The Edge of Tomorrow
By: Laney S
Author's note: Hello! If you're reading this, this is my first re-written chapter of this story. A little bit of background info: I wrote this story back in '05 as a sequel to my other story Just to Love. Life got in the way and I fell off the wagon (so to speak). This story sat unfinished for five years. Now, I have come back and found I have the desire to finish this story and give it an ending. I also realized that for this to work I was going to have to attempt a re-write because my writing, along with myself, has matured quite visibly. Reading back through the old chapters left me wanting to fix many, many things. So here it is! Now as some people told me in prior reviews, this story is very dark as it starts out but I promise that in future chapters it will venture into lighter territory again. Also, please note that I will be doing this chapter-by-chapter as the original chapters were lost long ago and now only reside here on . So I apologize for the inconvenience this will probably cause and the distinct difference between this chapter and the next. I will however, do my best to crank these chapters out.
Well, that's all and I sincerely hope that the re-write makes this story more up to par with some of the better fics out there (I can only hope).
I suggest reading Just to Love first but if not, I've basically made this into sort of a re-cap chapter, so it'll help.
Disclaimer: Disney owns all rights and characters of the Newsies franchise.
Chapter One
Spot Conlon is Dead
Two months had passed since the dock-side lodging house of the Brooklyn newsboys had burned to the ground. Two months had passed since seventeen year old Spot Conlon had lost everything of value in life. His job, his home, his position as leader, his boys and worst of all, two people that had mattered the most to him. After the fire, Spot and a few others had retreated to Manhattan in an attempt to seek shelter. Many of his original gang had long since abandoned him with some joining the rival gang that had torched his territory and others just sort of trailing off to places unknown. For Spot, time had lost its meaning. The sun may as well have never set or risen for each day felt like the last and continued to feel like a gruesome reminder of the events that had transpired.
Spot lie still as stone in his small, lower bunk bed. The mattress sunk into the bed frame from his weight and the flimsy thin sheet of cotton that covered him was bunched down near his waist. His normally handsome face told the tale of tragic defeat. His skin, which was normally soft and smooth, now occasionally required a shave as slight stubble dotted his jaw line. His steel-blue eyes now seemed darker and heavy circles were etched beneath them. His hair remained unwashed most of the time and greasy. If truth be told, he didn't give a flying rat's ass about much anymore, let alone physical appearance.
As Spot lay there, he mentally struggled to string together the events that had led to his current situation in chronological order. For a year or so after the Pulitzer strike things had been a cake walk. Life had been good for him. Then something had happened that had set events into motion that would eventually lead to his fall from grace. A young girl named Reina had been brought to the Brooklyn lodging house by some of his boys. Back then it had been pretty normal for Spot to send his boys to scavenge empty houses for any valuables that may have been left behind. He had, however, never issued them orders to bring anyone back with them, but then again he had never said not to either. He remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on her and remembered not being particularly impressed. He'd certainly wooed and even bedded girls more attractive than the cold, dirty wreck she'd been when she'd first shown up.
Against his initial resignation and with some convincing from his partner, Kid, he'd taken her in. A move which he remembered dreading at the time because girls just weren't newsies, not when there were whorehouses aplenty and stages and waitressing jobs around. Selling papers was typically reserved for boys and if there were girls doing it, they did it alone. However, to his surprise Reina had actually been able to hold her own and even outsell him once or twice. That once or twice had fueled his resentment towards her coupled with the fact that she had the annoying habit of often being right and one up-ing him in front of his boys. He had soon learned that Reina was un-like any girl he'd ever met in many ways. However, he had more often than not felt that he had wanted to kill her rather than sleep with her. This resentment had led him to making one of the (if not the worst) choices in his young life and he'd never since felt particularly good about it. His initial plan was to have Reina taken to the sanctuary for homeless kids where she'd be out of his hair but at least looked after. It had backfired because she had fallen into the grasp of a very evil person whom Spot had lost the one girl he'd ever loved to; Edward Vanderbelt.
Edward Vanderbelt was a liar, a monster and all around scumbag. Vanderbelt ran a place called "The Scarlett Room" but everyone knew it for what it really was; a bordello were girls were more often than not abducted to and forced to sell themselves. Vanderbelt specialized in what Spot had heard called, "Virgin cargo" – selling a girl's virginity to the highest bidder. It was what made him well off and made his bordello more popular than others that were home to used and older prostitutes. All highly illegal but Spot suspected that Vanderbelt had probably managed to pay off all the right people in money and flesh so that he could remain in business.
Vanderbelt had abducted the only girl that Spot had ever truly felt love for; Moira O'Malley. He had kidnapped her and forced her into being one of his whores and then he had killed her himself when she had attempted to escape. Spot had not found out until it had been far too late. He'd never even gotten to say, "Goodbye" to Moira. Since that incident, Spot had vowed that someday Vanderbelt would pay for his crimes and atrocities. When he had abducted Reina, Spot couldn't let her suffer Moira's fate. He had gone to save her and he remembered how she had pummeled him and slapped him. He'd deserved it and he had remembered that was the moment that his feelings toward Reina had changed somehow. Perhaps it was because she never cried even though he knew she'd been scared and hurt deeply by his betrayl. He found her ability to pull through the worst situations unique and endearing.
After the escape, Spot had felt something deep for Reina. He still had not been pleased with how easily she always managed to rile him up or make him look like a fool but he certainly didn't hate her any longer. They soon became close and Spot allowed his mind to drift to the night they had shared his top bunk in Brooklyn. He remembered the way they had talked and how he had opened up to her and she to him. He had even told her his real name, something that not even his right hand man, and best friend, Kid knew.
Then he had kissed her.
It had not been like any of the other kisses he'd shared with other girls. There was no lust behind it or sexual intent. It had been tender and timid and true and it had been a kiss he had only ever shared with Moira. He had not been entirely sure if he was in love with Reina but there was something that had continued to draw him to her. Through it all they had become good friends and very close. That is why it hurt so much now, in the present. He had lost her and he was afraid the same despicable person was to blame and even more afraid that she now shared the same fate as Moira. Spot felt that he had failed both of them.
Vanderbelt had sought revenge upon Spot for stealing something that he felt had rightfully belonged to him. The mere thought of the man made Spot seethe with hatred. Vanderbelt had enlisted someone in Spot's gang to turn against him and he had used that information against Spot. He had used it to destroy everything Spot valued and he had taken away Reina as well.
Reina.
Spot winced as the mere thought of her name evoked a strong aching within. It was a feeling that he was not use to but it was there all the same. It was also accompanied with various other un-welcome feelings; hurt, anger, worry, frustration. He had no way of knowing if she or even Kid were alive.
"Time to rise and shine sleeping beauty!"
Spot glanced over to the voice that had interrupted his thoughts. In strolled a rather tall boy who, in the last couple of years, had really turned into more of a man. His brownish-red hair was pushed back but a few strands always managed to hang in his face. His facial features were fine and chiseled but he somehow managed to carry a sort of rugged air about him. Other newsies called him, "Cowboy" and only a select few, mainly authority figures, called him, "Francis Sullivan". Spot knew him as Jack Kelly or Jacky Boy, depending on his mood or the situation. Right now, his mood indicated that he be called "Needs to Get the Hell Out".
Spot groaned in protest and squeezed his eyelids shut as Jack threw aside the makeshift drapes that had covered the window dirty glass of a nearby window. Sunlight flooded the room and Spot grimaced, it was not welcome. Jack stopped besides the tiny mattress and leaned over it, crossing both arms and resting them on the wood of the upper bunk. "Went without sleep again, didn't ya?" he asked and Spot recoiled as if he had exposed a dark secret. "I don't wanna sleep. To hell with sleeping," Spot said and pushed the top covers completely away and slowly sat up. He rubbed a single grimy hand over his face and licked his chapped lips.
"You know Spot, I don't wanna be the one to break this to you but you look like hell," Jack said while still eyeing Spot. "I know you don't wanna hear it but I've been coverin' your part of the rent for the last two months now. I know it sucks but you gotta pull together."
"Screw you Jack," Spot said and stood, heading towards the wash room. "Yeah, that's real nice Spot," Jack countered but Spot didn't detect anger in his voice. "Have you even looked in the mirror lately? Have you seen yourself?" Jack pressed. Spot only briefly glanced over his shoulder and continued into the wash room. When inside over the basin, he picked up a small pocket mirror and took a good hard look.
He didn't even recognize the face looking back at him.
For the moment, Jack was quiet and Spot dejectedly set the mirror down – he'd seen enough. "C'mon Spot," Jack started up again. "Everyone else is out workin' and you should be too. I think getting back to sellin' the papes will be good for ya," he pressed. Spot sighed and swallowed hard. He never liked to admit when he was wrong and rarely did but Jack had a point. He could either rot in bed or at least get out and try and pick the pieces up. "You know, the Spot Conlon I know doesn't give up," Jack added hopefully.
Spot stepped outside the washroom and gave Jack a very solemn look. "The Spot Conlon you know is dead," Spot said with a hard edge to his voice. Spot watched as Jack just gave him a stern and steady look and turned to walk from the room, clearly done with trying to convince Spot otherwise. "I'll be outside waitin'," he called back. Spot expected to feel a twinge of guilt for coming down so hard on Jack but nothing came to him. He glanced to the outside window only briefly and his last words he'd said now echoed in his mind but felt true to the core.
"Spot Conlon is dead."