Author's Note: As you Newsies fans can tell, I have taken liberties with the time frame of the orignal movie. In this story, I am sending our favorite "ambastards" Jack, Blink and Davey on their mission a day late.

Guess what? This is the longest chapter of Bye Bye, Birdie to date! Woot!

Also, you guys need to tell me which story you would like updated next on the poll on my profile... ;)

Note on Re-upload: Spelling errors I couldn't just leave there.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own Jay. Any similarities between original characters in this story that resemble other original characters or persons, living or dead, are purely unintentional and yada yada yada. I am also not trying to push Christianity on anybody in this chapter, but as you will see later Jay, while not being totally about her religion, is still a very Catholic girl.

Note on the Biblical references in this chapter: "The Virgin" refers to the Virgin Mary. Mary Magdalene was a woman that was a prostitute that later became a disciple of Christ (after forsaking prostituion, of course). I can't remember if it's Biblical scholars that said that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, or if it was the Christian Bible itself. If it's the scholars, I have no clue when they decided that, so for the purposes of this chapter you're just gonna pretend I'm right.

xxx

The next day

xxx

My lungs burned with the fire of determination. I ran as hard and as fast as I could, breathing raggedly. Get there before them, get there before them! My left hand lifted the length of my skirt to above my ankles while my right hand sliced through the air. Annoying tendrils of hair were coming out of my ponytail, and a breeze from my right was blowing them into my face.

I had almost made it to the harbor when I realized I should have come up with a story before I started running. No sane sixteen-year-old girl sprints towards the harbor and it's perverted dock workers with her skirts held above her ankles without good reason. Damn! Make up a story, make up a story...

I figured Pokes would be there about this time of day. We look enough alike. I could just grab onto his arm and yell "Momma's baby is comin'!" if it came to it. I have no idea why anyone would care or stop me, but it's happened before.

I skidded to a stop and realized I was too late. Damn! I approached the posse, slowly, quietly, and with confidence. Spot eyed me out of his peripheral vision. He knew I was there, and he knew I knew he knew I was there. He was going to be -- well, he already was, but he didn't show it -- mad that I didn't get word to him about Kelly's little visit sooner.

I snuck up behind them and ducked into the spot where the other birds and I gave Spot debriefings. I could still hear what was being said. I agreed with most of it, and tried to think of a way to convince Spot to join the strike to keep my mind off of the lecture I was going to get later. Jay, you little wimp. He's just going to chew you out. It's not like he hates you or is going to kick you out or anything extreme. He's just going to lecture you. It's what he does with all his birds! the reasonable side of me said.

But... I don't like getting yelled at...

Sensible me scoffed and turned to cruel me. Silly girl. You don't give a damn about lectures. You're just being a selfish little pansy who wants her guy to be nice to her. You forget, Jay, that now you two are leader and bird, not guy and girl. He's not going to go soft on you just because he's sweet on you. There's a time and place for that, and now isn't it. You're just mad because he doesn't treat you like his little sweeheart all the time. You know why? Because he can't. He has work to do and so do you. So hop to it.

I sighed. I hate sounding whiny, but we had been together for nine months. I know it's not incredibly long in the entire scheme of things, but it was longer than most adolescent relationships last. Nine whole months... I thought. Half of the time, he was my beau. The other half, my leader. It depended on what was going on, and the mood he was in.

Judging by the looks he was giving me, today he was the latter. As soon as Jack and his posse got up to leave, I slipped behind a part of the wall where the nets were extra thick and prepared myself for a talk with my leader. The Manhatten newsies had sauntered off the docks, and our most of our own Brooklyn newsies had dispersed, except two birds. He said he wanted to talk with them, which gave the dozen or so newsies left the hint that he wanted them to leave. No one, excluding Spot, the birds, and myself, knew they were really guards for the talk Spot and I were about to have.

He entered the small space. "You know, Jay, I think I would have rather heard about their visit before they came. I didn't have any time to prepare tea." I couldn't help it. I winced. It didn't go unobserved by Spot. "Is this just an off day, Jay?" he asked, his tone a little kinder, "Because yesterday you wouldn't have -- look at me, Jay," he said, his voice back to the angry tone it started with. I met his stony gaze. "It must be an off day. Yesterday you wouldn't have any problem looking me in the eye, much less wincing. What's the matter with you?" he asked, taking hold of my right shoulder and gently pulling me a little closer towards him.

I knew he was being kind -- at least as kind as he could be without feeling he was going soft -- but I couldn't help myself. I pulled his hand off my shoulder and took a step back to my original position. "What's the matter with me?" I asked, "What's the matter with you? You think that you can waltz right in here and start critisizing my abilities as a bird without knowing the facts? I sprinted from Kelly's distribution center all the way here as soon as I heard the news!" I said, gesticulating wildly.

"Maybe you should have found out sooner, Jay," he said coldly, settling against a crate in the exact same manner he had done with Kelly and his friends.

I threw my hands up in the air. "I don't see what the big deal is! Whether or not I told you they were coming, you would have let them come!"

Spot opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it again. After a momentary pause, he said "It's just good to know these things, Jay. You're my best bird-"

I cut him off at "best bird". "'Best bird'?" I asked. I kept the volume of my voice low, but I put every ounce of venom my voice posessed into my words. 'Best bird'? Yesterday, it would have been 'best girl', but I suppose that constricts your freedoms too much, leader."

Spot stood up. "Would you two mind leaving?" he asked the birds outside, who had been listening intently. They got devilish looks on their faces, and you could almost hear the perverted thoughts they were thinking. Spot gave them a dark look. "If I hear any new rumors after you two leave..." he started. They ran off.

He turned and approached me. "Listen," he said, his voice at the same volume as mine, "I try my best. You know how hard it is on me sending you out into the field? Into the alleys? If you were just my girl instead of doubling as my bird, I would be with you every damned step of the way. But if I even go so far to suggest helping you, you accuse me of being a sexist who's trying to take away your freedom!"

Now we were nose to nose. Whenever we took in an angry, shallow breath, our chests brushed against one another. Fists clenched, eyes shooting fiery arrows, we faced off, and I threw the first vocalic punch. "It's my job, Sp--"

"Yeah, well it's my job to be your leader, Jay."

I quieted down. My shoulders relaxed and my fists unclenched, slowly, and I realized that I hadn't even known I was that tense. I looked at the ground. I saw the dirt, the scuffed toes of our boots. "What happened to being my guy, Spot?" quietly, but not meekly, I asked, looking up at him.

He slowly wound down, too. He reached his hands up and brushed the stray wisps of hair out of my face. He rested his hands on my shoulder before speaking. "What happened to being my girl, Jay?"

I glared at him. "Why do you always asnwer me with a question?" I demanded, my voice starting to sound angry again.

He continued to stare at me. "Why don't you answer any of them?" he asked, his tone as even as the look he was giving me. I tried staring back at him, but looked away after a moment. "Hey," he started, his voice much more gentle. He took my chin in is left hand and turned my face so that I was looking at him. "What's wrong?"

Stone. Cold marble, I thought as I put on the blank mask that I wore when being interrogated. "Nothing," I replied, meeting his gaze.

I won't say that it was the lighting that made him look unhappy for the moment in took for him to drop the hand on my chin back to my left shoulder. I know for a fact that he was sad when I said that. He quickly covered it up, though, by glaring at me. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Jay," he hissed, his grip on my shoulders tightening. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why? Do you not trust me?"

"Jay!" he said, letting go of my shoulders.

I crossed my arms and cocked my left hip. "Spot!" I replied, reverting back to my defense mechanism of sarcasm.

He shook his head. "Of course I trust you," he said, looking into my eyes. He let out a sigh. and looked away from me, out into the harbor. "Jay," he began softly, sticking his hands in his pockets, "I think we need to talk-"

"I've already told you all I know about the strike," I said flatly.

He shook his head again. "Not about the strike, Jay... about..." he let out another sigh. "About us."

I felt an anvil hit me in the chest. "Are you-" I started, interuppted by a harsh sob. My eyes wide as saucers, I began again. "Are you saying we're going to- going to-" I shook my head fervently and turned on my heel. I understood it didn't matter whether I stayed to hear the news or not: Spot was breaking it off with me. I was a coward, and I knew it.

He grabbed my left arm with both hands. "No! No... I'm not saying that... I'm just..." he looked as scared as I felt. I slowly relaxed my arm. "I'm just saying that we have a lot to talk about, so we can make this -- us -- work out, alright" he asked gently. "I don't want there to not be an us, Jay. Please say that you think the same thing."

I looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

His shoulders relaxed, and he gripped my upper arms gently. "Listen, Jay," he started, "I'm sor-" he stopped, surprised at the word he had almost spoke. I felt another sob threaten to come forth. I swallowed it before I scoffed at him.

"Damn your pride, Spot," I said, shaking my head, and dodging out of his grip. "Damn your pride." I turned and ran back the way I came, tears threatening to come all the way.

Stupid sun. Why can't it rain? I want it to rain. I don't want people to see me crying, I thought as I dodged people on the sidewalk on my quest for a space to cry.

I found myself in an alley and huddled in doorway before hunkering down to start crying. My tears had been reduced to ragged sobs and occasional sniffles when I saw the ragged hem of a maroon skirt in front of me. I slowly looked up. The skirt turned out to be attached to a bodice with a collarline much too low for propriety. I continued looking up and was greeted by a blue-eyed woman in her twenties wearing lip color and cheek and eye powders. Her eyelashes were a deep black, not matching the massive amounts of wavy blonde hair that had been piled up on top of her head. This could be because she was wearing a wig, but I highly doubted it since her eyebrows matched her hair. A more likely explanation was that she had brushed ink onto her lashes.

"What seems to be the trouble, darlin'?" the harlot asked me in a Southern accent.

I glared up at her. "Cut out the accent," I retorted. "We both know you're no Southern belle."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Smart kid," she said, reverting back to a Brooklyn accent as heavy as Spots'. She pulled a cigarette and a book of matches out of the front of her dress. She lit up, tossed the match on the ground and shoved the matches back down her dress. She took a drag before starting again. "So, I asked you a question, kid," she said, smoke blowing from her mouth as she said it. "Now how 'bout you answer it?"

I saw no reason not to tell her. "Boys," I said flatly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Boys?" she repeated, "Are you sure it's the plural? Because when most girls say that, they are really referring to the singular."

"Singular," I said. "One, singular boy, that I really really care for."

"Have you ever been with him?" she asked. I looked up at her, horrified. She snorted. "Little prude. No, not like that, just as sweethearts."

I nodded. She looked at me like she expected more, so I said "Nine months."

She let out a long whistle. "Wowie. How old are you? Sixteen? That's fairly long. So, why aren't you together anymore?"

"Well..." I started as she sucked in more toxic fumes from her cigarette, "I think we still are. Last time I spoke with him he--"

"Litsten, kid," she said, settling down to my right. "Just start from the begining."

So I did, not even caring that I was telling my problems to a prostitute. I told the entire story, top to bottom. I was smart enough to tell her that I was just a newsie, not a bird, and I didn't tell her who my leader was.

When I was done, she added her thoughts on the matter. "I think he cares about you. I think you care about him. And," she said, snuffing out her cigarette, "I think you both agree with me." I just shrugged. She continued. "Pretty stupid of you to just run off like that. I think Matthew just paused mid-apology because he doesn't give them out often, and it was just unsettling for him to find a girl he would apologize to without forcing himself to."

I began shaking my head yes before I turned my head sharply to my right. "Wait- I didn't even tell you his newsie name, much less his real..."I trailed off. Oh. I was looking into her eyes, for the first time realizing I had looked into the same pair of icy blues before, only in a different person.

She grinned at me. "I thought you were a bird, Jay. Aren't birds supposed to catch on to things like this quickly?"

"I- I- well-" I began stammering.

"Stop before you hurt yourself, kid. Better go hunt down Matthew and have that talk with him."

I nodded, standing up as she did. "Thanks for the advice."

"No problem. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go to work. Tell Matthew that I said hello."

"I will," I said, turning to leave.

"He's a good kid, Jay," she said. I turned back around. "He's crazy about you, too. Couldn't shut up about you yesterday when I went to visit him. He'll be good to you."

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mary," I said, the woman's name finally coming to mind.

She grinned at the mention of her name. "Ironic, isn't it? I was named after the Virgin and it turns out I'm more like Mary Magdalene."

I smiled at her, not showing any of my teeth. "Even Mary Magdalene was redeemed," I said.

She snorted. "Matthew told me you went to Mass every Sunday. Crazy kid. But now I really gotta go before Ben comes out here and tries to recruit you after smacking me. Seeya, Jay."

"Seeya."

I turned and walked toward the docks -- I needed to find Spot.

xxx

I'm sorry if having Jay and Spot fight at the beginning of the chapter was rather Mary Sue, but I decided that if they were lovey-dovey all the time it would be even worse. So... what exactly is Mary's relationship to Spot? You'll have to keep reading to find out... mwahaha!

As always, read and review!

Regards,

Scratch O'Brien