Sorry for updating again today, I'm not trying to get annoying or anything, but I've spent a ton of time on this one and I'm super proud of it, I couldn't wait any longer! This one is one I've been working on for probably a month or two. I hope ya like it!

***

"Sean, sit down!" Mary Conlon sighed.

"I wanna play!" The boy whined.

"You have to wash up if you want supper!"

The small boy considered it for a second, then slowly sat down. Mary tried to clean some of the dirt off of his face and had to hold him still as he squirmed away from the damp rag.

"There! All done!" He proclaimed, pushing her hand away.

"Sean Patrick!"

Sean pouted and reluctantly let his mother return to wiping his face and hands, though he complained the whole time.

When she finished Sean jumped away from her and hurried over to the other side of the room to play with his brother, who'd just woken up from his nap.

A quarter of an hour passed before the thin wooden door squeaked open. Sean's head shot towards the door and, seeing his father, he leapt to his feet. He ran over to the man and jumped into his arms. The man swung Sean around, causing him to erupt in a fit of laughter.

"You've been a good boy today, haven't you Sean? You've been behavin' your mam?"

"Yes sir!" Sean nodded enthusiastically.

"You even washed up when she asked?"

Sean hesitated, then shrugged guiltily. His father chuckled and ruffled his dark hair. Michael had also toddled over and Mr. Conlon picked him up as well.

"And what about you Spot? You've minded your mam, right?"

"They've both been angels," Mary said affectionately.

"There's my beautiful Mary!"

Mary laughed as he set the boys down and spun her around the room.

"William!" She gasped, playfully batting him away as he planted a kiss on her cheek. "What's gotten into you?"

"Can't a man love his wife and sons?"

"Of course you can, but you're unusually happy today," Mary replied as she wiped her hands on her apron.

William leaned closer to Mary and lowered his voice. "I've got them. The tickets. We leave in two weeks."

"Really?" Mary grinned.

"Yes, we're going to America!"

All throughout the small dinner William explained the wonders of America to his sons. Michael didn't understand much of what his father was saying, but Sean listened with wide eyes, in awe of the faraway land that would soon be his new home.

"We will be rich! In America every man is a king!" William declared. "Life will be better there," he finished.

And Sean believed him.

***

When William returned home from work one evening four days before their departure, he was greeted by wailing.

Mary was singing softly to Michael who was screeching and crying. Sean was sitting in the corner, shoulders hunched up to his ears as he played quietly with a few smooth pebbles.

"What's wrong with him?" William asked worriedly.

"I don't know, he's been like this all day! I haven't even finished supper yet!" Mary cried.

"Let me 'ave him. You finish supper."

Mary handed him the child gratefully.

"What's wrong Spot?" William cooed. The toddler slowly calmed down, though he continued to sniffle softly.

"Da?" Sean asked. "Will you tell me about America again?"

"Of course," William smiled. He shifted Michael so Sean could also sit on his knee, then began to weave stories of the faraway land.

"When we're in America we'll have a feast every night! You'll go to school and have a warm bed. Whatever you want will be yours!"

***

No one in the Conlon family got much sleep that night. Michael had tossed and turned and cried all night long. By the next evening not much had changed. When William arrived at home Mary looked exhausted. Her cough, which had persisted for several weeks, was worse than ever and her eyes were dark.

"He has a fever William. His throat is red too. I don't know what's wrong."

"He'll be fine. In a few days we'll be headed for America. He'll get better there!" William insisted, ending the conversation.

Again Sean asked about America, and Mary experienced another coughing fit. When she removed her hand she cringed.

She knew that spending so much time with Mrs. Macdonald was a bad idea. With everyone in the village getting sick it was only a matter of time.

Mary dabbed the blood off her lips and fingers. How would she tell William?

"And I'll even get your mam a stove once I've saved enough! But you can't tell her! It's a secret!"

"Okay!" Sean giggled.

Mary's face dropped. She couldn't tell him yet.

***

It was the night before the Conlons were due to leave and Mary knew that the trip wouldn't go as planned. Not only had her cough grown steadily worse, but Michael's illness had progressed as well.

His temperature had continued to rise and he was now experiencing chills. In addition, his throat hurt so badly that he could barely call for his mother when he needed her. Sean had sat by him all day. He hated seeing his little brother so sick.

"Mammy? Is Spot going to get better?"

"I don't know darling," Mary responded sadly. "But whatever happens is God's will."

Sean pouted, but nodded and returned to Michael's side.

As soon as William stepped in the door Mary pulled him away from their sons and began rapidly speaking in a hushed tone.

"You need to take Sean and leave right now!"

"What? Why? Slow down!"

"Michael is very sick. He can't get on the boat tomorrow. He must stay!"

"He'll get better!" William argued.

"Go over and look at him."

William sent her a questioning glance but did as she had said. Mary sent Sean outside as William observed the three year old.

Mary slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a dark red rash that covered his stomach and chest. It was also spreading across his face, the freckles that had earned him his nickname were hidden beneath the bright pink.

"No," William whispered, paling. "No, no!"

"Scarletina," Mary murmured, eyes damp. "He's got a few days left."

"Well just have to stay then. They won't him on like this and we're not leaving him."

"You can't miss this chance. You even have the tickets!"

"What are we to do? Leave him alone to die?" William hissed.

"I'll stay with him."

"I can't leave you here Mary! How will you get to America?"

"William, you must be the one to go."

"Sean will need his mam! How am I to raise him alone?"

"You can get a job and support him! It has to be you!"

William grabbed his wife's arms, shaking her slightly. "You'll die if you stay here!"

"And I'll die if I go!" Mary exclaimed.

"No you-

"I'm dying William. That's why I've been coughing so much. I've only got a month or two myself."

William's heart dropped. "What is it?"

"Consumption."

That was enough. Consumption wasn't something you could survive. Neither was scarlet fever. His wife and youngest son had been condemned to death.

"I'm so sorry."

"Then take Sean and go!"

"The boat doesn't leave until tomorrow. Besides, this is my last night with you and Spot. I can't leave now!"

"You don't have a choice! Sean needs to get away from here!"

"He'll be fine for one night! He's strong."

"He's also six! Scarletina preys on children! He's lucky he hasn't caught anything yet. I don't want to chance it. If the fever doesn't kill him, consumption will."

"Okay," William choked out. "I'll take him."

"Thank you!" Mary cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "He will live!"

***

"You'll mind your da, won't you?" Mary questioned as she buttoned up Sean's thin jacket.

Sean nodded eagerly. "Of course!"

Mary studied his face, memorizing every detail, before pulling him in to a teary hug.

"I love you Sean!"

"I love you too Mammy!" Sean exclaimed.

"Never forget that," Mary whispered.

"I won't."

"Good," Mary straightened up, giving Sean one last smile.

"It's time to go," William said gruffly, giving Sean's elbow a tug.

"But I didn't say goodbye to Spot yet!"

"You can't go in there, he's sick. Do you want to get sick too?"

"I want to see him!"

Sean tried to pull away from him and William sighed and swung the boy over his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing Mary's cheek. For a second they were no longer the 25 year olds, worn from work and sickness, but the 18 year olds getting married, nervous but completely in love.

Mary brushed a few tears from her husband's face. "I love you too."

***

"Sean. Sean! Wake up!"

The small boys eyes fluttered open and he peered at his father, trying to make out his face in the dim light.

"What's goin' on?" He whispered.

"It's time to go, we have to get to the boat!"

Sean leapt to his feet, brushing dirt off of his pants. His father led him out of the alley where they'd spent the night and in the direction of the shipyards.

William held back a yawn as he walked. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the exhaustion. He'd been up all night trying to make sure that no one attacked them while they waited for morning. Of course he'd never tell Sean this, he didn't want the child to worry.

Besides, they were going to America. It was safer there.

***

The journey to America was quite possibly the most horrendous thing Sean had ever experienced. It was dark and cramped and the smell of it left the poor boy gagging. He and his father, along with all of the other passengers in steerage, were confined to the bottom of the ship except for an hour or so everyday when they could stretch their legs on the decks. Those moments were few and far between and even when on deck, you could see nothing but the endless blue of the ocean and sky.

Eight days had passed and the constant rocking left Sean in a constant state of nausea. He was certain that, upon arrival, his face would be permanently green.

The journey was taking a toll on him, but he didn't dare mention it to his father who was so hopeful about the new country. He tried not to ask many questions of William, who'd grown more reserved in the absence of his wife, but Sean was dying to know how much longer the trip would be. Luckily he didn't have to wait long to find out.

No one was exactly sure how the information came about, but the news spread like wildfire throughout the passengers.

"America! We're almost there!"

"-an hour, maybe less-"

"-can see it!"

The words filled Sean with a renewed excitement. They were almost in America, the land of wealth! He could hardly believe it.

Sure enough, within an hour, the boat had stopped moving. William held his son back and waited for the ship to empty, trying to keep the small child from getting trampled in the mad dash to get off of the boat,

"Stay close to me," William whispered as they climbed the stairs.

They stepped onto the deck, immediately met by the blinding sunlight. Sean threw a hand up to block the sun, squinting as he tried to catch his first glimpse of the country. His other arm was held tightly by his father as they made their way off the ship.

The change from a week on a boat to solid ground had skewed Sean's balance. He could barely stay on his feet and his legs felt weak, but the excitement of being in America was too great to be spoiled by trivial discomforts.

The first building that caught Sean's attention was the big, brown, circular sandstone building that they were being directed to.

"Castle Garden! Right over there! If you're off the boat go to Castle Garden!"

"Castle Garden," Sean repeated in awe.

The awe didn't last long. It was quickly replaced by fear as they got into the 'castle'. It was loud, louder than anything he had ever heard. Voices echoed off the walls, each seeming to be in some strange language, all of them different. Sean grabbed his father's shirt nervously as his eyes darted around.

They were directed down the hall and up some stairs. Sean curiously eyes a man who seemed to be scanning all of the passengers as they walked. A man at the top of the staircase was doing the same thing. He made a mark on a man'a shoulder with chalk and the man was sent down a different hall from the rest of his family.

When they reached the top of the stairs the man stopped William, taking a closer look. Sean's heart pounded and he clutched at the back of William's shirt. After another second the man motioned for William to continue on.

William did, relief overwhelming him. He wouldn't be sent back. His relief was short lived. A small sniffle from behind him had him spinning around to face his son.

"I thought they were gonna take you away from me!" Sean cried.

"Oh, no, no, no!" William whispered as he picked the boy up. Sean's arms wrapped around William's neck and he buried his face into his father's chest. "I'm never leavin' you."

"Keep the line movin'!" Someone ordered.

William immediately began walking, but didn't bother to set the child back down.

The next man they ran into had to check their eyes for some strange disease called 'trachoma'. The process involved taking a buttonhook and flipping the eyelid up so the doctor could see the whole eye. Sean knew that it would hurt and had no intention of letting the thing near him. He tried to squirm away as the doctor held the hook close to his eye.

"Sean! Stay still!" His father hissed.

Sean stopped moving but his body shook as he felt the hook tugging and pulling painfully at his eyelid. His eye was burning and when the doctor had finished both eyes, Sean clung even closer to his dad, crying quietly.

"It's over," William whispered soothingly as he brushed a dark lock of hair from Sean's face.

Sean nodded and dried his face, suddenly feeling quite childish as his father set him back on the floor. He was six! Why was he crying? He'd just sailed across an ocean in the dark and here he was crying over a buttonhook! He was in America! He should be happy.

Sean tried to remember this as he and his father stood in the line for what seemed like days. His feet grew sore and he wanted to sit down but there were no benches or even barrels, and when he'd tried to settle on the floor, his father had given him a quick swat to the back of his head so that was also out of the question.

Finally they reached a big wooden desk with a portly man in a bowler hat seated behind it. The man was asking his father lots of questions and Sean grew bored of the talk. He just wanted to see America!

He ran his fingers over the smooth desk while he waited. It was the nicest desk he'd ever seen. However, this action also seemed to test his father's patience, for when William noticed he delivered another sharp smack to the back of Sean's hand.

The action left Sean's hand smarting, though not nearly as much as his pride. His ears burned as the other children laughed and giggled behind their hands. If it had been anyone else he also would've been entertained, but now he was humiliated, for he'd been the one to publicly receive a knuckle rapping.

One boy laughed loudly and pointed straight at Sean, who's face grew hotter. The other boy soon clammed up however, after his own yelp of pain as his father gave his ear a twist and a yank. That was far worse than a rapping, Sean knew from experience.

Luckily for Sean, all of this reprimanding and consequential shame had lasted for the rest of his father's 'interrogation' and they'd been approved for passage into the country. They grabbed the one carpetbag they'd brought and finally stepped out into the bright city that was New York.

***

New York was more incredible than either of the Conlons had imagined. The buildings towered overhead, disappearing into the clouds. The noise was so terribly loud that one could hardly stand it, but to Sean it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

People hurried by in carts and on trolleys. The crowds were so thick that an immigrant didn't stand a chance at finding anything. You'd be pushed down the street before you even knew you were a part of the mob. The Conlons had no choice but to cling to each other until they could step off into a little pub.

William certainly didn't want his boy in a place like that, but he definitely didn't want the child waiting out there on the street to get pulled out and lost in the sea of people. He settled for covering the boys ears as he directed him through to the bartender.

William's heart had leapt when he'd seen the sign, for part of it was in Gaelic and he knew that there must be someone there who could help him. The bartender turned out to be of little use to anyone other than the drunks, as he didn't seem to be one for civil conversation. He also wasn't one to give favors unless he received something in return.

William was almost regretting entering the establishment in the first place when one of the patrons helped him out. William wasn't sure if it was because the man was genuinely kind of if it was an apology for trying to persuade Sean to down a glass of ale, but William didn't care. He hurriedly thanked the man and dragged a disappointed Sean back onto the street.

"Brooklyn is the place for workin' men," William repeated to himself. "Jobs, livin' quarters, a good Irish school, and a church for the Catholic."

Brooklyn sounded like the perfect place for the Conlons to start their new life, so that was where they headed.

***

If Spot had been impressed by New York, he was in awe of Brooklyn. After only an hour there he had decided that Brooklyn was far superior to New York City and he had been pleased to be making his home there rather than across the bridge in New York.

Not only that, but the Conlons appeared to be in luck. It seemed that the man in the pub had known what he was talking about. The next morning William had found work as a laborer and by that evening he and his son were renting a bed in a tenement. The room was cramped, dirty, and full of strangers, but it was all they could afford and it was better than the streets. They could stick it out for the time being.

One of William's wishes had always been to send his boys to school. Here he had the chance and he planned to send Sean to school during the day while he worked. It didn't look like that would work out though. After the first day the poor boy learned that he was so far behind that he'd cried for hours, begging his father not to send him back to the school where he'd been ridiculed for not knowing the alphabet.

William sent him back the next day anyway. Sean came back that afternoon shivering and sneezing. He'd been ten minutes late and the teacher decided that a suiting punishment would be to lock the door and make the poor boy stand out on the stoop in the rain for three hours. He spent the whole time looking in the windows as the teacher drew the letters on the blackboard, trying to remember what the teacher had called them. At lunch the teacher allowed him to come into the class to finish the day, but he'd been given three lashes for being late and one more for missing class.

When William heard this he was furious, but still intended to send Sean back. Then Sean's sneeze turned into a nasty fever that left him bedridden for over a week. He'd grown even frailer, which worried William because Sean had always been a small boy who'd taken easily to sickness, and he was worried that sending him back would only cause the boy more illnesses.

Instead William decided to send Sean to school the next year and to have him play across the hall for now. A kind family, the O'Reillys, lived there. They had a son a year younger than Sean and the two boys got along swimmingly. It was the perfect arrangement.

William was relieved that his son had at least found someone to play with. He didn't want him to remain shut up in the tenement room for twelve hours a day while William worked. Sean had grown lonely without his father. The only day that Sean and William really got to see each other was Sunday.

Every Sunday they got up with the sun and they would scrub their skin raw, trying to rid it of all the dirt from the week. Sean would even comb his hair before they hopped on a trolley to the cathedral.

Every Sunday they sat in the last pew, just the two of them, with the exception of a dark haired woman and her son. The boy looked to be about Sean's age and Sean had considered talking to him after service, hoping he could make a new friend. He'd gotten as far as asking his father if he could go speak to him when the other boy started talking.

"Mamma! Perché parla così stranamente?" He'd asked, staring right at Sean.

His mother had quickly shushed him, muttering back a response, then smiled warmly at Sean, but the boy had already changed his mind. He was too frightened by the boy's loud voice and strange language to say anything.

***

Sean knew that America wasn't quite what they'd expected, but he thought things would get better. It seemed however, that luck was not on their side.

William was exhausted, that was obvious. He'd work from the early hours of the morning until the middle of the night. He was growing paler by the day and had obtained a persistent cough.

"Please let me heal," he prayed one night as Sean curled up against him. If this was serious he would die and Sean would be left all alone in the terrible city. "Let me live!"

But nothing was going to go in the Conlons favor. It wasn't long before it became obvious that William was suffering from consumption, just like his wife had.

It was early November when William lost his job. The sickness was making him weak, he was having trouble keeping up. The other men also refused to be near him for fear of catching the illness themselves. William refused to look any of the men in the eye as he hurried out of the foreman's office.

He picked Sean up from the O'Reilly's, trying to hide his shame as he led the boy out of the building. He knew that they would be needing food, they couldn't afford to stay in the tenement any longer.

"Where are we going da?" Sean asked, tugging on his father's hand.

"I'm not sure yet, but we'll figure it out."

They ended settling in for the night in a grimy side street behind a theater. Sean didn't complain, he just laid down and fell asleep, but William couldn't ignore the guilt and humiliation he felt every time the boy shivered or whimpered.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered, drawing his son closer and kissing the top of his head. "I'll fix this."

***

Fixing things wasn't going to be as easy as William had hoped. There were lines for every job he came across. Sean had taken to following his father in his search for a job, but William didn't mind. There was no way he would leave the young boy alone to roam the city, so Sean came along and did his best to help his father get a job.

"How about there?" Sean asked, pointing to a small shop on the corner.

William was hesitant, he'd have better luck getting a job in a factory or as a laborer, the shopkeepers didn't usually take too kindly to immigrants. Especially ones with as thick an accent and as sick as William. Still his eyes followed the boy's finger to a sign which proclaimed its need for worker, but underneath that someone had scrawled, 'No Irish'.

William couldn't read, but the men that they'd roomed with in the tenement had pointed out many of these signs and explained what they meant. William had learned to recognize the words and he knew that he wouldn't be getting a job there.

"They don't need any more people," he said softly.

"But maybe if you ask-"

"No Sean. They don't want me."

"Why not?" Sean asked, brows knitted in confusion. "You're strong and can fix things good!"

"Sean," William said, pulling his son to the side and crouching down to his height. "The people here in America don't like us."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," William replied, shaking his head.

"The kids at school didn't like me," Sean admitted quietly.

"Don't listen to them, Sean. Ya hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Don't you ever apologize for who you are. Promise me that."

"I won't," Sean said. He didn't quite understand what his father meant, but he made sure that he wouldn't forget it.

***

William had given up on finding a job. He was now so weak that he could hardly walk. What little money they got from begging during the day would be given to Sean who would go find something cheap to eat.

Everyday William would refuse all but a few bites. He was dying whether he ate or not. The best use for the food would be keeping Sean healthy and alive.

His only joy came from seeing his son smile when he was finally able to eat, though that was nearly outdone by the crippling guilt he felt as he watched the child scarf down whatever they'd managed to scrounge up.

They now slept in an alley, curled up together to keep warm during the chilly November nights.

Somehow William still found the strength to get up every Sunday and go to church, though they could no longer clean up. Each week they showed up dirtier and thinner. William had grown gaunt and his cheekbones poked out. Sean's ribs were visible and his arms appeared to be just bone covered with skin.

William avoided everyone's eyes while they were at church, he could feel their pitying stares, only a reminder that he couldn't provide for even one other person. As soon as service was over, William would rush his son out and they'd be back on the streets for another week.

With winter beginning, Sean was beginning to enjoy church more than he ever had before. Rather than complaining about going, it was all he would talk about all week. It was warm there and it sheltered them from the constant snow and wind.

He was also starting to like the boy who sat at the other end of the pew. He hadn't really talked to him yet, but the boy would sometimes smile and give him a small wave when Sean and his father would show up. He'd even taken to making funny faces at Sean when he grew bored and his mother wasn't looking.

One day as Sean and his father hurried out the doors, heads down, the boy broke away from his mother and darted towards them.

"Antonio!" His mother cried, exasperated, but the boy ignored her and he stopped only when he'd reached the Conlons. He stood in front of Sean and reached into his pocket, withdrawing something that looked like bread.

"Ecco! Prendi," he said, holding it out. At Sean's confused look he huffed and grabbed one of Sean's hands, placing the bread into it. "For you," he added, stressing each word.

Then he turned around and was back with his mother before Sean could thank him.

It had become a habit for the boy, who arrived before the Conlons, to leave bread on their seats. Sean's father was embarrassed, but grateful for how it helped his son.

It didn't seem like they'd be going this Sunday though.

It was Saturday night and it was snowing heavily. Sean had somehow managed to fall asleep already, but William was still awake and he didn't like what he was seeing.

Sean's whole body was shaking and his cheeks shone bright pink, a sharp contrast from his lips that were slowly turning blue. Sean whimpered, his teeth chattering loudly. Clouds of white surrounded the boy every time he took a breath.

William watched for a second longer before he sat up, muscles complaining, and slowly slid his coat off. He nearly cried out as the winter air bit at his skin, easily passing through his threadbare clothes, but he ignored it. William wrapped the coat tightly around Sean's tiny form, then wound his arms around the boy, trying to keep him warm. He pressed his lips to the boy's forehead before closing his eyes.

"I love you Sean."

***

Sean's eyes opened slowly. He reached up to brush some snow off of his shoulder but his movement was restricted by something heavy on his side. He looked up and saw his father's arm resting across his body.

"G'mornin'," he said as he sat up and turned to face his Dad.

His dad didn't answer.

"Wake up!" Sean laughed, nudging his father's shoulder. "Ya can't sleep all day!"

Still no answer. Sean grew worried and began to shake his father by the shoulders, desperately trying to wake him.

Sean was a smart boy. By then he had realized that his father was dead, and he scrambled to his feet shaking his head and wailing. Then he ran.

Sean ran until his legs gave out, collapsing at the edge of a dock. No one was around to hear the poor boy's cries.

He sat there in the cold all day. Without his father he didn't know where to go or what to do. He couldn't live without his father.

A hand on his shoulder had the boy glancing up from where he'd buried his head in his arms.

A tall, freckly boy stood staring down at him, arms crossed on his chest.

"You okay, kid?"

Sean sniffed and shook his head.

"Where's your folks? You lost?"

Again Spot shook his head.

"Where's your mother at? Ain't she been keepin' an eye on you?"

"She's in Ireland," Sean whispered.

"What about your father?"

Sean face scrunched up and he started to cry again. "H-he, he's gone and ain't c-comin' back!"

The boy seemed to consider this for a second. "You got a place to stay?"

Sean shook his head and the boy laughed . "Course you don't, why'd I ask? Youse probably five!"

"I'm six!" Sean muttered indignantly.

The boy laughed again. "I like your spirit, kid. What d'ya say you come back to my lodge and we start you as a newsie? Sound good?"

Sean's father was gone. He had no one. There was no choice but to trust this boy. This might be his only chance at surviving, not that it really mattered now that his family was gone. Still, Sean nodded, wiping his eyes.

"Good."

The boy spit in his hand and held it out for Sean to shake. Sean hesitated and the older boy rolled his eyes.

"Well go on!"

Sean copied the boy's actions quickly.

"Welcome to the business, kid. Ise Knuckles, the King of Brooklyn."

Sean thought for a second before introducing himself. His mind drifted from his father, to his mother, and finally to his little brother that he never got to say goodbye to.

"I'm Spot. Spot Conlon."

***

So.... what'd y'all think? Yes or no? Decent backstory? It ties in with my other book too, so I'm pretty happy with it.

Sorry that it's so long.

Also, sorry to Mr. Brooks, my algebra 2 teacher. Most of this was written in your class sir. I'm sorry, but I understood the concepts already and inspiration struck. Besides, I've got an A so you can't complain.

And I just wanna say, I had a terrible time with the immigration process! I looked up Ellis Island to find out how it worked, only to learn that it didn't open until 1890, and this is 1889, so I had to do tons of extra research, but there's not much on Castle Garden, so I really just copied Ellis Island's process.

Anyway, thanks for reading this one shot!
-Anna