A/N: Not too much happens in this chapter guys... it's just a little bit of a pick me up. Lemme know what you think.
To my reviewers, you lovely folk, you :)
Hakunaaa Matataaaa: Sorry i don't have more for you right now, but coming up there will be more Spot/Rois an you can see who'll win in a battle of wills :) lemme know what you think of Rois's little hidden talent?
Guest: Sorry there's not too much action, but its just sort of background and characters relations and little snippets in time until everything starts up.
Jean-Moddalle: Thank You for your review, as always!
Guestanewone: This fic is a total focus on spot and the little world the newsies live in and what they experience outside of manhattan so i hope t include a lot more stuff like with aces and getting out and just how they function! Lemme know what you think of what's going on and where the story's going :)
.2018: thanks fam!
"And Red?" Spot heard Rois ask softly as he approached his room- he supposed it was theirs now. He'd given her the bed. But he'd since taken up residence on a small cot erected on the other wall a few feet away at night. "Ya… you been keepin' an eye on me brudda', yeah?"
"Rois…"
"I ain't askin ye ta talk to 'im fer me," she said hurriedly. "I'll… I gotta do t'at on me own… when I can see 'im. I jus'... tank ya, is all."
"It ain't a big deal, Dollface."
"Oh, not you too," she groaned, "Spot already has all the lil ones callin' me that."
He laughed. "Name's catchin', ain't it?"
"Git outta here," she laughed. "And tell Legs I sewed up 'is pants fer 'im!"
Red was laughing when he exited, almost running right into Spot, who cast him a slightly warning, slightly amused glaze. Red rolled his eyes at the Leader and gestured back over his shoulder at Rois. "She's fittin' in well."
Spot nodded, "Fer now… half da boys ain't seen her an' she'd been 'ere a week."
"She keeps sewein' up e'rebodies clothes like she's doin and she'll have da whole lodgin house on 'er side," Red laughed.
"Pipsqueak doin' any better?" Spot asked with narrowed eyebrows. Rois was doing much better, but Eoghan had been struggling since she woke- he was angry with her, but he loved her. He worried about her, but he didn't want to speak to her. The short and stocky little boy was all sorts of conflicted.
"'E's alright," Red shrugged. "I think he misses her."
Spot nodded, "Keep an eye on him."
"Will do," Red grinned.
It stormed that night. Hard. The heavy grey clouds that had smothered the blue of the sky for the last few days letting loose with the crack of lighting and the cry of thunder booming off the brick walls of the city as rain pounded the streets.
It was a harder storm then they'd experienced in quite a long time. Eoghan jumped at the sudden clap of thunder, glancing upward to the ceiling, but Spot knew he wasn't thinking about the roof- but the girl upstairs. He shook his head and joined in a game of marbles with Rickety, and Yo-Yo- determined to ignore the pounding of the rain and the rolling of thunder overhead. A nod in the boy's direction told Red to keep an eye on the kid.
Bait and Legs crept up the stairs in a way that said they thought they were sneaky- little did they know Spot, Pick, Red and at least three other newsies were well aware of their movements.
Czech passed them on the way down, and rolled his eyes as Spot moved to follow them from a distance. "She said something about singing to her brother during storms earlier today when Legs mentioned he didn't like rain," he said by way of explanation.
In Eoghan's absence at her beside, the two youngest newsie boys had taken up a residence at the foot of her bed- keeping her company, they said, but it seemed they liked having the small bit of normalcy, a girl fretting over their appearance, their well being, did they have enough to eat?
When he walked by the room, Legs sat at the foot of the bed, Bait sitting close-up next to her, leaning closer as the thunder roared and the rain bared down even harder, dripping through the roof as it did in the corner of the room.
"It's a'ight," she smiled, an arm around the boy. "God's playin' music, t'at's all," she said.
"Think 'e needs more practice," Legs mumbled.
She laughed. "Well, I did promise you a song earlier- would you like to hear one?" she was offering a distraction.
They nodded furiously and she thought for a moment before she sang:
"One evening fair as I roved out down the river side,
I heard a lovely maid complain- the tears rolled down her eyes,
'It was a cold and stormy night'- these sad words did she say-
'When my love went on the raging sea, bound for Americay!'
'My love was a fisherman. His age was scarce eighteen!'
He was a handsome man as was ever yet seen,
My father, he has riches, and O'Riley was but poor,
And because he was a fisherman he could not him endure."
It was a sad song with a happy tune, forbidden love and all- cliche, but good song material. And her voice was fair, not melodious and high like Medda's, but soft and pleasant sounding, maybe just a bit off-key.
"How come 'e couldn't stay wit 'er?" Bait asked.
"She was rich," she sighed, "and her fisherman boy was poor… so her father wouldn't let them be together."
"That's wrong," he heard Bait state strongly and knew she was smiling.
"It is," she said, thunder rolling overhead, "Oh don't be afraid," she said.
"I ain't afraid!"
"A 'course not"
"...I just don like da rain."
Spot noticed Eoghan too had climbed the stairs to listen in. "She singing?" he asked.
Spot nodded as she told the boys, "Rain is a good thing! Lets the crops grow and the flowers bloom. Irishmen love the rain," she said.
"Will you sing another song?" Legs asked her hopefully.
"I will," she said with a smile. "Any requests?"
"Sing the one about Irish Eyes," Eoghan said, drawing their attention to himself as he walked in the door. Spot standing in the shadows, just outside the door, unseen.
Rois smiled softly at her brother, one hand twirling the pair of rings on her makeshift rope necklace and the other motioning for him to join them on the bed. He sat down on the edge beside Legs and gave her a shaky smile. Perhaps not all was fixed, but it was on is way to mending.
"When Irish Eyes are smiling," she began the happy tune with a smile and a pointed look at Eoghan.
"Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter," her voice rose.
"You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away."
Spot watched the boys laugh, despite the darkness roaring just outside and with an upward tilt of his mouth, left the hall, a pair of green eyes smiling in his mind.