Due to complaints from blueyes719@optonline.net that I should get rid of this story and all other slash stories (mostly based on the fact that she didn't like slash), I have been inspired to add chapters to what was supposed to be a stand-alone ficlet. If you wish to see the hate mail that blueyes719@optonline.net sent me about this, by all means, e-mail me. I'll forward you all of her e-mails at once. They're quite funny. It's her own fault, after all. It says in the summary that this is slash, so if she knew she didn't like that sort of stuff……..It even says in her first e-mail to me not to say "well, you shouldn't have read it then" because 'that is just gay'. Sometimes I think I understand what motivates the human race (money, love, adventure…) but then sometimes I think that maybe it's just blatant stupidity. Oh well. If you like this chapter, wonderful. If you don't...*shrugs* Either way, leave me a review!!!

BTW... Words in // or ** are meant to be emphasized.


Spot sat on the pier and shot small rocks at a row of bottles left by last nights drunks'. One by one, they all shattered, and Spot felt an odd sense of release in doing that. He was VERY angry at Jack right now, for deserting the newsies in their greatest time of need. If /he/ was the leader, he wouldn't have given in to the scabs. Spot kicked and empty crate off the pier with such force that it gave a healthy crunch under his foot. Several broken pieces disturbed the usually calm waters between the docks. He stood and watched the rippling die down, and then turned to go back to the Brooklyn Boarding House. It was right on the docks, and not as big or nice as Manhattans', but it was home.

Walking in the door, he motioned to his two best friends from Brooklyn to come over. He had two from Manhattan, too. Pockets and Maddy walked over to him and waited for him to tell them why he interrupted their poker game. "Let's walk over to Jack's place."

"Okay." Pockets threw his hand on the table. "I was gonna loose that one anyways."

"Hold on Spot, lemme finish this hand, aright?"

"No. We go now." Maddy cursed under his breath, but threw down his hand and followed. No one argued with Spot when he got that way. And he had been that way for a few days now. Jack had been arrested, and some of the boys went to break him out, but he wouldn't go. Davey had reported that Jack was making some kind of deal with Pulitzer. Spot didn't believe it, but the next day when he was striking with Race, he himself saw Jack come out with the Scabs. That was day before yesterday, and the last day he had been to Manhattan.

The three of them turned to go, and Spot reached to pull the door open when it swung forward of its own accord. Spot looked out and saw Race, looking very tired in these early morning hours, and holding a small stack of papers. "Can I, uh, talk to you a minute Spot?"

"Shuah." Spot stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him so that none of his boys would follow. Spot half grinned at Race and led the way to their usual meeting place that was just out of view of the boarding house windows. They sat on the edge of the pier and leaned against the back of some old gangplank, that had been there for as long as Spot could remember. One of the older newsies who was gone now had once told him that their pier used to be used a lot, but a boat was there once and the captain was drunk. He wrecked into the side, and tore a hole in the hull.

The passengers used this gangplank to get off the ship in a hurry, and they all blamed not the captain, but the pier itself in the wreck. So they just started using it less and less, and then it was only fisherman and the newsies. One old fisherman who only had a small dingy had chopped the gangplank in two and nailed it up to form a small two sided shelter for his rickety old boat. He was the last one there and for a year he lived in that shelter. He had eventually added a roof of mostly torn up crates, and one day he never came back from fishing. But that had all happened before Spot was there so he had no superstitions about the gangplank shelter like some of the others did.

"Hey Spot. We'se missed ya."

"Yeah, I'se missed *you*, Race." Spot looked hard at Race. Race began fidgeting after a moment. He knew what Spot wanted, but he also knew what *he* wanted. And those two things weren't the same.

"Yeah. Hey, listen, Jack came back. Yesterday. And we stayed up all las' night and dis mornin' printin' these." Race handed Spot one of the papes he had been carrying. "We're gonna have all the woikin' kids in da city rally with us dis time, not just the newsies. You gotta bring Brooklyn, Spot. You gotta." Race handed Spot about a dozen more papes to pass out amongst his boys, and Spot took them. "I ain't got time to sit with ya's right now. I gotta get back and get Jack's boys to the square. Me 'n Blink, we's been sorta temporary leadah's while Jack's been gone, so I dunno if they'll take 'im back widout us."

Spot just looked at him, and Race got up to go. "So I guess I'll see ya deah." He began to walk off.

"Race, wait." Spot stood up. "Please, Race. Dis ain't like me, ta be chasin' no one. Usually I'm da one gettin' chased. But, Race, can't ya jus'..."

"Look, we been through dis already, remembah? I ain't gonna do that."

"Race, I...I jus' want you ta be wid me moah. I want ya ta come around, an...an...an do what we did in da jail again." Spot internally cringed at his pleading voice. It was totally against his way of living to be pleading with someone for their favors. Especially with a boy.

His blue eyes stared down Race's chocolate ones for a few moments. Until Race finally said, "It mighta been diffrent foah you, but foah me, it was jus' a one night thing. I only date goils, and play wid da boys foah kicks." The immediate pain in Spot's eyes caused Race to have to turn around before finishing. "What we did dinn't mean nuthin ta me." He walked away, leaving Spot on the pier alone, clutching the papers like a lifeline.

The whole way back, Race cursed himself for having to so that. He knew he had feeling for the Brooklyn leader. Deep feelings that no one could ever deny. But he also knew what happened when two boys tried to make it work. He had seen that first hand more than once. It was never pretty. Twice both of them had even been killed. It was different when it was two girls. All they had to do was let a couple of the guys watch once or twice, and it was considered okay. Race would never understand how that double standard worked.

Once back at the Lodging House, Race called all the boys downstairs. He explained that Jack was back for good, that the strike was back on. Most of them had already heard, and a handful of them had been in on the printing and delivering of the papers, but they had been ordered to keep their traps shut until Race or Blink explained everything at once. This was to try and get rid of the rumors that run so rampant when there is a good story to tell, but no one knows the full details. And being newsies, they all excel at making up details and stories. Finally, the story was complete, and Race said "So anyone who want's ta go down to da Square wid us, let's go now."

Race and Blink set off, meeting Jack, Davey, and Les there. Not all of the newsies had followed, but there was an all right number. They all knew that all the kids they delivered fliers to had to come down for their plan to work though, and Race was busy worrying about Spot. He was unsure of whether the Brooklyn side would come down now, after what he said to their leader. Spot would never tell his boys that anything went on, but he would have them not go to the rally, and they would obey orders.


Okay, from here on out, stuff happens just like it did from here to the end of the movie. There are no private conversations between our boys, and there are no weird plot twists or anything that you need to know about.


And now I'm leaving you for today, and I shall have a new chapter soon!!!