Cracked Walls

By: The Jack Loving Misfit aka Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Spot, Race or any newsies characters. Disney does and I can not even describe how lucky they are.

Rating: R ( language, slash)

Summary: Reflections, each chapter is told in one of the three main characters point of views. I'm probably only going to have three chapters (one from each POV) but if people want me to write more, I might.

Warnings: This story contains SLASH. If you are unaware of what slash is, well, I'm not sure how long you've been reading fan fiction, but you should be familiar with the term. To all you slash regulars, let me warn you that this also contains a very strange pairing. One that was thought up last night by my dream induced mind. So please don't kill me. Because my mind has a mind of it's own and I can't control the images it creates after watching Newsies back to back three times and staying up til two in the morning. Blame the dreams, it's really all their fault.

And so, without further stupid ramblings on my part, here is my story. . .

Chapter One: Seed of Envy (Spot)

I hate gamblers.

I didn't used too, but I sure do now. Especially short, loud mouthed, cigar smoking, Italian gamblers from Manhattan.

I suppose I could blame myself, but the whole thing can't possibly be my fault. At least, that's what I keep telling myself because I refuse to see how I could push him so far away that he felt the need to seek comfort from someone else. Especially him. And it's impossible for me to understand or comprehend that I would let him turn his attentions elsewhere without my knowing.

Well, the impossible became the possible just under a month ago. And here I am, still wishing I could point the finger at someone other than myself.

It started shortly after the strike ended. Things were getting back to normal, but not quick enough for him. Most would love the fame that accompanied being the strike leader. But not Cowboy, he wanted all the hype to die down so he could, and I quote, 'go back to being a nobody'. He had come over to Brooklyn when it got to the point where he thought he would go insane from the suffocation.

"Youse the only one I'se can talk too. Leader to leader," He had said as we sat there on the docks.

Jack's got this one bad habit of just staring at you with this completely blank expression on his face. Like he's trying to eat you alive with his eyes or something. Or trying to figure out exactly what's going through you mind and exactly each emotion you're feeling. I hate his staring. It makes my face get all hot and makes me uncomfortable. I don't like being picked apart or studied. And that night he was doing it a lot. In fact, the stare was so intense I had to light up a cigarette to calm my bouncing nerves. But no matter what I did he wouldn't stop.

"You got a staring problem do ya Jacky-boy?" I asked, laughing bitterly before putting my cigarette back into my mouth.

He didn't say anything or even acknowledge that he'd hear me speak. Instead he leaned towards me and plucked the cigarette from between my lips and crushed his own lips to mine. It was a searing and short kiss. When he broke it he kept his eyes closed and his body tensed. Probably expecting me to punch him. And I'll admit, that was my first instinct. But in this case I went with my second thought, pulling him back down into a hungry and passionate kiss.

And that was how it all began a little over a year ago. Even after the hype died down to only the occasional whisper from the street passer-bys, we continued to meet at night (Sometimes in Manhattan, Sometimes in Brooklyn and one time in Queens which was by accident) to talk which always ended up with us making out like a couple of horny fifteen year olds. Never less, never more. And I figured Jack felt nothing as I had convinced myself that I felt nothing beyond friendship for the handsome Manhattan leader. Until one night proved my theory wrong.

We were kissing (on the docks in Brooklyn this time) when he laid me down on my back and climbed over me, straddling my hips. He kissed me again than sat up and started dexterously undoing my shirt, slipping my suspenders off my shoulders as well. That sent alarms off in my head and I grabbed his wrists before he could remove my shirt fully.

"What da hell do ya think yer doing?" I hissed at the boy peering down at me.

"Undressing you," He said as if it were the most obvious and calm thing in the world.

"I can SEE dat. But I mean why?" I asked.

Jack laughed, a deep throaty laugh which only confused me further. Then, after he had controlled his laughter, he leaned down so that his mouth was right by my ear and I could feel his hot breath on that side of my face. Which in turn heated up the rest of my face.

"I'se don' know about you Conlon, but I ain't ever 'ad sex wit someone wit 'dere clothes on," He whispered seductively in my ear.

With this statement my eyes widened and my breath caught in my own throat. Knowing I still had my hands wrapped around his wrists, I used that to my advantage and shoved him off of me.

He looked mildly shocked and sat back up, placing his dark eyes on me in confusion. Almost demanding that I explain myself.

"What makes you think I'se would sleep wit you?" I asked him in an edgy voice which almost came out as a growl.

Again he just looked at me until I turned to face him while I tried to button back up my shirt in the dark. Then he uttered the words I never expected to hear. Least of all from him.

"Because I love you."

Nobody had ever told me they loved before. Not my whore of a mother and not my drunken abusive bastard of a father. Not anybody. The word love seemed and was foreign to me. I didn't understand it, or even believe it actually existed. Love scared me, I'll admit it. And hearing Jack say those words, it scared the hell out of me. I just froze up.

Jack watched my reaction in silence and frowned. "Don' youse love me?"

Again I clamed up. Love never passed my mind when I was with Jack. Desire, lust, passion those I associated with. Those I understood. Love? He might as well have been speaking in a totally different language. So I hardened my outer shell and answered him.

"No Jack, I don'."

The minute the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. I watched, painfully, as Jack's face fell faster than a ton of bricks. His eyes glazed over and he hung his head so that his brown locks fell across his face shielding it from view. He fidgeted with his hands before speaking in a soft very un-Jack like voice.

"So, what was all dis ta you?"

I swallowed hard. "Don' know. Jist some fun, suppose."

"Fun. . ." He repeated to himself. And suddenly he was on his feet, dusting off his pants and straightening his vest. I scrambled to me feet as well and just stared at him until he raised his eyes to meet mine. They were clouded over in a mixture of pain and self hatred.

"Next time youse wants ta 'ave some fun, warn me okay? Before I make a complete ass of myself," He remarked bitterly, turned on a heel and left me staring after him on the dock.

That night I couldn't sleep, his words were rolling around in my mind and his pained eyes haunted me. I didn't eat the next morning either. And by noon it had gotten so bad that I decided I needed to talk to him personally, so that night I sought HIM out.

"What do ya want Spot?" He asked roughly as I led him away from the thin crowd of night travelers.

"I wanted to say I'se sorry I reacted bad last night," I began trying not to stumble over my words. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at me with blank eyes. Waiting.

"An' I know I'se don' love youse now Jack, but, uh, I could learn. Jist give me a chance," I finished and looked into his finely chiseled face, waiting for the acceptance I knew I would receive.

He peered down at me through his eyelashes but did nothing. So I raised my hand to his head, bringing him down until our lips touched in a feather like kiss. At first he didn't respond, but soon enough he was kissing me back with as much passion as he's ever shone. He even wrapped his arms around me, closing any possible gap between our bodies.

That was the night he became my addiction.

It was also the night I began to fall in love with him.

* * *

We saw each other every night after that for four months. It was exactly before, except this time we never talked, just dove right into the kissing. He never mentioned loving me again and I didn't even know that I was falling for him. All I knew at the time was that I yearned for the nighttime so badly that it was harder for me to sell my papers during the dragging days.

Two months ago, I was waiting for him on the outskirts of Manhattan. It was in the dead of summer and over ninety degrees and I was sweating horridly. Jack arrived about an hour after I did. He was walking slowly, his hands jammed into his pockets and his eyes downcast.

"An' Jacky-boy, what took ya so long?" I asked playfully, approaching him. I reached out to grab his arm but he flinched under my fingers and pulled away as if my touch burned him. Confused, I looked up at him, but for the first time since I met him he wouldn't meet my eyes. That's when I knew for sure that something was wrong.

"Jack?" I questioned. He took an unsteady breath and ran a hand through his hair. A sign to me that he was nervous about something.

"Spot. . . we need ta talk," He said finally, shifting his weight.

"Okay Jack. What about?" I tried to sound calm but I didn't like the way he was sounding.

"Us. Dis nightly thing we do. I. . .you. . . god. It's jist. . . I'm tired Spot," He said rubbing his eyes. From the way he said it I had the feeling that he wasn't talking about being tired physically. And that started to make ME nervous.

"What 'da ya mean?" I asked slowly even though a nasty pit was forming in my stomach.

"I mean I can't do dis no more!" He exploded in anger, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Wese could cut back ya know? Not do dis every night or somethin," I told him keeping my voice low and steady.

"No. I can't do dis. It's tearin me apart," He said firmly.

"But I don't understand Jack!" I cried, letting some of my welling desperation enter my voice.

"Youse do understand! You jist don' want too!" He yelled back in my face, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Tell me. Tawk to me. Tell me what I'se can do ta change yer mind," I pleaded, almost begged him. I grabbed his arm and squeezed hoping I could make him look at me and see I was serious.

"Tell me you love me."

I was so stunned by the coolness of his voice that I let go of his arm.

"W-What?"

"Tell me you love me. Three little words Spot and I'll never leave," He turned to look at me and I stared straight into his piercing dark orbs. The intensity of them almost making me melt on sight.

That's when it hit me like I'd been punched in the gut and chest.

I did love him. Just watching him then I realized it. I also realized I needed him. But I was too distracted by my revelation and far too stunned as well to answer him. Which he took in the wrongest way possible. He let his gaze drop from my eyes and he sighed sadly.

He closed the distance between us and dropped a kiss on my lips. I kissed back readily trying in anyway possible to show him what my own voice still couldn't form the words too. He was the one who broke the kiss and ran his thumb over my bottom lip, smiling sadly down at me.

"Goodbye Spot," He said, breaking my heart with two words. The same way I broke his by not saying three. Poetic justice isn't it?

I just watched him go, my mind was still racing and when my legs finally freed themselves from their cement encasing I traveled back to my bunkhouse in Brooklyn. Slowly. My boys were asleep when I got there, and I quietly crashed on my bed. It may have been almost a hundred degrees out, but I felt cold. And very alone.

And very aware that I had just lost not only my best friend, but the only person to ever love me and all because of my own stubbornness.

* * *

I knew Racetrack was Jack's best friend as far as the Manhattan newsies went, and I didn't think that much of it when they started hanging around each other after our "break-up". At least, I didn't think that much of it until I saw the way Race was looking at Jack. I knew that look, all too well and I didn't like seeing it on the little gamblers face. Especially since it was directed in Cowboy's direction.

Although angry that Race would even dare to look at Jack that way, it didn't hurt me until I actually saw Jack return the look. And even then I didn't really believe it until I caught them together by accident.

I had come over to Manhattan to visit them, and may be talk to Jack a little. At least get him speaking to me civilly again. I walked in and asked were Jack was, the boys were down in the halls playing some cards and being just generally lazy. It didn't occur to me when I didn't see Jack among them that Race wasn't either, and at the time I don't think it occurred to them either or they might have stopped me from what I was about to witness.

"I think 'e's upstairs," Blink said shrugging his shoulders when I questioned them. Taking his suggestion I made my way up the creaky old stairs cautiously.

When I didn't hear anything after pressing my ear to the surface of the door, I opened it slowly and quietly. I peered inside and didn't see anything right away. I was about to call out when I heard a small noise to the left of me. I ducked down slightly, out of sight, and looked in that direction. And the next thing I know I'm trying to catch myself from falling flat on my face in total shock.

Standing there, I saw Jack and Racetrack. Jack was leaned up against the bunks with his arms resting slightly on Race's hips, while Race was gripping Jack's shoulders for what looked like dear life. They were kissing deeply, and it didn't look like this had just began then. I watched the two with wide eyes before I felt myself get sick and I slipped out of the doorway unseen.

I stood outside the door for a few minutes, my breathing shallow and I'm sure my cheeks were flushed. But when I thought I had recovered enough to walk without falling I walked back down the stairs even slower than I walked up and not really noticing where I was going.

"Was 'e up dere?" Mush called from the poker game they had started on the last couple steps of the stairs. Blink, Snitch, Crutchy and Bumlets all looked up at me.

"Um, yeah. But he and Race were. . .talking," I trailed off thinking up an excuse because I wasn't sure if any of the guys knew about any of this.

"An youse didn't just barge in?" Snitch asked me, not meaning to sound sarcastic or anything, so I didn't glare at him.

"They uh, sounded serious," I mumbled and rubbed my fingers over the top of my cane absent mindedly. They exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"Huh. Those two 'ave been hanging round each other too much lately," Blink commented narrowing his eyes in thought.

"Yeah. Dey have. Hey! Maybe dey're 'aving a lovers spat!" Skittery called from the ground by the poker players. He had a big grin on his face and the rest of the group burst out laughing, showing me that he was just kidding around. Oh, if they only knew. . .

"Well, whatevah. I'm getting outta 'ere," I said suddenly and pushing my the remaining newsies that were in my way. They obliged (moving I mean) without protest and let me go out into the streets.

"See ya Spot," Boots called before I was out of the door. I nodded back at him and left them back to their other activities.

When I did see Jack again, it was in Medda's with all the other Manhattan boys. I was sitting two tables away from him sipping my beer and watching him through my eyelashes. Race was right up next to him even though they were the only ones at the table, all the other guys were by the bar getting drunker than dogs. Myself, I was going half insane just watching them.

They're fingers brushed every time either reached for their own beers and instead of talking to each other like normal people they were whispering everything. Jack's arm was casually draped across the chair Race was sitting in and Race was pretty much invading Jack's personal space. They were so obvious that no one noticed it. But I think it was Jack's expression that angered me the most.

He looked happy.

Hell, happy is an understatement. He was so happy he was glowing! This bright smile was covering his whole face and his eyes were shining under the dozens of lights that were illuminating the whole place. And I couldn't help but think that even though he claimed to love me, he never looked that happy around me.

I suppose I never let him though did I? I never let him touch me, even a slap on the back, in public once we had our nightly 'flings'. I barely even acknowledged him talking to me then too. To him, it must've seemed like I was using him. And yet he kept coming back because he loved me and thought he could make me love him. Well, now that I do, he's with Racetrack. Who isn't pushing him away. Who seems to be giving him the attention and affection he deserves but never received from me. Race isn't holding him at arms length hoping no one will find out. Praying that he doesn't actually feel something for Jack and stubbornly refusing to believe it.

In fact, I bet Race tells Jack he loves him every chance he gets.

That's were I messed up. I didn't seem to care, I only let him do what I wanted him too and never showed any appreciation for it in return. I was acting like Spot Conlon around him. And he didn't need Spot Conlon the fearless, cold Brooklyn leader. He needed Spot Conlon the seventeen year old boy. The human Spot Conlon. And I refused to give him that.

Everyone has their breaking point. At least all humans do, and that's why Jack finally left me. Left me and moved on. . .

. . . to Race.

God, have I mentioned how much I hate that guy? Well, I guess hate is too strong a word, it's next to impossible to actually hate him. But I'm damn close too hating him. Mostly because he's smarter than me. (Not that I'll admit that to anyone) He has Jack. And he knows how to keep him. I'm not sure if Jack loves him but the way they act around each other. . . I wouldn't be surprised if I was the farthest thought from his mind. And it hurts to think about that, but I've got to be realistic don't I?

He caught me staring at him that night in Medda's when Race was yelling at Snipeshooter for something. I didn't look away at first I just pressed my eyes to his and we stayed like that for a few moments. He knew I knew, I could see it in the way his face contorted in pity and apologizes. Like he owed me something after the way I had treated me. I looked away when I spotted the pity. I'm Spot Conlon for christ sakes, I don't need anybody's pity.

I don't need pity.

But I do need Jack.

I just wish I hadn't been stupid enough not to go after him that night and tell him what I had realized. I wish I hadn't been such a coward when it came down to it. I wish I was smart enough to hold on to him because every minute of knowing he's not mine is like living a minute in the deepest depths of hell.

But most of all I wish I had Jack with me. Loving me. Needing me.

Where's a shooting star when you need one?