Only Time Will Tell

A Newsies Fanfiction by xFlipperx

Chapter Twenty-One: Whoa

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I own my characters and the plot.

Jack's eyes flashed from Rookie to Spot. Suspicion was visible, and Rookie was cautious. Suddenly, Cat was at Jack's side. Rookie almost swore under her breath. She had forgotten about Cat. Perhaps causing this much attention was a bad idea. By the murderous fire burning in Cat's sharp green eyes, it was obviously a very bad idea.

"Come," Jack said, his tone eerily steady. "We's goin' back ta da Lodgin' House."

Rookie shrugged off David's grip and walked over to Spot. She took Bear's leash from him, jerking it a little. They both mumbled thanks under their breath, almost in the same tone. Their words were both edged and tight. Neither was angry with the other, rather the ones who stood around him, those who had interrupted their dinner.

As Jack forcibly turned Talker and pushed her out the door, Rookie and Bear were ushered by David. Cat took the tail end, watching Spot carefully.

Talker's accusation played in Rookie's mind. It couldn't be true. From what Rookie knew, Spot had been in Manhattan since the early afternoon. If the murder of Talker's sister had occurred recently, it couldn't have been Spot.

But it could've been another under orders from Spot, she thought to herself as she walked straight-faced behind Jack and Talker.

But he did tell Poker to go back to Brooklyn, her usually irrational self rationalized. He told Poker directly that he didn't want any trouble today. If it truly was a Brooklynite's doing, they weren't under orders from Spot.

But what if he was just trying to protect me? What if by "Going back to Brooklyn," Spot meant going somewhere else, just not Manhattan?

Why would Spot want to cause any trouble on the day that he comes to Manhattan to discuss things with Cowboy?

True…

Hmm…

'Hmm', was right. This was a very trying situation. And as Rookie stared up at the night sky, she realized that she had bigger problems to worry about. She had just attacked the Queen of Queens, a strong ally of Manhattan. She had attacked an ally, to defend an enemy. Whatever trust she had gained from the Newsies over the past month had a very real possibility of being shattered. Hopefully, they would believe her when she told them it was an act to avoid a larger conflict.

Hopefully.

A sigh escaped her lips as she saw the glowing stars, but returned her eyes to the street ahead of her. They were going to be arriving at the lodging house any moment, and she had to be mentally prepared for what might happen, if worst came to worst.

When they arrived at the Lodging House, they were met by Racetrack and Itey. The two of them looked over the six of them suspiciously. "'ey dere Cowboy, wha' happened heah?" he asked. Rookie saw his eyes lock on Spot, and then look over from the blank-faced Rookie to livid Cat to tear-streaked Talker. "Wha'did da bum-"

"Go inside, you two," Jack ordered. "Up ta da bunkroom."

The five (seven, counting Race and Itey) walked up to the bunkroom. When they reached the floor, Rookie broke apart from the group and began walking Bear over to their bunk. "Wheah ya goin?" Jack snapped. Rookie didn't turn around as she replied:

"Having Bear stay on the bed, I don't want her getting over-excited."

When Bear was on the bed and the command to stay was given, Rookie returned to the group. She sidled up next to David, putting him strategically in between herself and Spot. Talker was being held back by Jack. The Queens leader kept looking back and fourth from Spot to Rookie, looking absolutely murderous. Rookie's jade eyes then moved to Cat, who was staring straight at Rookie.

If looks could kill…

"Now, someone bettah 'splain what da hell is goin' on," Racetrack said, cutting the tense air with a knife.

"Dat's exactly what I'd like ta know," Spot replied, his voice lazy and nonchalant.

"Bastard!" Talker hissed. "You know exactly what this is about! You killed Ringer!" Rookie supposed Ringer was Talker's sister.

"I didn't kill nobody," Spot replied, still as calm as ever. Rookie marveled this. He was being accused of murder and yet was the picture of calm. The wonder of Spot Conlon, Rookie mused to herself as Talker's shrill voice cut the air again.

"Liar!" she hissed. "You dirty, filthy, son-of-a-bitch! You killed her!"

"No, I didn't." This time, Spot's voice was defensive.

"When was she killed?" Rookie spoke up, cutting Talker off from yelling at Spot again. Talker looked at her, eyes narrowing and fists clenched.

"Not two hours ago," she replied.

"Then it's impossible for Spot to have directly killed your sister, or even commanded someone to do it," Rookie replied. She was keeping her tone calm, but it was hard when four others were staring you down. David, Jack, Talker, and Cat were watching her carefully, analyzing every word, every movement. Spot was staring at Talker, his eyes narrowed.

"He was with me for the passed hour," Rookie explained. "And he's been in Manhattan since early afternoon. Cowboy can confirm that; I heard them arguing just before I left for dinner, and I saw him when he first came."

"Then he told someone else to do it!" Talker objected.

"Maybe he did, but not while he was here," Rookie replied. "He saved my butt from one of his newsies that was planning on beating the daylights out of me. Told him to go back to Brooklyn."

"But this is you we're talking about," the Queens leader counteracted. "We all know about how he feels about you."

"This isn't me we're talking about," Rookie snapped. "He told his newsie that he didn't want any trouble today. He told his newsie to go back to Brooklyn and take any other Brooklynite he met along the way back with him." There was a silence.

"And den what happened?" Jack asked.

"After Poker left, Spot and I walked to the Lodging House," Rookie replied, leaving out that the King of Brooklyn had carried her parcels. "And then I suppose you two had your meeting."

"And den?"

"Well, I went out and sold," Rookie replied with a shrug. "I came back here, got my dinner money and was just about to head to Tibby's when I hear you two fighting. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I continue on my way. But not two minutes later, Spot brushes passed me in an apparent rage. Feeling sorry for-"

"For Spot coz he got yelled at?" Cat snapped. "So ya invite him ta dinner? Fratanizin' wit da enemy. Traitor."

"I'm not a traitor," Rookie snapped, her voice quiet and tight. It gained volume and strength as she continued: "Let me finish my sentence before you go off making assumptions!" She paused, and continued. "As I was saying…I felt sorry for anyone who got in Spot's way while he was in this mood. This includes Manhattan newsies. I didn't want him to get pissed off enough to hurt a 'Hattaner or some poor sap in the street. So I invited him to dinner so I could keep a watch on him and make sure he calmed down before he went back on his way to Brooklyn. I invited him to dinner to avoid a greater conflict."

"And den ya attacked Talker," Cat concluded.

"No!" Rookie hissed, glaring at Cat. "But if you don't shut your fat mouth and let me finish-"

"Finish." Jack's voice cut off Rookie's sentence and pulled her back into her place. She was still glaring at Cat when she continued.

"I didn't attack Talker. I blocked her from attacking Spot."

"He killed my sister!" Talker's words, followed by a dry sob, split through the bunkroom, causing everyone within to silence.

"You're forgetting one very important thing, Talker," Rookie said quietly, almost in a whisper. "You killed his cousin."

"I didn't kill anyone!" Talker defended. "I was-"

"Somewhere else, I know," Rookie cut off. "But you had someone kill Spike. It's a known fact. If you followed the code of an ancient ruler, Hammurabi, then it's 'an eye for an eye, a death for a death', and your sister's death is justified." A silence enveloped the bunkroom.

"Bitch," was the one word that escaped Talker's lips. Rookie (guessing she was the only one who knew about King Hammurabi) narrowed her eyes.

"Traitor," Cat hissed.

"Call me a traitor, call me a fool, but I'm telling the truth," Rookie replied. She looked to Jack. "I assumed that was what Cowboy wanted." Cowboy nodded.

"She ain't no traitor," he said quietly. "She had a good purpose. She didn't want nobody ta get hoit. Sos she made shoah dat Spot was off da streets an' not a danger to a 'Hatten newsie. Though her tactics were different den what I woulda done, dey served their purpose."

"But Jack!" Talker and Cat protested in unison.

"But nothin," Jack replied. He turned his attention to Cat. "Dat's anuff a yoah comments. Don'tcha have a job yoah supposed ta be doin?" Cat narrowed her green eyes and practically stomped out of the bunkroom. Jack looked around, searching through the newsies.

"Boots," he said, and Boots walked forward. "Go ta da Bronx wit Itey. Get Fire." He then turned his head to Talker and Spot. "You two come wit me."

&xxx&

Fire, Rookie learned, was possibly one of the most fearsome-looking newsie she had ever seen (and that was saying a lot, since she grew up in Brooklyn). When he walked into the bunkroom, it was like everyone's breath had been stolen. The door opened, and even Rookie was left short of oxygen.

He wasn't very tall, only about five feet, ten inches in height. But he was extremely muscular. His beige shirt was tight against his body, his suspenders looking like they could barely fit around his shoulders. No girl in the Lodging House could resist stealing a glance. His dirty blonde hair was short, spiking up a bit. His face was completely chiseled and carved, every bone defined. His blue eyes were crystal-clear, but sharp. They darted around the bunkroom, taking in every movement, every face, every breath.

And the reason for his name. On the right side of his face, through his eye, was a scar. It started on his upper cheek, ran up in a slowly swerving motion to above his eyebrow, reached a tip and then ran back down, adjacent to the first line. Put together, the scar looked like a flame. His fists were clenched, and his lips pursed.

Jack, David, Spot, and Talker were soon facing him. Jack showed him out of the bunkroom and a slight racket was heard as the five made their way up to the roof. The Manhattan newsies traded looks with each other, none of them making a sound.

"Holy shit, someone die in heah?" Pirate almost exclaimed said as he walked in, Suave by his side. Rookie looked up earnestly as Suave walked in. She wanted to be the first one to clue him on what was happening, especially the parts that included her own involvement.

"Fiyah's heah," Shadow told Pirate, Rookie heard her on the bed above her. "The Leaders are meeting."

"Oh shit."

&xxx&

The meeting lasted over an hour, and the bunkroom was near-silent throughout the whole thing. Rookie whispered what had happened to Suave. He wasn't at all happy with her decision to invite Spot to dinner, but she persuaded him to believe it was for the best. She kissed him gently right under his jaw, and his hand flew to her upper arm.

"Not now," he said, and Rookie raised an eyebrow. She wasn't trying to start anything, but she didn't object to his words.

While Rookie was sitting in bed, leaning against Suave, she closed her eyes and held his hands gently. But her mind wandered to Spot. It wandered to their meeting in the afternoon, and their early evening together. Her mind was racing, thoughts moving through so fast, her temples started to throb. She shook her head lightly, opened her eyes, and cleared her thoughts.

She played with Suave's hands as they lay on her stomach. He was being very careful not to touch Rookie's ribcage. As he had learned earlier today, too much pressure or a wrong move in the wrong place would still put Rookie in a lot of pain.

"Suave?" Rookie murmured, looking back at him. His eyes were already locked on her as she turned very slightly to him. He had been watching her carefully before she had uttered his name. But he locked his eyes with hers as soon as they looked up to his. "Can we go outside please?" Suave nodded, and Rookie moved Bear so the two could leave the bed. The shepherd mix wound up following them anyway.

The three went downstairs and outside to talk. As they did, they could distinctly hear the leaders fighting above, but both ignored the voices and focused on each other. Rookie stood a little away from Suave, her back to him. Her eyes were turned up to the sky, and she shook her head again, ridding it of all thoughts of her dinner with Spot.

"What?" Suave asked behind her. She sighed out loud.

"Do you still love me?" she asked him. "Even after tonight?" Rookie felt Suave take her hand and soon she was being turned to face him. His hand reached up to her face, gently caressing her cheek.

"Of course," he replied, and Rookie smiled. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm going to have someone on my side," she replied. "I'm pretty certain everyone in the bunkroom isn't too happy with me right about now."

"Aw, they're probably just worried, ya know?" Suave replied. "An' I am too. Spot dragged ya' around like a rag doll last time, and we're in a war with Brooklyn. It must not look too good to them, and it didn't feel to good when you told me." Rookie bit her lip, looking down in guilt.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't think, I just acted."

"Why?"

"Because I have only ever seen Spot as angry as he was earlier tonight once before," she said in a small voice, her hand going gingerly to her side. "And he killed someone." Her eyes must have glassed over while the memory flashed back in front of them, because Suave's hands flew to Rookie's upper arms, and when she came back into focus of the present time, he was searching her eyes, trying to see what she was seeing.

"When?" he asked her. There was a tightness in his tone, something protective.

"Remember when I was attacked?" Rookie replied. "The night Manhattan attacked Brooklyn?" Suave nodded slowly. "Did I ever tell you the whole story of the next morning?"

"I thought you did," he replied, his voice rigid.

"I guess I didn't," she said, guilt in her tone. "I'm sorry. What did I tell you?"

"That you got attacked Echo, and Spot walked you to the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge and left you on your own." Rookie coughed to try and cover up a laugh, but Suave wasn't fooled."

"Why are ya laugin' at me?" he pressed.

"I will explain after I tell the first part of what happened," Rookie replied, her voice gaining a new, full sense of seriousness.

"When I woke up, I had two seemingly homeless men standing over me." Rookie wound up staring into space, still telling the story, but also re-living it through her mind. "They were deciding…deciding what they were going to do with me." Suave's hands (which were still on Rookie's upper arms), tightened their grip, but Rookie hardly noticed, she just continued on with her story. "And then Spot came out of no where. He told me to close my eyes and I did, at first. He killed one of the men, and I dared open my eyes. The look on his face, the fierceness in his eyes…it was the scariest expression I have ever seen. He was wearing that exact look tonight. I couldn't let him-"

"What happened afterwards?" Suave cut Rookie off.

"He only knocked out the second man before helping me up and walking through Brooklyn. Over the Brooklyn Bridge, he got me very angry. I wound up yelling at him and hobbling away. He still followed me to the end of the Bridge, but by that time I just wanted to get away from him and back to you." Suave nodded.

"I guess I owe him thanks," he said, his voice still tight but his eyes soft as he looked down into Rookie's. Rookie shook her head fervently and put her own hands on Suave's upper arms.

"You don't owe him anything," she told him. He smirked and shook his head, then took one of his hands and caressed Rookie's cheek gently.

"Rookie, ya don't understand," Suave replied, kissing her gently. "I owe him my life. If hadn'ta save you, if those guys had…" He trailed off, putting his forehead to hers. "If I lost you again, I woulda killed my self. You are my love, you are my life. Damn it, Rookie, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. If you woulda died, I woulda died! I can't lose ya again, understand." Rookie nodded her head, a few tears escaping her eyes. And suddenly, his lips were on hers.

"I love you," they both whispered at the exact same moment as they pulled apart.

&xx&

And that wonderful, beautiful kiss, those three passionate words, was why she was filled with guilt not twenty minutes later. Suave had confessed his complete and utter love for her, and she felt as if she was betraying him. Because right now, the letter in her pocket was going against him, going against the Manhattan newsies. If the letter was ever read by someone other than the receiver, Hell would surely come to New York.

Spot- the four letters of the note said. Tonight I realized something. I miss you. No, not in the way you would originally think. As a friend. Tonight, I jumped in front of you because I didn't want you to get hurt. I wanted to finish our conversation. I believe you when you say you didn't kill Ringer, and I hope you don't betray my trust. Before January happened, we were friends. I want to be friends again. I'm horrible at writing letters but-… right there, the letter was stopped and scratched out so barely visible. On the same piece of paper just a little bit under it she wrote: Spot - I believe you. I don't want to fight with you anymore. Tonight was fun. Friends? -Rookie

Rookie sighed, feeling a mixture of guilt and anxiety. She felt extremely guilty for betraying Suave's trust, for betraying Manhattan, but she was anxious to give Spot the note, and to receive a reply. She folded the note carefully, biting her lip so hard she almost split it. On the front of the note she wrote: Do not open until back in Brooklyn. She then hid it on the inside of her palm.

Right now, she was sitting at the front desk area, waiting for the leaders to come down. They should be down any second, and she had to start walking up the stairs at the exact right moment.

As soon as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, she hopped off her chair quietly and headed for the stairs herself. Jack and David lead the way down the stairs, followed by Fire, then Talker, and Spot brought up the rear. All of them looked a mess of angry, loathing, and tired. Rookie walked to the right of them, avoiding eye contact.

When she was passing Spot, she took her note between her forefinger and her middle finger and slipped it carefully into his pocket, only glancing to the side. He hesitated, but she just kept walking up, her eyes set on the bunkroom door. In less than a second, he had continued walking down the stairs.

When she returned to the bunkroom, she found Suave waiting for her on her bed with bear. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She felt horrible as she forced a smile and kissed his lips gently.

And then the door burst open and Jack and David walked in. Rookie sat on her bed and turned her full attention to David while he explained their situation.

He explained that isolationistic ideals had been set up among the four major newsie boroughs (not in those exact words, of course). Each one was to keep to themselves until a better plan could be thought up. If any newsie was to step into the others without an invitation or a peace flag or armband, would be seen as an invader and taken into hostage by the "invaded" borough. Only allies were able to communicate, and that was on a much stricter level. There were to be shifts of guards at different points of each borough border. The rules were to take effect immediately after Talker, Fire, and Spot returned to their boroughs and set up guards.

"So, dis is pretty close to a peace, right?" Racetrack asked as David stopped. David turned his full attention to the Italian newsie.

"Right now, Race," he said, speaking slowly, carefully. "It's as close as we're gonna get."

&xxx&

Rookie woke up the next morning with a gentle sigh. She looked around, and found that she had awaken on her on means, and not the shouting of Kloppman. She yawned, stretched as gently as she could and slipped out of bed.

She dressed quickly and washed up at a bit of a slower pace. On any other given day, she would have fallen back to sleep. But she was fully awake for some reason, and she blamed it on her dreamless, very restful sleep. Not to mention, she wanted to get down before the others did. She wanted to avoid any conflict that might occur after the previous night, especially between herself and Cat.

So she French-braided her hair and capped her head with her hat. As she looked over herself in the small mirror, she couldn't help but smile ruefully. Her shirt was u-g-l-y, there was no denying that. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbow, revealing just slightly the sleeves of her white undershirt. She fixed her suspenders, tightened her shoelaces, and headed toward the stairs.

Because of their early start, Bear and Rookie were walking down the stairs just as Kloppman was walking up.

"Good morning, Rookie!" he greeted as they passed. "Yoah up early! There's somethin' on my desk. Don't know wheah it came from, it was theah when I woke up." Rookie raised an eyebrow in confusion but thanked Kloppman and continued downstairs.

Sure enough, on Kloppman's desk was a little piece of folded up newspaper. In scraggly penmanship on the front it said: Rookie. She bit her lip and unfolded it. Amongst the lettering of the old newspaper, two words were hand-written in large print.

Friends. - Spot

Author's Note:
Hello everyone! Sorry for the EXTREMELY long wait for this chapter, I've been sosososososo busy! As I might have mentioned before, I got a horse for my sixteenth birthday (best present EVER). This means I'm always at the barn. And when I'm not at the barn, I'm in school, which thankfully is in it's last two weeks. I'm also working on a novel (well, hopefully it will be someday), and a Lord of the Rings fan fiction I haven't touched in months.

I feel absolutely horrible! I promise I'll try and update more quickly. Hopefully, with school ending, I'll be able to write and update much much more.

Thank you so much for all those who reviewed chapter twenty and who added this fic as a favorite story and put it on your story alerts and me on your author alerts! I would be nothing without you, I'm oh-so-grateful to have awesome readers.

Much Love,
xFlipperx

P.S. Title of Chapter = "Whoa" by Paramore