Buried Under Stone Chapter 4: Out of Sight, Out of Mind, a newsies fanfic

Summary: For some people, words can kill. For some people, love can kill. And for others, secrets can kill. For Spot Conlon, all three apply.

Buried Under Stone

Chapter 4 – Out of Sight, Out of Mind

When the girl finally woke up the next morning, she was greeted by Gizmo, who was bent over a watch with a screwdriver. His blonde hair hung in tendrils over his forehead, blue eyes sparkling with the challenge of fixing Racetrack's watch, as the little Italian had dropped it in a puddle the night before.

He couldn't have scared her, and didn't, so when she finally spoke, it was him who screamed, surprised by the noise. "Oh my God," he had gasped, hand clutched to his heart. Then he laughed and stood, adjusting the blankets around her chin. "I'll go get Angel."

When Gizmo returned with Angel, they weren't alone. The entire Ring of Fire, with the exception of Spot and Cujo was there, all eager to find out who their mysterious guest was.

Angel sat on the edge of her bed and smiled softly down at her. "My name's Angel. That's Gizmo, Deek, and River." He motioned to each as he said their names. "Welcome to Brooklyn."

Her name was Riley Curtis, but she preferred if they called her Rocky. When she finally had a real shower, by herself, they finally realized that she actually did look like the girl she was. Riley's hair hung in soft brown waves down to the back of her shoulders, and had green eyes. Angel was first to realize her nose was sprinkled with freckles, and when he did, he decided that would be his nickname for her.

Within two days, she was up and about, with only slight sneezes, and with her recovery came trips outside the walls of the Brooklyn LH. She wasn't patient, to say the least, and Deek caught her on several occasions trying to sneak out of the building for a walk of some sort, and once she even ran into Spot.

"Stay out of my sight," Brooklyn had snapped, his arm wrapped around the waist of his newest whore. Spot knew, in yet another of his mysterious ways, that that would break the heart of many. And soon.

River was the first to take her out into New York, the town she now resided in. He took her to Sheepshead races in the early afternoon of one of the training days, and when the track was clear, they raced, Rocky tripping and stumbling as she failed miserably at keeping up with the bird. Tibby's was their next stop, where River introduced Rocky to all the Manhattan girls and boys. They got along fine would be an understatement, as the group laughed and talked until the owner ushered the group from the cafe long after dark.

The next day, Rocky was pulled by Gizmo to a small shop on the outskirts of Brooklyn. There, they sat for hours, molding stuff from clay and metal; pots, rings, and Gizmo entwined several metal strips to make a silvery looking bracelet for her. As evening faded away, the Brooklyn docks were their next stop, until of course they spotted Brooklyn himself perched on a pile of crates. As they turned away, they were unaware that his icy eyes burned holes into their backs.

Cujo decided against taking her out to show her the ropes, after all, "She'd learn better on her own," as he said. Why waist time with a stupid girl, especially if she was going to leave soon enough anyways. Something about that girl made him uneasy, and he couldn't wait until she left.

When Deek's turn came around to take Rocky on a 'field trip', he was fully at a loss. So they sat on the bridge, and talked, until she decided she wanted to meet his girlfriend. Tessa was -- to say the least -- thrilled. She kept turning to Deek and saying, "Oh, Tom, I'm glad you're friends!" The trio hopped a carriage to a nearby bookshop, and spent the entire day learning about streets and alleys in their city.

Sunday was Angel's turn, and he was looking forward to actually knowing the girl all the others had become acquainted with. The end of the day was his curse, as Micah knew he had to tell her that she would be leaving, like it or not. "Just across the bridge." He'd say, and had practiced over and over for the cursed speech. It never came.

That morning, as Rocky scrambled down the stairs into the lobby to meet him, there came a shout from the foyer. Spot was standing there with a pleased look on his face. "Goodbye doll. I've seen you three times, so it's time to go."

Rocky's face spoke better than any words, the shock and confusion that flashed in her eyes was enough to convince even Spot that she had no idea what was going on.

Brooklyn roughly took her wrist, and led her to the front door. "I never wanted you here, and Angel was lucky that I let you stay. I told him to keep you out of my sight, but I saw you, three times. Now you go to Manhattan, whether you like it or not." Spot smiled weakly, eyes laughing. "I'm really surprised Angel didn't tell you that."

Whereas most girls Spot knew would have probably begun to cry, Rocky was not most girls. Her fists became clenched hard at her sides, and without warning, Brooklyn's king was lying on the ground, his hand over his jaw, as he shouted, "Out!"

Rocky turned, hands firmly on her hips, and started out the front door. Before she had left the porch, she was running, legs pounding on the cobblestone pavement, on the way to Manhattan.

Spot waited just long enough that she'd be out of site before calling for his younger sibling. "Angel!" he shouted, and within seconds, the teen was before him.

"Damnit Spot," he gasped, helping Brooklyn back to his feet. "What da hell happened?"

"I caught your little friend for the third time this week, and told her her chances were up. Your Rocky dame was sure upset when I told her that you knew the whole time. Her face got all read, and she just ran off. Well, not before she hit me!"

Angel ran a hand through his curly brown hair, green eyes darting around nervously. "Spot, she don't know about street predators! She ain't never been alone."

"She deserves whatever comes to her." Brooklyn drawled, and strutted through the door and down the docks.

Rocky turned yet another corner, her arms clasped around herself. Somewhere near Tibby's she had taken a wrong turn, and had wound up here, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Turning another corner, she stumbled over a pebble on the ground, and sighed, "City of opportunity my ass."

Beating down from overhead, the midday sun pounded on her back, sending little trickles of sweat along the back of her neck. She jumped, as a voice came from directly behind her, and spun around.

"Excuse me, Miss," the voice had called, and it belonged to a young man, who looked just barely eighteen. Frizzy red hair stuck out at every imaginable odd angle on the man's head, and his eyes were dark. Despite his unruly appearance, his smile was warm, and as he continued talking, she almost would have done anything. "You seem lost. Could I help you in any way?"

Rocky nearly answered, "Yes," but caught herself. What came out instead was, "No thank you, I don't even know you."

He laughed radiantly, and extended his hand to her. "My name is Patrick, but my friends call me Charm. Now, if you'll tell me your name, I think then we know eachother."

She laughed and took his hand, shaking it quickly, before abruptly dropping her hand to her side. "My name's Riley," she smiled. "I was supposed to go to Manhattan."

He extended his arm to her, smiling still, and when Rocky took it, Charm started down the street. They weaved in and out through a labrynth of streets and alleys, and just before turning onto a street near Tibby's, Charm turned into an alley.

Halfway down, he pinned her against a wall, holding a knife to the tender flesh beneath her chin. "Alright doll," he spat, "Where's Thomas?"

"Who?" she gasped.

"Thomas Michaels, you idiot. The guy I saw you walking around with a few days ago." At the look of bemusement on her face, he rolled his eyes and pressed harder. "Deek?"

Rocky's eyes widened in familiarity, and she gasped, wriggling.

Then out of nowhere, a fist came down on the back of Charm's head, and he lay sprawled on the ground, quivering.

Angel's curly hair hung down around his ears, sweat glistening on his brow as he smiled at her and approached the writhing mass of human flesh on the ground. "So Charm," he began. "What do you think you're doin, picking on one of Jack's newsies."

Stuttering, Charm mumbled quietly, but with a swift kick to the side on Angel's part, he spoke up, wincing. "G-gettin back a g-gamblin debt from one of C-conlon's newsies."

Angel shook his head, clucking his tongue disapprovingly. "You that ain't very smart Charm, especially when you're picking on somebody who doesn't even really know the person you're looking for." Angel sighed, and crouched next to Charm. "Besides, you know that Spot is really short tempered. You touch anybody from Brooklyn or Manhattan every again, and I'll see to it that you don't live to say sorry. Alright?"

Charm looked up, dark eyes flashing in the darkness, and nodded silently.

"That's good." Angel smiled, and patted Charm's head, laughing when he flinched. Then he stood, grabbed Rocky's wrist, and pulled her out of the alley.

"Thank you," she whispered, and pulled her hand from his.

Angel laughed, suddenly his normal sunny self. "Don't worry about it Freckles." he tousled her hair, and then paused. "Umm, Rocky? You know how today was my day to show you around town, well Spot sorta kicked you out, and I was wondering, if I could maybe --" he broke off, biting his lip. "Take you out for real sometime."

Rocky smiled and laughed, nodding brightly and taking his hand. Then she paused and whispered, "But can we – well, not rush it?"

He laughed and nodded, smiling. "Of course."

A/N – Much thanks to all the reviewers. Every few chapters I'll name them all, or list them if I get around to it, but please do know that I appreciate any constructive criticism, or support that I can get. Much love.