DISCLAIMER: The characters not found in the movie Newsies belong to me and those that are belong to Disney. Simple as that. Have a nice day. OoOgles, and 'The Line' is an idea created by the lovely and talented Meow. ^_^

A.N. We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! We broke 200!!! *The newsies throw confetti into the air and start table dancing* w00t w00t! THANK YOU EVERYBODY! We broke 200!!! This calls for a celebration; everyone gets the newsie of their choice dipped in hot fudge and topped with whip cream! THANK YOU!

*SHOUT-OUTS*

~let: YaaaY, she's not mad at Spot anymore! *Spot wipes a tear of joy from his eye* ^_^ Thanks for your long make-up review, lol. Much appreciated. Hope ya like this chapter!

~Gothic Author: No, don't stop reading the story!! *Orders Jack to throw a lasso over G.A. and reel her back in* Heehee. Thanks for the review, keep reading! : )

~Isabelle Gibson: Oh dear, now we have people screaming over Runner. *looks at Spot for help; he whistles innocently* Don't cry, m'dear. Just keep reading. ^_^

~Dimples: Heya Dimps, how was the last day of school for youse? Thanks for your faithful reviews! Enjoy this chapter!

~StupidChocolateGurl: Thanks for the compliments, doll, and for all the reviews. Here's another chapter coming at ya!

~Chewy: I like that name, by the way. It's cute. ^_^ Runner, Runner, Runner. *sigh* You are one of nine people who were distraught by the last chapter. Whatever shall I do? Ah well, just keep reading, k?

~Jack Kelly's Lady: w00t w00t! Runner is the man! *pinches his cheeks* Glad you're loving the story so far! Thanks for all the reviews!

~asp: Would I kill my readers' favorite character? Hmmm, I'm not so sure. Maybe this chapter will reveal that, so keep reading! ^_^ And don't hurt me, lol.

~kellyanne: Ha, thanks for the compliments. The Line...*cringes with fear* That's some heavy stuff there. It was an idea of my friend Angel; I just adapted it and put it into my own writing. Glad ya liked it, though.

~Spider Chick: Yea, all the guys have acted pretty stupid; I agree with youse there. *Dodges as Spot, Jack, Runner, and Race throw household objects at her* Ahhh! Anywho, cookies to you for reviewing! W00t w00t! Hope ya like this chapter!

~Deanie: You were right, my friend. Quite a number of people were upset over last chapter's usage of the word "lifeless". Whatever will I do now, though? *Runs away from the threats* ^_^ Runner, Runner, Runner. Glad ya liked last chapter, though. Here's another one for youse!

~Rhapsody: Ah, Runner's love. : ) Hmmm, you want Runner all to yourself, do you? Assuming that he's still alive, are we? Or maybe you just knew that I was aware of the fact that you'd beat me with a hanger if I were to kill him? Well...*packs her bags and moves to an isolated island* Keep on reading!

~Random: Kewl beans! Glad you've been following along since the beginning. I hope the story's been a good read. You're my tenth major Runner fan, darling, or at least the tenth to review about his...'lifelessness'. ^_^ Enjoy this chapter!

~AND FINALLY GETTING TO THE STORY~

*Just A Little Bet*

~~~Race looked at her in uncertainty. Her past? It was something almost every newsie he knew dreaded. Memories they refused to relive, pains once known that they wanted to keep buried in their minds. And to think upon how guarded Becca acted around him, he could only wonder what her past entailed.

"Alright," he whispered to her as they sat in the empty bunkroom, barely able to make out each other's faces in the growing darkness. "I'se listening."

Becca looked away from him, trying to think of how she should start. She pulled the blanket about her closer to fend off the chills and began. "My mother was an Irish Catholic, my father a Dutch Protestant. They met in the south, where I get my accent, and fell in love. But they didn't have the blessings of their families.

"If you didn't know, Catholics and Protestants tend to quarrel and dispute a lot, and that's exactly what their families did. The fighting traces all the way back to the times of Martin Luther...but in any case, my mother and father loved each other too much to let petty matters stand in the way. They were married and years later became pregnant with me.

"The families were enraged, but nothing infuriated the Catholic bunch more than when my mother passed away giving birth to me. They instantly pointed their fingers at my father for the death, and since I had his blood in me, they didn't want anything to do with me. The Protestant bunch didn't want anything to do with me either. After all, I also had Catholic blood in me. They all abandoned my father."

She paused. Race rubbed her back, thinking she had fallen too weak to continue, but then he realized she was only finding the right words before speaking again. "I remember when I was four; my father and I sat around a twig of a Christmas tree singing carols. Can you imagine...having countless aunts, uncles, and cousins for your family but receiving none for the holidays just because of the blood that runs in your veins? Just because you're the child of someone who held a belief contrary to yours? I don't even understand it! They believed in the same God, Race! What did it matter how they went about doing things?"

Race thought he should say something but didn't quite know what. He simply let the words roll off his tongue. "Some people is too stupid tah look past differences." He wasn't sure whether it was perhaps more severe than she would have liked; when she nodded her head in agreement, he figured he had spoken what she could not.

"My father lost his job the next year," she went on again, her voice growing despondent. "He started drinking a lot, and he wouldn't come home until late at night. It got to the point when I was afraid to talk to him, but he never hurt me. In the summer, my uncle on his side came to speak with him. 'Why don't you go to New York,' he had said. 'There are lots of opportunities there for working men.' My father thought it was a great idea."

Outside, lightning cracked in the distance like a mighty whip, brightening the skies for a brief second before retreating into the midnight backdrop. Becca listened to the pellets of rain that thundered onto the lodging house roof and frowned.

"It was raining the first time it happened. We were living in Midtown then, in a tiny shack we could barely fit in. My father tried to find work but it seemed like everywhere he went, the positions were all filled. He went back to drinking..."

She didn't want to go on; it was agonizing to remember such things about the only family member who had accepted her for who she was. "He started yelling at me one night when I had forgotten to wash the dishes. He threw me onto the small couch we had and started hitting me. I tried to scream for help and get away, but he held me there and threatened to kill me if I didn't shut my mouth..."

Race took her hand and gripped it tightly. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she had his support. She smiled sadly at him and sighed. "That's when he started touching me in a way that made me cry. It hurt so much...I thought it'd never end. When it was over, I ran into my room and sobbed." Tears were freely falling from her eyes now, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. "It wasn't the last time he did it either. He'd force me onto that couch at least three times a week. He didn't even care that he was hurting me. Every night I prayed that somehow I would die and not have to go through with it anymore.

"A few months later, he got tired of me and sold me off to a friend of his for some beer money. I like to tell myself that he had no idea what he was doing, but I might as well deal with reality already. The man who 'owned' me then was Calvin. He was actually a gentleman. It took some more months to get use to him, but soon enough I realized he wasn't that bad a guy. I lived with him for six years in Manhattan, twenty minutes away from Sheepshead.

"It wasn't until my twelfth birthday that he took advantage of me. We were at a party for New Year's and after the count down, he dragged me into a back alley and suddenly pressed himself against me. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, but before I could stop him, he threw me to the ground and...he lost my trust. I was afraid to tell anyone since Calvin was the only one I had. He kept telling me no one would take a 'dirty brat' in, and I believed him."

Race pulled her closer to him and held her tight. "Don't evah let anyone tell youse somethin' like that. Ya not 'doity', ya me goil! Ya shoulda went tah the police."

"I know that now," she replied softly. "But I didn't know then. So I let Calvin have his way with me. I felt miserable all the while. In the spring, he took me to Sheepshead for a Championship run." A smile graced her lips for the briefest moment. "I had always loved horses. Growing up in the south when I was younger, I was always surrounded by them and I thought they were beautiful. So when I saw them again that day, I knew I wanted to be around them more often.

"Calvin had other plans for me, though. While we were watching the horses ready up for the run, he told me a local Bordello was looking for daytime positions to be filled. I was horrified! I had had enough being abused by my own father and Calvin! I wasn't about to submit to the entire male population of the state! So I jumped to my feet and ran as fast as I could. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Calvin caught up with me, yanked me into a corner, and slapped me hard.

"And that's when Mr. Webster came. 'Take your hands off the young lady,' he had said to Calvin. Calvin backed away at once. I think he thought Webster was a cop. Either way, he spat at my feet and then walked off. Webster asked me if I was alright afterwards; I broke down into sobs. I told him I didn't have a place to stay or a job to keep me going. You know what he said? 'Now you do, young lady.' And from that day on, I've worked in the stables with the horses I love."

Race was speechless, to say the least. He hadn't expected to hear such a gruesome tale narrated from Becca's lips. She was a sweet, innocent girl with a lovable air about her that was at once welcoming and friendly. She shouldn't have had to go through all those trials, all that hurt. He hugged her close and kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry, Becca. If I'se had known, I wouldn't have pushed ya so hard."

"It's about time I stop dwelling on it, I guess." She rested her head onto his chest. "But do you see now, Race? Do you see why I thought I could only trust the horses? And why I don't have any pictures from the family that hated me? For a long time, I was so afraid of meeting new people. In a way, I still am. But I guess I took the first step today, right?"

He turned her face so that they were eye to eye and then kissed her gently. "Yea, ya did. And youse aint gotta be afraid no more, Becca, cause I'se gunna be heah fer youse always."

~*~*~*~*~

Mallory held her face in her hands as she sat in a corner of her Victorian house and waited as her father received his daily check-up in his bedroom. She almost emitted a cry. In her absence from home, her father's condition had worsened to the point in which a visiting nurse would every day come to the Carter house to tend to the man and make sure all was well. Mallory didn't know what she was going to do. She certainly couldn't continue attending classes while her father was deteriorating in health!

Maybe it would be better if she simply dropped out of St. John's Prep. When she had returned February 15 in newsboy attire, her roommate Samantha had rambled on about how hard covering up for the girl was getting. "You told me you and Lucas would only be gone for a few hours!" the girl had exclaimed that morning. "Not a whole night! What did you expect me to tell Mother Randall when she checked each room before lights out?"

Mallory had received three days of suspension for having left the campus after curfew. It didn't worry her too much, though. As a matter of fact, it gave her much needed time with her father and the home she missed. The doorbell rang then. It was a mailman delivering a telegram from the private school. She signed for it and then hesitantly took it from the man's hand. After closing the door, numerous questions zoomed through her mind.

Had the headmaster decided to expel her? Would her scholarship be taken away from her? Would they demand to know where she had been and with whom? Her heart palpitating, she tore open the telegram and began reading...

~Dear Parent,

Greetings to you from St. John's Preparatory School. We trust that you are good and well.

This telegram is to inform our parents of a recent grievance the student body is making do with. Young Lucas Conlon, a junior here at St. John's, was hospitalized earlier this week after a physical assault outside school grounds. We ask each of you to, as a parent, speak with your child and stress the importance of staying on campus where he/she will be secure from such misdeeds.

If your child will require counseling for the coming weeks, please contact us so that the proper arrangements might be made. And above all, please keep Lucas and the Conlon family in your prayers.

God Bless ~Father Romanik, Assistant Director

Mallory's heart sank. She tightened her grip on the telegram until her knuckles became white, her hands trembling as the words registered in her mind. Hospitalized? But why? What had happened? Why hadn't the Brooklyn newsies saved him? She fell to her knees and stared off into the distance. Would he be all right?

~*~*~*~*~

Spot watched on with reddened eyes as the doctors drew blood from Runner's arm and then exited the room without saying a word. The Brooklyn leader glared after them and then returned his gaze to his cousin. The younger boy slept peacefully under a pile of white sheets in the bed before him, tiny cuts marking his body and a band of gauze swathed around his head where had had been hit.

"Damnit, Runnah, wake up," he groaned. Combing his fingers through his hair, he scooted his chair closer to the boy's bedside and waited, as if he thought Runner would awaken merely because he had demanded it.

The door to the room slowly opened, a young nurse with short brown hair and warm eyes standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. Spot turned to face her and his eyes widened at the pleasant surprise. "Angel! What is youse doin' heah?" He rose to his feet and collected her into a long hug, only to pull her back at arm's length with a smile.

"I'm taking my internship here. After I graduated, the hospital offered me a small job and I took them up on the offer." She smiled back at him. Over five years ago, she and Spot had shared the same classes at St. John's; they'd even been together for a short time. But a change in futures eventually made them go their own ways.

After only a few seconds, Spot remembered the boy behind him. His face darkened and he once again took up his post at Runner's bedside. Angel pulled up a chair and joined him. "When I saw that a 'Lucas Conlon' had been checked in, I came here as soon as I could. I'm so sorry, Spot. I know how much he means to you." She placed a comforting hand on his arm, but his eyes told her he didn't feel any better.

Spot sighed. "I'se been such a joik tah him, Angel. I'se been treatin' him like doit, and even though he acts like it don't mean nothin' and that he don't care, I know it really hoits 'im."

"He's going to be okay. Don't worry about it."

"But I do worry about it! What if he doesn't pull through, huh? The doctor's been sayin' that he's in some deep coma they don't think he can wake up from and I can't help thinkin' that it should be me in that bed instead of him!"

Angel firmly grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Stop blaming yourself. Nothing you say is going to make the situation any better! Lucas is a strong person, you know that. He's going to make it through."

Spot was captivated by the serenity in her eyes. It almost made him want to stop worrying about Runner. He relaxed in her hold and took her hands in his. "Ya don't know about all the shit I've put 'im through, Angel. I don't know why he keeps lookin' up tah me."

"You're his cousin and probably his best friend too." She laughed playfully. "And sure you can be a jackass sometimes, but that's just the Conlon trait working in." Spot glanced at her dejectedly but she gave him a quick peck on the cheek to prove it was only a joke.

"I'se just hope he..." He didn't get to finish. A door slam interrupted his words. He and Angel looked up to see a suited man approach them, a woman in nun attire behind him. Spot tentatively stood up; it was the first time Angel had seen nervousness in the young man.

The man remained where he was, rigid and obviously angered. Only once did his eyes fall on the sleeping boy upon the bed, and when they did, they instantly diverted their gaze elsewhere. Onto Spot. They burned into him like fire.

"Andrew," the man hissed, "if you ever come near my son again, I will have you arrested by the authorities. Waste your life all you want, but don't you dare take Lucas along with you!" He pointed an accusing finger in Spot's face and his voice rose dauntingly. "Don't think I won't disown you, Andrew! Your father was a worthless drunk fool, and I didn't have a problem turning my back on him."

He looked once more at Runner and then turned on his heels and disappeared out the door. Mother Conlon was left behind, her face stained with tear trails. "Andrew..." her voice was gentle but held within it all the pain a mother losing her son could contain. She covered her mouth as to prevent herself from wailing at the sight of her unconscious son.

"Aunt Patricia," Spot began, but the woman shook her head and left the room as well. The Brooklyn leader collapsed into his rightful chair with a groan. "Great, now me whole family hates me!"

Angel ruffled his hair, grinning. "Ah, don't worry about them, Spotty. As long as you have your buddy Lucas here, you're fine."

"Yea, but I'se beginnin' tah think that I'se gunna lose 'im too."

~*~*~*~*~

Review! Please? Love ya all! ^_^