The Bridge

1

August 15th, 1899.

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"(Y/N), do I have to go to bed?" Lila whined in her older sister's arms, tugging at the sleeves of her own (Lila's) pajamas. (Y/N) chuckled slightly to herself as she set her little sister down on the bunk they shared.

"You have to sleep if you want to be aware, Lila. You can't be tired in Manhattan - you'll be soaked." (Y/N) stated bluntly. Lila frowned, but nodded in an understanding demeanor. She was smart for her age, no doubt, and trusted her sister.

"Can you tuck me in? I know you have to go to the other place, but.. please?" The little girl squeaked, sliding under the covers. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at the small girl, who had hope in her eyes.

"Aren't you getting a bit old to be tucked in?" (Y/N) teased, poking Lila's cheek. Lila giggled slightly, knowing her sister was most certainly going to tuck her in. She was very caring - something not uncommon for a newsie.

(Y/N) pulled Lila's covers up to her chin as she snuggled into the mattress. She brushed a few hair's out of her little sister's forehead and leaned down, planting a soft kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Lila. I love you." She murmured as the little one closed her eyes. She was out in a few minutes, but suddenly another voice piped up.

"Femme..?" A groggy voice croaked from the other side of the room. (Y/N) turned her face to see Crutchie, without the crutch, sitting up in his bed with a dreamy look in his eyes. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows at him.

"Need something, bud?" She said softly as she approached his bed, worry written all over her expression. Was he hurt? Was his leg bothering him tonight? Was he just going to tell her goodnight?

"Can you tuck me in too..?" He meekly mumbled, an embarrassing look on his features. (Y/N) smiled at him sympathetically and nodded, knowing that Crutchie was a good kid and deserved someone to tuck him in.

Crutchie was like a brother to her. They didn't have any romantic intentions towards each other, and were both genuinely close - like how Davey and Jack were close, how Race and gambling were close, et cetera.

(Y/N) gently pulled the covers up to his chin, smoothed some hair out of his face, and kissed his forehead softly and platonically. He closed his sleepy eyes.

"'Night Crutchie. I love you." She repeated the phrase from before in a platonic way (of course.) When (Y/N) was just about to head out, a third voice rose up above the silence of the lodging house.

"Femme, can youse tuck me in too?" Race's voice chirped.

"Me too!" Another voice yelled.

"Me five!" A more air headed boy requested. (Y/N) sighed as all the voices in the lodging house were suddenly asking to be tucked in by her. She didn't have the heart to tell them no. So, she went through the task, giving them all soft forehead kisses and telling them she loved them. After that, she headed out with a smile on her face.

She really did love those boys - they were her family.

_____

(Y/N) whistled to herself as she walked down the Brooklyn streets, her day's pay in her pocket - a dollar and fifty cents. It had been a good day for tips, and thus she got more then usual. She was also rather satisfied about it.

It hadn't dawdled on her that she was still in her newsie clothing, nor did she remember that she could be mistaken for selling in someone else's terf. Perhaps, though, this was the best at the time.

Because as she neared the brooklyn bridge, a red blur suddenly popped out of thin air and knocked her to the ground. She shrieked as she bumped her elbows and her hat fell off. She tried to sit up, but she seemed to be pinned down.

"What're ya' doin in my borough, Manhattan?" The angry masculine voice that had her pinned down growled. (Y/N) struggled under his weight, but he seemed to be stronger than her - she just couldn't get a good look at him in the dark.

"I-I'm just going home from work at Harvey's!" (Y/N) replied, using her knee to loosen his hold on her. He replied to this by somewhat letting her go, but he still had a knee on her chest - thus keeping her down.

"Yous a newsie yet youse working' over at Harvey's?" He sneered, standing up and moving his knee. (Y/N) pulled herself up, dusting off her shirt and pants. She nodded at the boy, crossing her arms.

"Sometimes a newsie doesn't pay enough to keep food on your sister's plate." She retorted, rolling her eyes at whoever it was that had nearly attacked her. He sighed, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"Alright, seems legit. What's ya' name?" He questioned as (Y/N) began walking again. She stepped into the light, and he followed the mannerism and did the same - and (Y/N) finally got a look at his face.

Her first thought was wow, he's pretty short. In all honesty though, (Y/N) couldn't care less. Despite that, he had a really toned figure. Like, holy shit - have you seen his biceps? His eyes were steely and he seemed aggressive. Overall, though, he was a cute boy - however, (Y/N) wasn't fazed. She lived with a bunch of cute boys.

"My friends call me Femme, so you can call me (Y/N)." She answered as she stuck out her hand for him to shake. He chuckled to himself slightly, but took her hand with a strong grip and shook it.

"Do you happen to have a name?" (Y/N) inquired as she tucked her hand back into her pocket. The boy smirked and nodded in the same way Race did when trying to sell an extra paper to a pretty girl (or boy.)

"They call me Spot Conlon, king of brooklyn." He countered, taking (Y/N) aback. This was the 'high and mighty' Spot Conlon? This five foot four inch pillar of sass? (Y/N) knew she had to carefully choose her words if she didn't want to be soaked.

"Am I right to assume that's a self proclaimed title?"