Author's Note: Here's chapter four. As things are planned, there is only two more chapters to go. I might be able to eek a third one in for explanation purposes but I'm not sure yet. Anywho, enjoy!

And I want to give a quick shout out to Cookie :) Thanks for the plug(s), my dear. I was honored by it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, Newsies


Empty Apologies

You keep saying that you're sorry, Jacky Boy, but that don't mean nothing to me.


Jack Kelly
1134 Cerrillos Rd
Santa Fe, New Mexico
(Territory of the U.S.)


July 7, 1900


Alright, you knew this was coming. There was no way that I was going to let you get the last word – especially after the letter you sent me back.

You may not see it – considering you're in your precious Santa Fe – but I've got one big ass smirk on my face. I knew. I just fucking knew it. I told you before, Jacky, that I got a brain – and not just half of one. I knew you loved me just as much as I knew I loved you.

But, no. You had to go and mess everything up by leaving.

Have I mentioned recently how big of a coward you are? Well, just in case: you're a coward. Coward.

And, you're so stuck on yourself that it's crazy. Have you thought about me at all? Goddamn it, Jack! I'm half the size of some of my boys – do you think they like taking orders from a queer? But they do. You know why?

Because I'm Spot fucking Conlon, that's why. So they listen. Just like your boys would have listened. But you never told them.

Maybe if your head wasn't shoved so far up your ass you would have known that.

And what about the Mouth's sister? She was a fling. Nothing more than a sad attempt to try and convince you that you're normal. But you ain't. And, instead of taking the news like a man, you ran away.

As for your sorry's

You keep saying that you're sorry, Jacky Boy, but that don't mean nothing to me. Your words are empty.

They're nothing but empty apologies. And I don't need them.

Keep to your precious Santa Fe. New York's too good for the likes of a chicken shit like you anyway.

- Spot Conlon