had finished my song and dance, I went over to the boy and sat next to him.
"Jag är Medda," I smiled, sticking out my hand. (I'm Medda)
"Elias," he quietly replied, shaking my hand.
I'll believe (I'll believe) it all
I won't let go of your handI looked over his sketch pad to see a quick sketch of me dancing.
"Är set jag?" (Is that me?)
Two birds on a wire (Oh-oh-oh)
One says, "C'mon" and the other days, "I'm tired"

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8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon
FanfictionJaime Kelly, also known as "Books", is the leader of the Lower Manhattan Newsies. She loves her Newsies like they're her family. Every 8 Days she goes to see her best friend, Spot, the "King of Brooklyn". Everything seems to be going pretty normal u...