Chapter Four: Shadows of Your Past
Spot bounced on the heels of his shoes as he waited - very impatiently - for the clock to move over to the "6" digit, signaling the time he figured Jack would be coming home (or to the lodging house) after work. In all his life, of all the years he'd wasted remembering Jack and wishing he had been there with him, of all the years he'd been on this earth, not one day had passed so slowly as this day was going. At least, not in his mind. Time only went slow when you wanted it to pass quickly and vice-versa.
Sighing, he went over to his desk and sat down in the old seat, his eyes trained - fixated - on the clock staring teasingly back at him. His newsies were wearily coming in by the handfuls, but he didn't notice there insistent chatter for once and made no move to quiet them down as the confining night's made them rowdier then they normally were. That is he didn't notice until he heard Jack's name pop up in one of the conversations being carried on all around him.
"So Kelly really is back?" One of them, Classical, one of the older newsies asked his best friend, the best fighter the Brooklyn boys had at the time, Cross-Match.
"Yeah, dat's what Burn told me dis mornin," He answered, sighing in next to Spot's desk.
"Damn. I'se t'ought dem were jist rumors. So, how's dat going ta work?" Classical asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Spot, unknowingly, leaned closer to hear there rapidly softening words.
"Don' know. But 'e said dat Spot didn't seem to upset wit seein Kelly again," Cross-Match shrugged innocently. Classical frowned.
"How's can 'e NOT be upset? If a guy's tried dat on me. . .well, I'se not sure if I'se would even let 'im live."
Spot froze as he realized what exactly they were discussing. He also grew angry quite fast. His own frown framing his face. Hadn't he told Burn to tell them that now of that was true and to not believe it? Instantly, his respect for the young newsie fell.
"Yeah, I'se know, same 'ere. In fact -
"Ya know, I'se right 'ere an' can hear everything yer sayin," Spot said, breaking up the conversation before it could get any further.
Both boys stiffened as they realized their beloved hero was talking to them with an icy edge behind his voice. They turned to Spot and tried smiling innocently. Exchanging glances quickly, Spot glared over at them, keeping his eyes on theirs, making sure to make them good and uncomfortable before speaking.
"An' I'se don' appreciate ya's talkin about me best friend dat way."
Again the boys turned to each other, there eyes growing big at what Spot had said. Spot continued to glare at them, seeing the unanswered questions lighting through their eyes.
"Yer. . .best friend?" Classical choked out. Voice cracking easily.
Spot nodded. "Jist because Brooklyn and Manhattan hate each other now don' mean we wasn't allies back den. Jack's a great guy. . .da best leadeah I'se eveah seen. Betteah den me even because 'is boys actually like 'im. Or did."
Neither newsie could even digest all of what Spot was telling them. "Youse mean. . .I mean ta say. . ."
Spot narrowed his eyes at them. " 'E didn't 'jump' me or nuthin if dat's what yer asking. 'E always 'ad a steady goil. More so den me even. An' I'se think it would be a good idea if ya's didn't talk like dat around me when it comes ta 'im."
They nodded vigorously and instantly headed up to the bunkrooms, shocked looks on their faces and whispering the moment they knew they were for sure out of Spot's hearing distance. Shaking his head in disgust, Spot turned his eyes back to the clock he'd been watching earlier and felt his anger melt away to the excitement and bouncy-ness he felt earlier.
To help pass the restless time, he remembered. Memories of the better times. Memories from as far back as ten years earlier when they had first met when Jack stumbled drunkenly onto Brooklyn territory. And memories as recent as the day before and the kiss he and Jack had shared sitting on the docks that morning. The kiss had been so familiar and loving and. . .everything Spot wanted. A slow smile crept across his face as he thought of the day Jack left. Bittersweet in it's own right of existence.
* * *
(Flashback)
Carefully, he raised his precious cowboy hat over his head and held it out to him. When he saw what Jack was doing his eyes went all big and he shook his head in protest.
"Jist take it."
"But I can't take dat Jack!"
"Yes you can. And you will. Besides, I can buy a dozen hats once I'm in the real west."
"I ain't got nuthin to give ya."
"Sure ya do. An I'se already gots it. Ya jist won't feel it's gone until I've left."
* * *
That had been completely, utterly true. As time had worn on, the reality of Jack's leaving had worn on him because his heart had left with the brown haired dreamer. And sometimes, it was damn hard to function with a heart. But somehow he had managed to do it. Though he wasn't going to have to anymore. Jack was back. For good. And just that thought made a large smile leap out onto his face. Almost as if he was trying to hard.
Focusing on the numbers by the clock once again, Spot felt his heartbeat begin to race as he saw that it was past time for him to go over to Manhattan to see Jack. Jumping to his feet quickly, he pushed past his desk just as Burn came strolling, soulfully, into the lodging house.
"Look after da kids fer a while would ya Burn?" He rushed, catching the young boy by the elbow. Burn furrowed his eyebrows in question, but seeing the almost desperate look on his leaders face, he nodded. From there Spot dashed out of the door as if the whole lodging house was on fire.
Walking briskly through the streets, he traveled the familiar path to the Brooklyn bridge, lost in his thoughts so totally that he didn't even notice the person he had bumped straight into. Looking up, he smiled sheepishly, tipped his hat to the taller, broader man and bowed slightly.
"Me apologizes sir, I'se wasn't watchin where I'se was going."
The man nodded, and Spot brushed past him on his way. That was, until the man called out to him. Freezing him to his place instantly.
"Too busy thinkin 'bout yer boyfriend coming back ta town was you?" The almost familiar voice asked him. Spinning, he looked at the man, whose face was lit only by the closest lamp light and the moon's various shadows. Squinting, Spot took a step closer to the dark figure.
"Do I'se know youse mistah?"
"Oh, I'se quite sure ya do Conlon."
He stepped into the full range of Spot's seeing distance, and Spot finally recognized them fully. And when he did, he let his surprise and shock fill his facial features fully. The man smirked openly at his formal leader's sudden lack of speech.
"What, no words for me Spot?" He sneered, stepping closer to the younger man.
"Wh - Rage, what are ya doing back in town?" He asked hesitantly, unsure of wither he could trust his former newsie. Or the smirk that was climbing across his face.
"Oh, that? Well, I'se heard a rumor dat Jacky-boy was back in town. An' by the da way youse actin, I'se gonna say youse already seen 'im."
Spot clenched his jaw and only nodded his head stiffly. "Dere somethin ya want Rage?"
Rage smirked and walked right up to Spot, uncaring, unafraid as he had been all those years earlier. "Not particularly. But, well, I'se was planning on going over ta Manhattan an'. . .I don' know, mess around with Jack fer awhile."
Spot's eyes darkened in anger and he finished off the distance between the two of them. "Don' youse dare touch Jack or I'se 'ill kill ya."
"Dat a threat Conlon?" Rage growled.
"No. Dat's a promise."
"Well, in dat case, youse betteah start praying."
The next thing Spot saw was total darkness.
* * *
Jack was staring to get really worried. Race had told him when he had gotten home that Spot had come over earlier in the morning to see what time Jack got off a work so he could tell him something. He'd been at the lodging house waiting since he'd gotten "home" at 6:30 and it was now approaching 10:00. He didn't want to seem out of whack, but he had a bad feeling about why Spot was late. And those thoughts were confirmed when Burn came bursting through the door shortly there after, a panicked look on his young face.
"Where's Splinter? I'se need ta tawk ta 'im," He said desperately, throwing his eyes all around the mostly empty Manhattan lodging house.
"Calm down kid. . .why do you need to see Splinter?" Jack asked, coming slowly out of the shadows were he had been watching the door just as desperately as Burn looked.
Burn cast his eyes over at the older man, apprehensive about being around the famous strike leader. The rumors still bothering him, but what Spot had said had eased most of that. Spot. The reason he was here. His hero, his legend, the very essence of the Brooklyn newsie was missing. And to say it lightly, Burn was freaking out.
"I'se. . .it's Spot. 'E's missing. 'E left da lodging house around 6:30 an' 'e hasn't been back since," Burn explained. He saw a flash of fear and horror in Jack's eyes before the man gained his composure and turned around to grab his coat.
Jack walked to the edge of the stairs and yelled up for Splinter to get down there. He slipped on his coat and turned back around to face the kid staring at him in confusion. Arching an eyebrow he just stared back.
"What? I'm coming with you to look for him."
"Wese don' need yer help," Burn growled out, turning his stare into a glare instantly.
Jack matched his glare and the kid actually snapped backward a little. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be. "I'se don' care if ya need my help or not. Spot's my friend. . .an' I'se coming with you." He said, his accent showing through in his angry and horrified state.
The two glared openly at each other, until Splinter was heard rushing down the stairs and came up to Jack, questions and respect shining in his eyes.
"What's going on? Burn? What'cha doing 'ere dis late at night?" He looked between the two people confused and lost.
"Spot's missing," Jack croaked out when he saw that Burn was going to make no move of actually speaking.
"So? What's it mattah ta me?" Splinter asked, shrugging.
Jack turned his eyes to Splinter, quite sure that they were blazing black at the young teen. Splinter's eyes widened at the furious expression gracing Jack's features. He took a small backward and watched as Manhattan's former leader grew in anger.
"So it doesn't matter to you. But it sure as hell mattah's ta me. Spot's me best friend," He said through clenched teeth.
Splinter's eyes gained in width and he just stared dumbly at Jack. "Are youse serious? I'se thought you two hated each other?"
"Well, wese don'. No put on a coat 'er somethin an' get yer ass out da door cause yer officially gonna help me an' Burn find 'im," Jack whispered venom filling his mouth as he spat out the edgy words.
Splinter nodded in return, grabbed a thin jacket and headed out the door into the chilly, nighttime Manhattan air. Burn and Jack following closely at his heels.
* * *
(An hour and a half later, on the Brooklyn side of the bridge)
"Wese been 'ere already ya dumbass," Splinter yelled when Burn led the trio into a section on Brooklyn they had already searched. Both newsies were well beyond fed-up while Jack was letting different ideas and thoughts flow through his mind. Which gave him something to focus on rather than the mind numbing fear about what may have possibly happened to Spot.
As the two boys stood in the night screaming at each other in anger and weariness, Jack remembered that Spot normally took a different route when going to the bridge then everyone else took. His dark eyes swirled around the darkness quickly, calculating in his mind just what part of the town they were in. From there he decided they weren't far from Spot's normal walking path. Spinning around, he shut both boys up with an ear splitting whistle which echoed through the abandoned street.
"What was dat fer?" Burn asked, his nerves and patience wearing ridiculously thin.
"It was to shut you two up. I might know how we can find him. He used to take a totally different way to the bridge then everyone else. A path more along the alleys and docks. So if he's hurt or something, he's probably in those areas," Jack explained quickly to the teens.
"An' how do ya know all dat?" Burn again asked, still not trusting Jack a hundred percent despite Spot's words.
"Because we'd walk that way sometimes," Jack countered, eyes boring into the kid in front of him, a steely glare covering his face and masking his emotions.
"Well, lead on Jack. . .I'se don' want ta be out 'ere fer da rest of da night ya know," Splinter forcefully said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from going numb.
And Jack did just that. Leading them through the dark twist of the familiar path Spot would take him on during there leader talks over in Brooklyn. Back then, Jack had always enjoyed the strolls, it was a nice change of scenery. But now it was just as dark, scary and frustrating as anything else would be at that moment. He walked faster then he should have. Until he turned down one of the corners and was struck with what looked like a human body lying on it's side by a lamppost.
The body wasn't moving.
The other two seemed to realize it the same moment Jack did and all three sprinted the rest of the short distance to the side of the person. Rolling the person over, Jack instantly recognized him as Spot. A bit bloody and beaten, but with the same boyishly handsome features Spot possessed.
Leaning over, Spot's slight body he, smacked him gently on the sides of his face a few times. When that failed to wake him, he calmed his nerves and told Splinter to go and get some water from the nearby dock. He barely returned with the water, before Jack was pouring some of it onto the unconscious ex-Brooklyn leader. This time his choice worked and Spot coughed out some of the water, but opened his eyes only briefly before dropping them again and choked a little.
"Jack? I'se cold," He managed to weakly say before falling back down to the street level.
Jack hurriedly scooped the much smaller man into his outstretched arms and held his trembling body close to his. Instinctively, Spot flung his arms around Jack's neck and shivered. Jack motioned with his head for Burn to lead them back to the Brooklyn lodging house. Without any questions asked, or any protests made, the silent quartet made there way to the warm, well lit bunks.
The Brooklyn newsies crowded around the door with panic and fear in there eyes when they saw the expression on there leaders face. Splinter followed him with Jack close behind with Spot still shivering, wet and bleeding in his strong arms. They turned their concerned eyes from their hero to the strange older man they'd never seen before. Burn waved them off slightly, a promise of an explanation later in his movements and eyes.
Jack layied Spot gently down onto Spot's bed and immediately took off his jacket, and turned on the light so he could assess the damage down to his friend. Splinter was standing in the doorway, ready to take out any orders and Burn was inside the room, confusion and watching Spot lay on the bed.
Sighing, Jack turned to Splinter first. "Could you go and get me some warm water and wash rag or something?"
"Sure t'ing Jack," He said and went off in the direction of the washroom in search for the needed supplies.
"And you. Take off his shirt," He said to Burn as he rolled up his white sleeves. Burn stared at him as if he had just asked him to jump off the Brooklyn bridge.
"Are youse kiddin? Spot'll kill me if I'se take off 'is shirt!" He said in horror. Jack rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed and began to undo the shirt himself. To which he was stopped instantly by Burn who was glaring at him fiercely.
"Dat don' mean youse can either," He growled menacingly at Jack.
"Too bad. Because I am," He said snapping his wrist out of Burn's grip and finishing his job, and softly, with barely a touch, removed Spot's damp shirt. Bruises were beginning to form all over his chest and stomach. The discolored skin was enough to make Jack sick to his stomach.
Splinter came skidding into the room with the water and wash rag, which Jack took with a thanking smile. He dipped the rag in, wrung it out and pulled up a chair next to the bed, dabbing the rag on gently, and cleaning off the cuts on Spot's pale face.
Spot woke up again as Jack began to, as gently as he could, clean off a sliced cut on his cheekbone. Spot hissed at the pain and flew his eyes open, only to come face to face with Jack's eyes staring intently down at him.
" 'Ay Jacky-boy, what'cha doing 'ere?" He asked in attempted humor, which only got him a glare from the larger man looming just above him. He backed off and let Jack continue what he was doing.
It was then that he noticed the other two faces in the room. Burn was concerned and glaring slightly at Jack. Splinter, who was again leaning on the doorway, was watching the scene with an impassive look on his young face. Glancing back at Jack, he smiled inwardly.
"Can you two do me a favoah an leave me and Kelly alone fer awhile," Spot asked, though his undertone was demanding and left no room for argument.
Reluctantly the teens left, shutting the large door behind them. Licking his lips, (which he instantly regretted doing because his lip was cut) Spot looked up at Jack's face, concentrating on cleaning his battle wounds.
"Jack? I -
"What happened?" Jack cut him off.
"I'se ran inta Rage on me way ta Manhattan."
Jack arched an eyebrow and stopped his work and looked down at Spot's face fully for the first time.
"And?"
"AN' wese 'ad a fight," Spot elaborated.
"Which obviously wasn't a very smart decision," Jack lamented, and brought his hand back up to clean off the final cut on Spot's face, right by his bottom lip.
"Well, youse should Rage is ya's think dis is bad," Spot said, laughing uneasily. Jack unfortunately knew him well enough to see through him. He dropped the used wash rag into the water and traced his eyes down Spot's bruised body.
"Don't be stupid Spot. You're not invincible ya know," Jack said seriously. Spot frowned at Jack's words.
"What'da mean?"
"I mean I don't want you making any rushed decisions. It took Burn, Splinter and me and hour and a half to find you, and it only took that little of time because I remembered that you used the different way to go to the bridge," Jack said, his voice on the edge.
"So sorry yer highness. Next time I'se won't cause ya as much trouble. I'se 'ill jist die instead," Spot mumbled.
Jack's eyes grew cloudy and he looked down at Spot intently. "Don't even joke around like that. If you died - just be careful huh?" His voice had started serious and ended softly.
Spot softened and nodded his head to show that he understood. Jack leaned back in the chair he was sitting in near Spot's bed. Spot sat up and watched as Jack closed his eyes tiredly. He looked beat. Worn down and a hundred other sayings for weary and half dead from the tired. He was fascinated by the way Jack's chest moved up and down so perfectly in-sync with shallow breathing. Both hands were resting on his lap and his lips were slightly open. Too inviting for Spot to pass up.
Creeping slowly over to where Jack sat, he leaned in from across the bed and pressed his lips to Jack's softly. But enough to make Jack snap his eyes open and push Spot backward some. Frustrated, and upset, Spot stared at Jack in complete shock.
"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed, eyes blazing at Spot. Spot stared back before answering dumbly.
"Kissing you."
Jack clenched his jaw. "I see, feel, that. What I mean is why?"
"Why not? Is it suddenly a crime fer me ta kiss youse?" Spot asked, demanding an answer from Jack. Who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"No. But yesterday -
"I know what I'se said yesterday. But dat was why I was going ta Manhattan in da foist place. I'se wanted ta talk to ya. I'se wanted to apologize an' . . . I'se want things back to da way da could've been if ya hadn't left," Spot dropped his gaze and focused them on his hands briefly, before risking a glance back up at Jack.
Jack let a slow smile crawl across his face and he got up from his chair and sat down on the bed across from Spot. Putting a hand behind Spot's head, he pulled him down into a gentle, but loving kiss. One Spot gladly reciprocated, pressing his arching body up against Jack, forgetting entirely about the pain he had felt strongly just a few short moments before.
When the kiss ended, Spot pulled away a little and looked straight into Jack's eyes. "I love ya Jack," He said seriously, to which Jack's smile just got bigger.
"I know you do. And I love you too," He answered quietly.
Liking that answer a lot, Spot pulled Jack back into a passionate and powerful kiss. Jack responded, but stopped after he felt himself being pulled down onto the bed on top of Spot. Looking Spot in the eyes, questions swam on the edge of his dancing brown eyes. Spot grinned suggestively.
"Spot, your hurt. I'se don't want to hurt you anymore. Besides this probably isn't the best time to be doing this."
Spot shrugged and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck pulling him down so he could whisper.
"I know youse won't hurt me Jack. An' I'se been waitin fer dis a lot longer den youse 'ave. Ten years is long enough. If I'se don' get ya tonight I'se think I'll go insane," The smaller man said.
Jack chuckled from deep his throat and turned his eyes back down to the man he considered his best friend (and love of his life) and took in his features before producing a sexy smile of his own.
"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you now would I?" He said huskily and dropped another piercing kiss on Spot's ready lips.
Neither man was seen for the rest of the night.
* * *
A/N: I apologize tons for the lack of updating! I have been so freakin busy that. . .well, here's this part and hopefully I try and get the next part out sooner for you guys. Again, I apologize. Tremendously!
Special Thanks to:
kellyanne: I understand the whole being busy thing. . .it all catches up to you at once doesn't? We have Homecoming this week and, arrg. . . and thanks for the review. I appreciate it!
anUNDERCOVERnewsie: Seriously, kisses like that just don't seem to happen to people like me. Makes me sad. And I will keep writing! Thanks bunches!
TheCrazyUnknown: Don't send the crazy bird after me, please? * shy's away from reviewer * j/k, do whatever you want. I deserve it for not updating this dang thing earlier. And they so belong together, so I had to make that happen in this chapter.
SpotLover421: Spot always ruins the moment. . .jerk. J/K, I love Spot seriously, even if I torture him in most of my fics. And thanks for the review. Did you know your name is in my Microsoft word spelling check? Ha. I write it so much. . . but seriously I appreciate your loyalty!!!
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: Here's more! Anyways, I have to thank you for your loyalty too! I feel so spoiled by everyone. . . and thank you again for updating The Cowboy and The Gambler. I feel better now. LOL.
Sleet: Calm down! No more edges for you!! LOL. Anyways, thank you for the awesome compliments on my writing. * blushes slightly * So here's the next chapter, and be careful about those edges huh? I hear there dangerous. Jagged rocks below and all.
Spot bounced on the heels of his shoes as he waited - very impatiently - for the clock to move over to the "6" digit, signaling the time he figured Jack would be coming home (or to the lodging house) after work. In all his life, of all the years he'd wasted remembering Jack and wishing he had been there with him, of all the years he'd been on this earth, not one day had passed so slowly as this day was going. At least, not in his mind. Time only went slow when you wanted it to pass quickly and vice-versa.
Sighing, he went over to his desk and sat down in the old seat, his eyes trained - fixated - on the clock staring teasingly back at him. His newsies were wearily coming in by the handfuls, but he didn't notice there insistent chatter for once and made no move to quiet them down as the confining night's made them rowdier then they normally were. That is he didn't notice until he heard Jack's name pop up in one of the conversations being carried on all around him.
"So Kelly really is back?" One of them, Classical, one of the older newsies asked his best friend, the best fighter the Brooklyn boys had at the time, Cross-Match.
"Yeah, dat's what Burn told me dis mornin," He answered, sighing in next to Spot's desk.
"Damn. I'se t'ought dem were jist rumors. So, how's dat going ta work?" Classical asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Spot, unknowingly, leaned closer to hear there rapidly softening words.
"Don' know. But 'e said dat Spot didn't seem to upset wit seein Kelly again," Cross-Match shrugged innocently. Classical frowned.
"How's can 'e NOT be upset? If a guy's tried dat on me. . .well, I'se not sure if I'se would even let 'im live."
Spot froze as he realized what exactly they were discussing. He also grew angry quite fast. His own frown framing his face. Hadn't he told Burn to tell them that now of that was true and to not believe it? Instantly, his respect for the young newsie fell.
"Yeah, I'se know, same 'ere. In fact -
"Ya know, I'se right 'ere an' can hear everything yer sayin," Spot said, breaking up the conversation before it could get any further.
Both boys stiffened as they realized their beloved hero was talking to them with an icy edge behind his voice. They turned to Spot and tried smiling innocently. Exchanging glances quickly, Spot glared over at them, keeping his eyes on theirs, making sure to make them good and uncomfortable before speaking.
"An' I'se don' appreciate ya's talkin about me best friend dat way."
Again the boys turned to each other, there eyes growing big at what Spot had said. Spot continued to glare at them, seeing the unanswered questions lighting through their eyes.
"Yer. . .best friend?" Classical choked out. Voice cracking easily.
Spot nodded. "Jist because Brooklyn and Manhattan hate each other now don' mean we wasn't allies back den. Jack's a great guy. . .da best leadeah I'se eveah seen. Betteah den me even because 'is boys actually like 'im. Or did."
Neither newsie could even digest all of what Spot was telling them. "Youse mean. . .I mean ta say. . ."
Spot narrowed his eyes at them. " 'E didn't 'jump' me or nuthin if dat's what yer asking. 'E always 'ad a steady goil. More so den me even. An' I'se think it would be a good idea if ya's didn't talk like dat around me when it comes ta 'im."
They nodded vigorously and instantly headed up to the bunkrooms, shocked looks on their faces and whispering the moment they knew they were for sure out of Spot's hearing distance. Shaking his head in disgust, Spot turned his eyes back to the clock he'd been watching earlier and felt his anger melt away to the excitement and bouncy-ness he felt earlier.
To help pass the restless time, he remembered. Memories of the better times. Memories from as far back as ten years earlier when they had first met when Jack stumbled drunkenly onto Brooklyn territory. And memories as recent as the day before and the kiss he and Jack had shared sitting on the docks that morning. The kiss had been so familiar and loving and. . .everything Spot wanted. A slow smile crept across his face as he thought of the day Jack left. Bittersweet in it's own right of existence.
* * *
(Flashback)
Carefully, he raised his precious cowboy hat over his head and held it out to him. When he saw what Jack was doing his eyes went all big and he shook his head in protest.
"Jist take it."
"But I can't take dat Jack!"
"Yes you can. And you will. Besides, I can buy a dozen hats once I'm in the real west."
"I ain't got nuthin to give ya."
"Sure ya do. An I'se already gots it. Ya jist won't feel it's gone until I've left."
* * *
That had been completely, utterly true. As time had worn on, the reality of Jack's leaving had worn on him because his heart had left with the brown haired dreamer. And sometimes, it was damn hard to function with a heart. But somehow he had managed to do it. Though he wasn't going to have to anymore. Jack was back. For good. And just that thought made a large smile leap out onto his face. Almost as if he was trying to hard.
Focusing on the numbers by the clock once again, Spot felt his heartbeat begin to race as he saw that it was past time for him to go over to Manhattan to see Jack. Jumping to his feet quickly, he pushed past his desk just as Burn came strolling, soulfully, into the lodging house.
"Look after da kids fer a while would ya Burn?" He rushed, catching the young boy by the elbow. Burn furrowed his eyebrows in question, but seeing the almost desperate look on his leaders face, he nodded. From there Spot dashed out of the door as if the whole lodging house was on fire.
Walking briskly through the streets, he traveled the familiar path to the Brooklyn bridge, lost in his thoughts so totally that he didn't even notice the person he had bumped straight into. Looking up, he smiled sheepishly, tipped his hat to the taller, broader man and bowed slightly.
"Me apologizes sir, I'se wasn't watchin where I'se was going."
The man nodded, and Spot brushed past him on his way. That was, until the man called out to him. Freezing him to his place instantly.
"Too busy thinkin 'bout yer boyfriend coming back ta town was you?" The almost familiar voice asked him. Spinning, he looked at the man, whose face was lit only by the closest lamp light and the moon's various shadows. Squinting, Spot took a step closer to the dark figure.
"Do I'se know youse mistah?"
"Oh, I'se quite sure ya do Conlon."
He stepped into the full range of Spot's seeing distance, and Spot finally recognized them fully. And when he did, he let his surprise and shock fill his facial features fully. The man smirked openly at his formal leader's sudden lack of speech.
"What, no words for me Spot?" He sneered, stepping closer to the younger man.
"Wh - Rage, what are ya doing back in town?" He asked hesitantly, unsure of wither he could trust his former newsie. Or the smirk that was climbing across his face.
"Oh, that? Well, I'se heard a rumor dat Jacky-boy was back in town. An' by the da way youse actin, I'se gonna say youse already seen 'im."
Spot clenched his jaw and only nodded his head stiffly. "Dere somethin ya want Rage?"
Rage smirked and walked right up to Spot, uncaring, unafraid as he had been all those years earlier. "Not particularly. But, well, I'se was planning on going over ta Manhattan an'. . .I don' know, mess around with Jack fer awhile."
Spot's eyes darkened in anger and he finished off the distance between the two of them. "Don' youse dare touch Jack or I'se 'ill kill ya."
"Dat a threat Conlon?" Rage growled.
"No. Dat's a promise."
"Well, in dat case, youse betteah start praying."
The next thing Spot saw was total darkness.
* * *
Jack was staring to get really worried. Race had told him when he had gotten home that Spot had come over earlier in the morning to see what time Jack got off a work so he could tell him something. He'd been at the lodging house waiting since he'd gotten "home" at 6:30 and it was now approaching 10:00. He didn't want to seem out of whack, but he had a bad feeling about why Spot was late. And those thoughts were confirmed when Burn came bursting through the door shortly there after, a panicked look on his young face.
"Where's Splinter? I'se need ta tawk ta 'im," He said desperately, throwing his eyes all around the mostly empty Manhattan lodging house.
"Calm down kid. . .why do you need to see Splinter?" Jack asked, coming slowly out of the shadows were he had been watching the door just as desperately as Burn looked.
Burn cast his eyes over at the older man, apprehensive about being around the famous strike leader. The rumors still bothering him, but what Spot had said had eased most of that. Spot. The reason he was here. His hero, his legend, the very essence of the Brooklyn newsie was missing. And to say it lightly, Burn was freaking out.
"I'se. . .it's Spot. 'E's missing. 'E left da lodging house around 6:30 an' 'e hasn't been back since," Burn explained. He saw a flash of fear and horror in Jack's eyes before the man gained his composure and turned around to grab his coat.
Jack walked to the edge of the stairs and yelled up for Splinter to get down there. He slipped on his coat and turned back around to face the kid staring at him in confusion. Arching an eyebrow he just stared back.
"What? I'm coming with you to look for him."
"Wese don' need yer help," Burn growled out, turning his stare into a glare instantly.
Jack matched his glare and the kid actually snapped backward a little. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be. "I'se don' care if ya need my help or not. Spot's my friend. . .an' I'se coming with you." He said, his accent showing through in his angry and horrified state.
The two glared openly at each other, until Splinter was heard rushing down the stairs and came up to Jack, questions and respect shining in his eyes.
"What's going on? Burn? What'cha doing 'ere dis late at night?" He looked between the two people confused and lost.
"Spot's missing," Jack croaked out when he saw that Burn was going to make no move of actually speaking.
"So? What's it mattah ta me?" Splinter asked, shrugging.
Jack turned his eyes to Splinter, quite sure that they were blazing black at the young teen. Splinter's eyes widened at the furious expression gracing Jack's features. He took a small backward and watched as Manhattan's former leader grew in anger.
"So it doesn't matter to you. But it sure as hell mattah's ta me. Spot's me best friend," He said through clenched teeth.
Splinter's eyes gained in width and he just stared dumbly at Jack. "Are youse serious? I'se thought you two hated each other?"
"Well, wese don'. No put on a coat 'er somethin an' get yer ass out da door cause yer officially gonna help me an' Burn find 'im," Jack whispered venom filling his mouth as he spat out the edgy words.
Splinter nodded in return, grabbed a thin jacket and headed out the door into the chilly, nighttime Manhattan air. Burn and Jack following closely at his heels.
* * *
(An hour and a half later, on the Brooklyn side of the bridge)
"Wese been 'ere already ya dumbass," Splinter yelled when Burn led the trio into a section on Brooklyn they had already searched. Both newsies were well beyond fed-up while Jack was letting different ideas and thoughts flow through his mind. Which gave him something to focus on rather than the mind numbing fear about what may have possibly happened to Spot.
As the two boys stood in the night screaming at each other in anger and weariness, Jack remembered that Spot normally took a different route when going to the bridge then everyone else took. His dark eyes swirled around the darkness quickly, calculating in his mind just what part of the town they were in. From there he decided they weren't far from Spot's normal walking path. Spinning around, he shut both boys up with an ear splitting whistle which echoed through the abandoned street.
"What was dat fer?" Burn asked, his nerves and patience wearing ridiculously thin.
"It was to shut you two up. I might know how we can find him. He used to take a totally different way to the bridge then everyone else. A path more along the alleys and docks. So if he's hurt or something, he's probably in those areas," Jack explained quickly to the teens.
"An' how do ya know all dat?" Burn again asked, still not trusting Jack a hundred percent despite Spot's words.
"Because we'd walk that way sometimes," Jack countered, eyes boring into the kid in front of him, a steely glare covering his face and masking his emotions.
"Well, lead on Jack. . .I'se don' want ta be out 'ere fer da rest of da night ya know," Splinter forcefully said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from going numb.
And Jack did just that. Leading them through the dark twist of the familiar path Spot would take him on during there leader talks over in Brooklyn. Back then, Jack had always enjoyed the strolls, it was a nice change of scenery. But now it was just as dark, scary and frustrating as anything else would be at that moment. He walked faster then he should have. Until he turned down one of the corners and was struck with what looked like a human body lying on it's side by a lamppost.
The body wasn't moving.
The other two seemed to realize it the same moment Jack did and all three sprinted the rest of the short distance to the side of the person. Rolling the person over, Jack instantly recognized him as Spot. A bit bloody and beaten, but with the same boyishly handsome features Spot possessed.
Leaning over, Spot's slight body he, smacked him gently on the sides of his face a few times. When that failed to wake him, he calmed his nerves and told Splinter to go and get some water from the nearby dock. He barely returned with the water, before Jack was pouring some of it onto the unconscious ex-Brooklyn leader. This time his choice worked and Spot coughed out some of the water, but opened his eyes only briefly before dropping them again and choked a little.
"Jack? I'se cold," He managed to weakly say before falling back down to the street level.
Jack hurriedly scooped the much smaller man into his outstretched arms and held his trembling body close to his. Instinctively, Spot flung his arms around Jack's neck and shivered. Jack motioned with his head for Burn to lead them back to the Brooklyn lodging house. Without any questions asked, or any protests made, the silent quartet made there way to the warm, well lit bunks.
The Brooklyn newsies crowded around the door with panic and fear in there eyes when they saw the expression on there leaders face. Splinter followed him with Jack close behind with Spot still shivering, wet and bleeding in his strong arms. They turned their concerned eyes from their hero to the strange older man they'd never seen before. Burn waved them off slightly, a promise of an explanation later in his movements and eyes.
Jack layied Spot gently down onto Spot's bed and immediately took off his jacket, and turned on the light so he could assess the damage down to his friend. Splinter was standing in the doorway, ready to take out any orders and Burn was inside the room, confusion and watching Spot lay on the bed.
Sighing, Jack turned to Splinter first. "Could you go and get me some warm water and wash rag or something?"
"Sure t'ing Jack," He said and went off in the direction of the washroom in search for the needed supplies.
"And you. Take off his shirt," He said to Burn as he rolled up his white sleeves. Burn stared at him as if he had just asked him to jump off the Brooklyn bridge.
"Are youse kiddin? Spot'll kill me if I'se take off 'is shirt!" He said in horror. Jack rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed and began to undo the shirt himself. To which he was stopped instantly by Burn who was glaring at him fiercely.
"Dat don' mean youse can either," He growled menacingly at Jack.
"Too bad. Because I am," He said snapping his wrist out of Burn's grip and finishing his job, and softly, with barely a touch, removed Spot's damp shirt. Bruises were beginning to form all over his chest and stomach. The discolored skin was enough to make Jack sick to his stomach.
Splinter came skidding into the room with the water and wash rag, which Jack took with a thanking smile. He dipped the rag in, wrung it out and pulled up a chair next to the bed, dabbing the rag on gently, and cleaning off the cuts on Spot's pale face.
Spot woke up again as Jack began to, as gently as he could, clean off a sliced cut on his cheekbone. Spot hissed at the pain and flew his eyes open, only to come face to face with Jack's eyes staring intently down at him.
" 'Ay Jacky-boy, what'cha doing 'ere?" He asked in attempted humor, which only got him a glare from the larger man looming just above him. He backed off and let Jack continue what he was doing.
It was then that he noticed the other two faces in the room. Burn was concerned and glaring slightly at Jack. Splinter, who was again leaning on the doorway, was watching the scene with an impassive look on his young face. Glancing back at Jack, he smiled inwardly.
"Can you two do me a favoah an leave me and Kelly alone fer awhile," Spot asked, though his undertone was demanding and left no room for argument.
Reluctantly the teens left, shutting the large door behind them. Licking his lips, (which he instantly regretted doing because his lip was cut) Spot looked up at Jack's face, concentrating on cleaning his battle wounds.
"Jack? I -
"What happened?" Jack cut him off.
"I'se ran inta Rage on me way ta Manhattan."
Jack arched an eyebrow and stopped his work and looked down at Spot's face fully for the first time.
"And?"
"AN' wese 'ad a fight," Spot elaborated.
"Which obviously wasn't a very smart decision," Jack lamented, and brought his hand back up to clean off the final cut on Spot's face, right by his bottom lip.
"Well, youse should Rage is ya's think dis is bad," Spot said, laughing uneasily. Jack unfortunately knew him well enough to see through him. He dropped the used wash rag into the water and traced his eyes down Spot's bruised body.
"Don't be stupid Spot. You're not invincible ya know," Jack said seriously. Spot frowned at Jack's words.
"What'da mean?"
"I mean I don't want you making any rushed decisions. It took Burn, Splinter and me and hour and a half to find you, and it only took that little of time because I remembered that you used the different way to go to the bridge," Jack said, his voice on the edge.
"So sorry yer highness. Next time I'se won't cause ya as much trouble. I'se 'ill jist die instead," Spot mumbled.
Jack's eyes grew cloudy and he looked down at Spot intently. "Don't even joke around like that. If you died - just be careful huh?" His voice had started serious and ended softly.
Spot softened and nodded his head to show that he understood. Jack leaned back in the chair he was sitting in near Spot's bed. Spot sat up and watched as Jack closed his eyes tiredly. He looked beat. Worn down and a hundred other sayings for weary and half dead from the tired. He was fascinated by the way Jack's chest moved up and down so perfectly in-sync with shallow breathing. Both hands were resting on his lap and his lips were slightly open. Too inviting for Spot to pass up.
Creeping slowly over to where Jack sat, he leaned in from across the bed and pressed his lips to Jack's softly. But enough to make Jack snap his eyes open and push Spot backward some. Frustrated, and upset, Spot stared at Jack in complete shock.
"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed, eyes blazing at Spot. Spot stared back before answering dumbly.
"Kissing you."
Jack clenched his jaw. "I see, feel, that. What I mean is why?"
"Why not? Is it suddenly a crime fer me ta kiss youse?" Spot asked, demanding an answer from Jack. Who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"No. But yesterday -
"I know what I'se said yesterday. But dat was why I was going ta Manhattan in da foist place. I'se wanted ta talk to ya. I'se wanted to apologize an' . . . I'se want things back to da way da could've been if ya hadn't left," Spot dropped his gaze and focused them on his hands briefly, before risking a glance back up at Jack.
Jack let a slow smile crawl across his face and he got up from his chair and sat down on the bed across from Spot. Putting a hand behind Spot's head, he pulled him down into a gentle, but loving kiss. One Spot gladly reciprocated, pressing his arching body up against Jack, forgetting entirely about the pain he had felt strongly just a few short moments before.
When the kiss ended, Spot pulled away a little and looked straight into Jack's eyes. "I love ya Jack," He said seriously, to which Jack's smile just got bigger.
"I know you do. And I love you too," He answered quietly.
Liking that answer a lot, Spot pulled Jack back into a passionate and powerful kiss. Jack responded, but stopped after he felt himself being pulled down onto the bed on top of Spot. Looking Spot in the eyes, questions swam on the edge of his dancing brown eyes. Spot grinned suggestively.
"Spot, your hurt. I'se don't want to hurt you anymore. Besides this probably isn't the best time to be doing this."
Spot shrugged and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck pulling him down so he could whisper.
"I know youse won't hurt me Jack. An' I'se been waitin fer dis a lot longer den youse 'ave. Ten years is long enough. If I'se don' get ya tonight I'se think I'll go insane," The smaller man said.
Jack chuckled from deep his throat and turned his eyes back down to the man he considered his best friend (and love of his life) and took in his features before producing a sexy smile of his own.
"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you now would I?" He said huskily and dropped another piercing kiss on Spot's ready lips.
Neither man was seen for the rest of the night.
* * *
A/N: I apologize tons for the lack of updating! I have been so freakin busy that. . .well, here's this part and hopefully I try and get the next part out sooner for you guys. Again, I apologize. Tremendously!
Special Thanks to:
kellyanne: I understand the whole being busy thing. . .it all catches up to you at once doesn't? We have Homecoming this week and, arrg. . . and thanks for the review. I appreciate it!
anUNDERCOVERnewsie: Seriously, kisses like that just don't seem to happen to people like me. Makes me sad. And I will keep writing! Thanks bunches!
TheCrazyUnknown: Don't send the crazy bird after me, please? * shy's away from reviewer * j/k, do whatever you want. I deserve it for not updating this dang thing earlier. And they so belong together, so I had to make that happen in this chapter.
SpotLover421: Spot always ruins the moment. . .jerk. J/K, I love Spot seriously, even if I torture him in most of my fics. And thanks for the review. Did you know your name is in my Microsoft word spelling check? Ha. I write it so much. . . but seriously I appreciate your loyalty!!!
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: Here's more! Anyways, I have to thank you for your loyalty too! I feel so spoiled by everyone. . . and thank you again for updating The Cowboy and The Gambler. I feel better now. LOL.
Sleet: Calm down! No more edges for you!! LOL. Anyways, thank you for the awesome compliments on my writing. * blushes slightly * So here's the next chapter, and be careful about those edges huh? I hear there dangerous. Jagged rocks below and all.