Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney Inc. I claim no ownership of any characters originating from the movie. On the other hand I do claim sole rights to any original characters you may happen upon in the future.

Author's Note: Where to begin? Firstly, this is a rewrite of the original May Hell Freeze Over. I've been very unhappy with the first edition and found it imperative that I do something about it. So here it is. A few things had been changed around (OK, I lie, it's a lot) character wise and plot wise. I suggest, for those who are familiar with the old version to take most of what you remember and throw it out the nearest window. It was good, but this will be a million times better.

On that note, if you feel pressed to have a copy of the original story, contact me and let me know. I'd keep it up, but has rules about double posting, even if certain things have changed. And I don't want to be on their poo list, if you know what I mean.

I won't be writing individual responses to reviews any longer. It takes up a considerable amount of story space and time. I will on the other hand acknowledge those reviews that make some sort of contribution to the story itself. Sorry if this, well, sucks. But it's how I feel.

This Town

Chapter 1

He was giving him that look. The one where his full lips were pulled thin by a frown and his eyes, despite the harsh afternoon sun illuminating his face, were dark and hooded. The "Cowboy Stare" as some had nervously named it didn't go unnoticed by Spot. The difference between him and the many others who'd been subject to the stare before him was simple. Spot Conlon could give a New York rat's ass.

"Look here, Kelly." He pointed a finger at the younger man leaning on the crates across from him. In subject of years there was little age difference between the two but a few months. Spot didn't gage the issue of age by years; he went by experience. In his eyes, Jack still had very little. "The way I see it, you own me one."

Jack crossed his arms and turned his heavy gaze to the other boys milling around the docks. Most were lacking shirts or pants. Some both. Dressing down was understandable though considering the heat wave the city had been experiencing for the past couple of days. Everyone was uncomfortable. It was too hot to sit inside waiting for the relief of nightfall. As a result most of the city was out trying to beat the weather. It was like molasses, sticky and viscous, but still sweet. And that little bit of sweetness made it all right. This was the only time an upper class gentleman would share the shade of some building (and luckily his flask if he was feeling especially generous) with a street rat and put on no airs.

He turned to Spot. "I don't want nothin' to do with that goil."

"I don't care what you want. This is my favor. You can accept it, and we'se even." Spot smiled a little and shrugged, "Or, you can turn your back on me, again I might add, and I make your life a living hell."

"I thought you were over that. 'Forgive an' forget,' right Spot?" Jack frowned.

"I forgave, I'm neva gonna forget. I put my neck on the line for you, and you turn scab."

"You don't know my reasons for doing that." He retorted. "And I'm not having this conversation with ya again."

Spot sighed quietly and pulled off his cap to run his fingers through his sweat dampened hair. He didn't like Jack's attitude, nor did he like relenting to him. But he had neither the energy or the patients to start the feud again. It had taken months for them to regain a small semblance of their former friendship, and the situation that he was currently in was too important to break that fragile bond.

He placed his cap back on his head and crossed his own arms. "You're gonna hear 'er out at least."

Jack was staring off into the distance again, trying to ignore the demanding tone in the other boys voice. "Well, I didn't walk all the way 'ere for nothin'."

A few moments of silence passed between the two of them as the summer sun continued to beat down on their already baked shoulders. Spot glanced longingly at the river, wishing he had the luxury of going for a swim like that others did.

"Duty." He muttered. Jack gave him a questionable look, which he ignored. "She's late."

"She's from Queens. Or course she's late." Jack responded, as if it explained everything. Spot just frowned.

The stone under their feet continued to cook as they waited for the girl in question. It was high noon, time for lunch and maybe a nap. But he was out here waiting for Rogue, who probably wouldn't been on time to her own funeral. It was an incredibly annoying trait that most Queens newsies shared. Spot always suspected that there was some other motivation behind it besides their horrible concept of time management. It had never been a problem until she took over.

"How's ya goil doin'?" He asked suddenly, "What's 'er face..."

"Sara." Jack said for his benefit. "She's fine." He was didn't say any more about it.

"You two pretty serious, huh? It's been ova a year." He continued, trying to get the other boy out of his lousy mood. He also figured it wouldn't hurt to get his mind on something else, particularly another female. He and Rogue weren't exactly on the best of terms. Hadn't been so for a number of years.

"Yeah, I guess. What's dis all about, Spot? Why is she callin' for help all of a sudden?"

And they were back on the subject of her again. Spot leaned back on wooden post behind him.

"Don't know. Merc came 'round this morning and said she needed to talk." Merc was from Queens, and pretty much Rogues third eye and ear. He was fairly young and easy to ignore. People tended to forget that he was around. For that reason, Merc knew almost everything that went down in the city. Not to mention he was fast, so on the rare occasions that he did get caught sticking his noise someplace it didn't belong, he'd simply turn tail and run. Spot had given him his name. He remembered stories about a messenger for some gods that was legendary because of his speed. He could never remember if it was the Romans or the Greeks. Either way, the name was a hell of a lot better the what the kid had before Spot christened him. No respectable newsie went around being called Wilbur.

"You're lying." Jack replied. "Somethings goin' on. The other boroughs are edgy. But nobody knows what the problem is. 'Cept for her and you."

"Hey, don't go round accusing me of things." Spot responded, defensive because he actually did know. At least part of it. Merc may have claimed Queens as his home but he was loyal to anyone who offered the highest price. "And what does it matter? Ya here and ya gonna hear it straight from 'er mouth."

The glared at each other before Spot frowned. "You know, somebody needs to do something 'bout that bad attitude of yours."

Jack took the bait. "I suppose you want to be that somebody, right?"

"Yeah, maybe I should-"

"Well if you two ain't a sight for sore eyes, I don't know what is."

He turned to the person who'd cut him off. Rogue was standing there with her hands on her hips, her weight rested on her right leg.

"You ladies done with ya bickering? I kinda got somethin' important to talk about."

She raised an eyebrow as she reached in her front pocket, pulled something out and popped it into her mouth before turning around walking away.

"Crazy broad." Spot growled after her and followed with Jack close behind.

"Can we get this over with, Rogue? I've already been waiting on you for an hour."

She stopped next to a tall, brawny boy. One of the Queens newsies that had been around for as long as he could remember. He threw an arm over Rogue's shoulder when she stood next to him. They had always been each others security blankets, like brother and sister. In fact, she was closer to him then she was to her actual brother, who showed up in New York a few months after she did. Despite his appearance, and the tenacious behavior that went with it, Brute had a soft spot for her.

"How's it going?" He greeted them.

"Burning up, but alright." Spot tilted his head up a little. "You?"

"Ratty." He said, but didn't elaborate.

"The city coroner buried Saint yesterday." Rogue said suddenly. Spot frowned. Merc definitely hadn't mentioned anyone dying when he saw him earlier.

"Say dat again?" Jack spoke to her for the first time since her arrival. He sounded a little confused, but mostly upset.

"You heard me." Her voice was soft and not in the least bit belligerent. She just sounded tired, and now that Spot thought about it, she looked in too. "I was hoping it wouldn't escalate to what it has, but no one seemed that interesting in helping me keep the peace. Saint," She paused to chew at her bottom lip, "He got caught up in it. I told him to leave it alone, but he neva really listens to me much anyway."

"What are you talking about? What the hell is going on?"

"Spot didn't tell you?"

"No." Jack turned to him. "Nobody's told me nothin'."

"She's having a turf war." Spot said, reaching behind his ear to for a hand rolled cigarette, then fishing in his pocket for a book of matches. "It's been goin' on for about a month now." He lit the cigarette, taking a long drag before shaking the match out and exhaling. "Told you dat kid was a loony. Shouldn't have taken him in."

"What can I say, I'm hard at hearin'." She pulled out of Brute's embrace and reached for Spots cigarette. "The kid, his name is Johnathan Wilcox. He showed up back in the spring lookin' to be a newsies. Like Spot said, he was a little crazy. I mean, you could see it in his eye, ya know? But he didn't have a place to stay and he had dis sister he was trying to care for. I felt bad for 'em." She inhaled twice and handed it back to him before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her pants.

"Things were alright for awhile. He and his sister were both selling papes and sleeping at the lodging house. But they kept to themselves. Sometimes he wouldn't even come back afta selling, and if he did he'd be out of his head with booze. The kid's got a lot a vices, and I think he does more then drink. I finally said something to him, told him if he didn't shape up he was out. Course he flips and starts screaming a yellin' and stuff. We got into it, but some of my boys roughed him up a bit and put him out. His sister, she went with 'im."

"What's this got ta do with Saint." Jack asked.

She turned to him, her look glower. "Let me finish, will ya Jacky Boy?"

"Don't call me that."

"Pissy mood you got there. You on the rag?"

"Hey," Spot jumped in, "Cut that mess out and finish what you were sayin'."

She huffed and folded her arms, "Saint died cause he couldn't mind his business. Wilcox is tryin' ta take my place, and I'm fine with standing my ground on my own. I'm fine with people that can handle their own backing me up" She paused, looking past them at the kids idling around the docks. "But people like him, like Saint, shouldn't get involved. It ain't right." She sighed, reached into her pocket again, and popped a small brown object into her mouth. Spot recognized what she was eating. Pecans. She probably grabbed a bag during her walk. He did mean grab. It was very rare that a Queens newsie paid for anything they could steal without getting caught.

"I didn't come here to ask for your support," she said while still chewing. "I just want to ask a favor. House some of my kids. The young ones, and a few that don't know what to do with a fist. That's all I want."

Suddenly all eyes were on him and inwardly Spot cursed. Being the most respected news boy in New York had its perks. A lot in fact. But he could never get over the fact that so many people looked to him to make their decisions.

"That's all you want?"

She nodded.

"I can spare about five or six rooms. They'll have to double up, but I don't suspect they'll complain to much."

She nodded again and then turned to look at Jack, who was still scowling.

"Yes or no, Jack. I need an answer before rapture."

"Keeping your newsies won't bring me into the fight, right? My boys won't get caught up in your bull?" He asked. She seemed ready to jump down his throat. Her eyes narrowed and her tongue darted out to wet her lips, something she often did when she was about to say something particularly nasty. Spot was already calculating ways to halt the verbal blows that they were about to sling, but Brute salvaged to situation even before it got started. He placed a hand on her shoulder and then spoke something softly to her.

"Ah hell." She exclaimed before running a hand over her face. She turned to look at Brute and they exchanged an unuttered understanding. "My bull." She repeated and the hand on her shoulder tightened slightly.

"Fine." She hissed through gritted teeth. "No, your boys aren't in danger of bein' caught in my fight. He's only interested in people that stand up for me."

Jack seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. "I don't want no kids. Kloppin's got enough trouble with us. He'd don't need any Queen brats causing him heart failure."

"Whateva you say, Cowboy." She pushed Brutes hand off while sending him a glare. "That's all I wanted. I'll send 'em over before nightfall, when it cools off a bit."

They both started to walk away, but Spot called after her.

"Hold up a bit, I'se wanna speak to you." She nodded at Brute and he went on.

Jack moved up next to him still frowning. "Any reason for me to hang around?"

"No."

"Good." And then he was gone, retracing the same path through the docks that he'd taken to arrive and ignoring, as usual, the threating stares he got. That left him and Rogue alone. She ate another pecan and looked at him with questioning eyes.

"What's goin' on over there?"

She brushed off his question. "You got some more leaves? I need a smoke."

"Inside. Come on."

When the reached the lodging house he went in before her, not bothering with the courtesy of holding the door open for her. She was too rough around the edges to care either way. But when he glanced at her over his shoulder she looked pissed. He stopped and turned to see what the problem was and she shoved him. Hard. Hard enough to make him stumble a little as he tried to keep his footing.

"Asshole." She spat at him before hunching her shoulders and bowing her head. Spot watched with confusion as she launched her self at him, tackling him and bringing them both to the dirty floor. He had enough presence of mind to minimize his impact with his own shoulders as much as he could so he wouldn't end up with his skull cracked open. But her weight and the force with which she went at him was enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.

She sat up with one hand, using his face as leverage, and he remembered humorlessly that this used to happen a lot in the past. He thought she'd grown out of the habit, but since she hadn't it was time to do something about it. He didn't like being pushed around by anyone, even if it was a girl.

"Why'd you bring 'im here?" She demanded. He responded by grabbing her waist and pushing her backwards. At the same time he bucked his hips up. She lost her balance and went sparling on his legs, which he easily slipped from under her. In a mater of seconds he had their positions reversed, except he had her arms pinned to her side with his knees. She stared at him, her face placid except for widened eyes, but he could tell she was fuming inside.

"Now," he exhaled and grinned down at her with no amount of amusement, "Can we talk about this like adults?"