Disclaimer: I do not own newsies. I own only Miracle and Raven owns Raven. I do not have Raven46's permission to use her in this story so if it suddenly disappears, that is why.

Times Of Trials

Chapter 2

"No."

The word slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think.

As though on que, the grin disappeared off his face.

His eyes searched me as I slipped out of Medda's.

I sprinted over the Brooklyn Bridge, with occasional glances over my shoulders.

I darted through the streets and plopped down on the dock.

The same dock where we had sat together.

The same dock where I had been abandoned by him.

"It's not fair Spot! What happened to Tanya is no way to live. She deserves to be alive still, but she's lucky she doesn't have to live through that torture any more."

I lowered my head to Spot's shoulder and he patted my back.

"I know. My sistah always dreamed of a bettah life."

Suddenly, he stopped and paled.

"Your sister? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Burrow leadahs can't tell nobody 'bout family members foah da fear of dem being hurt in order to get to da leadah. Dat's why I didn't tell you."

"I can understand that. I always wondered why Jack wouldn't tell anybody we were related."

"Yea." I watched him as he ran a hand through his short brown hair.

Why was he acting so nervous?

He was always out right with me.

"What's wrong?"

"Wha . . ." He looked up at me. "Oh, not'ing."

"I'm not stupid Spot. Something's wrong and I'm not gonna stop bugging you 'til I find out."

"Will . . ." He stopped and took my hand in his.

"Will ya be my goil?"

I stared at him in shock.

I was dreaming.

I was sure I was.

I pinched myself. It hurt.

"Yes." I looked at him and his face inched slowly closer to mine until our lips brushed.

I still got the feeling that he was hiding something from me.

A secret of sorts, but a secret that wasn't a secret.

Like a garden that everybody knew about, but nobody dared to speak of.

I looked down at my white shirt and brown slacks and fingered the red suspenders that Spot had given me.

Pulling my leg up to me chin, I fiddled with my fingers, eventually turning to my toes for entertainment.

I bent them this way then that.

Then this way again, before I froze.

"What do you want Jack."

"I'm not Jack."

The chilling voice reached my ears and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears.

"I'm dreaming. You're dead. You're not here."

"If I'm not here, then why are you talking to me?"

I looked away as his bare feet slid down and swung over the water next to mine.

"You never used to talk to yourself you know."

He reached for my hand and I slid over.

"What do you want? If you're here, you must be a ghost or something. And that means if I do what you want, you'll go away."

"I want you to know that I'm not really dead."

"Ya right!"

That was it.

I was sick and tired of this Spot-look-alike teasing me.

I climbed to my feet and jumped.

"Get out of my life!"

I dove under the water and let out all of my air.

My eyes open, I squinted at the murk and mud that was the east river.

I opened my mouth to laugh as I saw a boot float by, filling it with water.

I choked and pushed myself to the surface. I floated momentarily, waiting for that same voice to make another smart ass comment.

It never came.

I turned and looked around me for any other forms.

He was gone.

I climbed out of the water and made my way back to Manhattan.

There was a poker game and Jack expected me to be there.

It was the only thing that could get me to laugh since it happened.

I smiled as I ran into Race in the bunk room.

He was searching his pockets for something.

"Whatcha lookin' foah Race?"

"I lost me cigah! My last cigah!"

"This one?" I pulled the cigar out of his mouth.

"Oh. Ya."

We hurried to change, I in the bathroom of course, before heading down to the lobby.

Shouts cluttered the hallway beside it and smoke wafted lazily through the open door.

Shoving a cigar in his mouth, I pushed my way in but stopped at the sight of a certain dark haired newsie.

"Wonders!" I shouted.

He looked up.

This boy was the first friend I made in Brooklyn.

"Hey Miracle! Ya heah da news?"

I felt the color drain from my face.

"What news?"

"We got a new leader."

I sighed in relief.

"Nobody knows who he is, but he let us come to da pokah game, so he must be okay."

"Cool."

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned.

It was Skittery.

"Hey Skitts. What do ya need?"

His face was bright as he said, "Somebody outside wants to talk to you."

I shuddered.

"I think it's Eric."

I jumped.

Eric was my boyfriend.

He had welcomed me into his heart when Spot ditched me, and shown me more love than anyone else I knew.

I thanked Skittery and headed outside.

Pushing my way through the crowd that lingered outside the door, I looked around.

"Miracle . . ."

A ghostly voice called to me from a shadowed alley.

"Eric? That you?"

"Come here Miracle."

I walked reluctantly forward.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out a small figure further into the alley.

"Eric?"

The figure looked up, blood stained to it's face.

"Eric!"

I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Rocking back and forth, I chanted, "Eric . . . Eric . . . Eric."

I felt the sobs wrack my body despite my wishes.

Suddenly, a pair of hands clutched my shoulders and pulled me back.

I screamed as the wrapped a thick rope tightly around my wrists.

They shoved a piece of cloth into my mouth.

I silenced.

It was Spot's pocket hankerchief.

It tasted strongly of the East River.

I sobbed, my cry muffled by the cloth.

Two pairs of hands grabbed my arms roughly and pulled my up the side of a building.

Terrified, I barely noticed as my bonds were removed.

I gazed around, realizing gloomily that all edges of the roof were blocked off by two rows of the strongest looking boys I had ever seen.

I felt my knees gave out and I lay gazing horrified at the sky.

My peripheral vision scared me even more, showing me three figures moving hastily towards me.

And I screamed as they showed me to a single form.

"Hello."

"You." I hissed.