Author's Notes: Oh no! This chapter is a tad short :( But I hope you enjoy it anyway :D Thanks again for reviews, yay!!

Disclaimer: I own Sinker, Trip, Speed, and Box

Box was bustling distractedly around the bed in which Trip was now propped. The newcomer had kicked everyone from the room but Speed, who she had demanded sit somewhere out of the way. Now Spot was watching from the door, attempting to figure out in his head just how he had managed to allow one of his newsies to fall ill. His mind was backtracking as precisely as possible, sifting through the days, trying to pin-point when Trip had begun to show any symptoms, which Spot realized he had been too ignorant to pay attention to.

Spot Conlon wasn't one to give up easily, but after quite a few minutes of retracing the events of the past weeks, he was beginning to feel awfully discouraged, until his thoughts landed on that dreary day that he had sent Trip running to Manhattan after the Brooklyn party took place. "God dammit," he swore to himself, pounding a fist to his temple in anger. Why had he been so stupid? So foolish. Trip had already been exhausted that day as it was; and he made it worse. Fatally worse.

The door creaking wider caught his attention and Spot saw a glimpse of Speed kneeling, hunched over the bed, before the door was closed. Box's eyes were burning holes in Spot's tormented figure. "She's got influenza," Box informed him. "It's not clear whether she'll survive, but I'm staying here until I'm sure she's on the road to recovery." Spot sighed, that statement was certainly reassuring, considering he had no idea how to handle influenza. "Because," Box added, "Unlike someone, I actually care about my friend's well being." She made as if to walk away, but Spot caught her by the wrist, anger swelling inside him, shoving her harshly against the wall, a murderous glint in his eye. Box looked him up and down, then hissed, "In case your memory is faulty, I'd be more than happy to remind you exactly why I'm referred to as 'Box'."

Spot released her, but refused to move out of the young woman's way. "What makes you think I don't care?" he growled. "Can ya not see how terrible I feel 'bout this?"

Box rolled her eyes and offered up a dry laugh. "You only care about yourself Spot. Not only do I know from personal experience, but you just asked if I could see how terrible you feel," she pointed out. "You want me to tell you how terrible Trip is feeling right about now?"

Spot gulped. It was as if Box had landed a well aimed hit to his unsuspecting gut. She was right. He knew it. But his pride reared it's ugly head and he turned away before acknowledging the truth in Box's statement, heading down the Lodging House stairs to the waiting newsies.

Box shook her head in disappointment and the last thing Spot heard her murmur was, "Hasn't changed a bit."

Blink brushed a loose strand of Sinker's hair away from her face. She smiled shyly and glanced away. They had talked through their misunderstandings and their haphazardous love life. If it could be considered that. Both of them had hurt the other, and neither were sure if they could heal; they simply knew it would be easier to heal with the other at their side. They had been exchanging goofy faces and laughing lightly for quite some time when they were interrupted by a voice.

"Are ya just gonna stare at each othah?"

Blink and Sinker looked up, startled, at the doorway. Boots and Snipeshooter were standing there with eager, yet let down, expressions on their faces, as if waiting for some sort of exciting event to take place. Blink and Sinker exchanged a confused glance before returning their eyes to the younger expectant newsies.

"Ain't ya even gonna kiss or anythin'?" Snipeshooter inquired nosily.

Sinker looked shocked, but Blink began to chuckle casually at the boy's question. "Get outtah heah," he jokingly ordered with a good-natured grin.

Boots and Snipeshooter sighed dejectedly, exiting the premises with heads hung. Sinker allowed a laugh to escape her lips at their retreating forms. "Is it just me, or do they seem too young ta want ta have seen us doin' that?"

Blink grinned. "Since when did ya become such a mom? They'se been like that evah since Race took 'em to a vaudeville show that turned out ta be much more," he laughed. "Jack wasn't too happy either."

"I can see why," Sinker smiled, raising her eyebrows.

Blink nodded. "Race practically dragged 'em out right off the bat. Maybe it's a phase. But, they do have a point," he mused.

Sinker peered over at Blink, puzzled. "Point? What point?"

And just like that, Blink leaned over and captured Sinker's lips with his own. This time she let him.

Snipeshooter smirked at Boots from where they were spying at the doorway. "Told ya it'd happen."

Spot slumped in the chair he had decided to sit in. Racetrack, Jack, and Mush were playing a lazy round of poker, but Spot had waved away their invitation to join in. It was a wonder he hadn't taken to pacing. Yet. He was sure he'd jump out of his seat at any second and begin to walk a hole in the floor.

"Still can't believe she came," Jack mumbled from across the table to the worried leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Race laughed, his mind thinking dirty, as per usual.

Spot merely nodded in return, too occupied with old memories to respond verbally. Mush gave Jack an inquisitive glance. "And why is that Jack?" he asked.

Jack grinned, staring at the boy that was now chewing his fingernails. "Can I tell 'em?"

Spot gave a curt nod. "Sure, Jacky-boy, tell 'em whatevah ya want."

"Okay then," Jack began, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. "So, bout a year or so ago, Spot heah actually got serious with a goil, as in long-term." Racetrack snorted in disbelief, but Jack held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "Now hold on there, Race, lemme continue. So, Spot is head ovah heels for this dame, and she's practically in love with Spot. But one day, a new goil come along—"

"Box?" Mush wanted to clarify.

"No not Box. Box is the foist goil, Mush. Pay attention," Jack scolded, causing Mush to wearily gaze at his shoelaces. "So anyway, this new goil comes along and begins ta get as close ta Spot as possible, if ya's know what I mean," he wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis and Racetrack and Mush leaned in closer. "And Spot being Spot," Jack shrugged and the other boys nodded, knowing very well Spot had trouble turning down any girl, no matter the situation. "Needless ta say, Box found out and got out. Outtah Brooklyn, and outtah Spot's life."

"So why'd he call 'er back?" Race asked.

"She's a nurse in Midtown, Race," Spot finally spoke up. "Had enough a life as a newsie aftah I let 'er down. Just like I let Trip down." Spot hung his head. "Who knows if she'll stay a newsie or not. Who knows if she'll get a chance ta choose."

The trio of Manhattaners were silent as the grave at Spot's statement. Never had Spot acknowledged any of his faults. Everyone knew he could see his wrong doings, but he simply refused to claim them as his own mistakes. Until now. Until the possible death of a newsie who had devoted her life so wholly to the King of Brooklyn. Mush brought his eyes up to the distraught boy. "She'll be okay," he assured Spot, whose head suddenly snapped up.

He looked with clear eyes to the newsies in front of him. "Sinker?" he asked, needing to know what had become of the girl.

A shadow passed over Jack and Race's faces. "She'll live," Jack said bitterly.

"Unfortunately," Race spat, flinching as Mush punched him in the arm forcefully.

Rage burned in Spot's eyes, and Racetrack was nearly certain he could feel the heat rolling over his body, making him gulp. "Sinker did what she had to ta survive," Spot defended. "I told 'er I'd protect 'er, and if any a ya lay a hand on 'er—"

"'Ey!" Race interrupted the rambling young man, holding up his hands in a form of surrender. "Blink an' Mush are ahead a ya, my friend. Nothin's gonna happen ta Sinker on their watch." Mush beamed proudly.

"Nor mine," Spot added darkly. It was high time he held up his part of the bargain, he decided. And for the first time since Trip had taken ill, Spot felt good, for just one moment, as he thought of Sinker, safe in Blink's arms, right where she belonged.

Author's Note: Yay for Blink and Sinker!!! I love Blink :) and Mush :) and Spot :) and Race :)

So leave a review my friends and I'll be working on my stories!!!

Thanks! :D