Sparks-Yes, I agree; they are bastards. Once again your reviews make me feel all too special lol.

Twilight-Thanks for the review! You are awesome!! So cool to have someone else actually NOTICE my writing!

Angelfish-I kid you not lol. Lucky for you, I have been in a total writing concentration mode for the last few days! Yay, Spot is on his way back!!

A/N: I find it particularly odd that I have kept writing despite the lack of reviews I have received (nothing at all against the 3 awesome people mentioned above!). Perhaps it is because it is my first story on Maybe there are people out there that read but don't review? I don't know. But if you are, you know what to do! I want to study English in college and have some form of writing career; the only way I can actually be a good writer is if I get REVIEWS!! As a sophomore in high school, I have 2.5 years until college...woohoo! Can't wait!! SO, with that, let's continue on with the winding down story that is my first published work. Have fun!!

P.S. I'm watching Newsies this very moment! Maybe I'll get some inspiration from the dancing boys on my television screen.

Ragged breaths had been coming from Bolt's mouth all day, along with the occasional, sharp cough. He had been in his bed, safely tucked in, ever since Spot and Thompson carried him up there. His face was washed free from the blood and dirt, showing clearly the torture he had endured. Sitting upon an uncomfortable chair next to Bolt's nightstand, Spot had placed his arm and head on the dusty wooden surface. Sought-after sleep caught up with him, and while his two friends rested in their bunks, Spot snoozed on his makeshift bed. It was a rough morning, to say the least. When they crept in at dawn, the newsboys had been emerging for the day, causing them to answer an endless amount of questions and dodging several.

Now the sun had made its way to the center of the sky and its rays shone brightly into the window. The room in which the boys resided in was deserted with the exception of Brooklyn's finest, two-thirds of which struggled to hold on to life.

With an aching head and tingling arm, Spot lifted his head blearily to see the bright blue sky in front of him. On the fire escape, standing so innocently was a white dove. Spot blinked. Although he had seen his fair share of doves in his life, the timing was perfect and on cue. He stood up and cracked the window slightly, allowing some fresh air to run through the room. It had become quite stuffy in there. The soft afternoon breeze swept into the room and into the lungs of its occupants. A coughing sound came from Bolt's bunk and Spot immediately turned to look at him. Bolt was tossing and turning, his hand on his chest while he coughed. He blinked slowly the one eye that could see, since the other was being masked by a swelled bruise. Spot watched intently to see if he would stay awake or drift right back into sleep. A few more blinks, and Bolt's eyes opened completely, staring up at his best friend. Neither of them said anything. Spot positioned the chair to face the bed.

Spot cleared his throat and prepared to say something, but did not get it out. He set his elbows atop his knees and looked at the ground.

"Hey," Bolt broke the silence in an abrasive and weak voice.

"Welcome back." Spot lifted his head and stared at him.

"Thanks."

He grabbed the cup of water from the nightstand and put it in Bolt's discolored hand. Bolt downed the water in a few gulps and handed it back to him.

"Feels good to be alive," Bolt said, almost sarcastically.

"Yeah." Spot explored his tense mind for words. An apology would be good to start with. "Bolt-"

"I know," Bolt stopped. "I ain't lookin' for you to get all mushy on me, Conlon." He pushed himself up to place his back against his pillow. "You know I know what you wanna say."

"Yeah."

"I can't, fer the life of me, though, figure out how this guy made ya go crazy. We all know 'bout what happened a few years back, but I always thought you'd recover. Didn't know you'd act like this."

Spot rubbed the back of his neck. "I...I really don't know what to say-"

"I know. Shut up before ya start sheddin' some tears. Brooklyn boys don't cry." Bolt gave a quick punch to Spot's arm.

Spot was amazed at how now matter how battered Bolt was, his mind would never be in the same shape as his body.

"Was it bad?"

"Well..."

"How bad was it?"

"Okay, real bad. They were huge. Bigger than we was expecting. I mean, we knew it'd be rough over there since we've been there before, but it was totally different with Pierce runnin' the show. At least with the other leader there were some rules, but Pierce has got his hands full ovah there. As soon as we got there we had to fight off some younger ones. Took us forever to actually talk to Pierce. When we did, there must have been ten guys surrounding us. He said he'd rather talk to me and Thompson, then Johnny and Glover. I didn't understand at first, but I knew it wasn't a good idea. I tried tellin' them to stay with us, but they shoved 'em to another room. Whenever we tried talkin' to Pierce seriously, he'd blow it off and say he'd stop with his shit. Thompson tried speakin' up and told him it had to stop now, or else."

Spot winced. Not a good idea on Thompson's part.

"So, one of his guys went up behind Thompson and started ta strangle him. Thompson tried fightin' him off, but I knew he couldn't do it. So, I broke them up and started punchin' the other guy. While I was doin' that, another came up and knocked me out cold. I blacked out."

Spot rubbed the temples of his beating forehead. From what he was hearing, his boys were acting very un-Brooklyn-like. Was it because Spot had not gone through with the trip to the Bronx?

"I don't know what we was thinking..."

"I should've been there. I should've stopped you guys at the bridge."

"Yeah," Bolt agreed honestly.

"It ain't about you, or the Bronx, or Brooklyn, fer that matter. It's me and PJ."

Bolt stared at him and coughed a few times. Spot placed his hand on Bolt's shoulder.

"He'll get what's comin' to him, Bolt," he told him firmly. "Don't worry."

"Spot, I wouldn't go after him."

"Bolt-"

"Spot, you know I would tell ya the truth. And the truth is that if you go after him, he will kill you. I can guarantee that. We almost died over there and I don't even wanna know what happened to Johnny and Glover. For as strong and fearless and all that other shit, he's ten times better. Conlon, I know you got a reputation to uphold, but do not go to the Bronx yourself. All right?"

Spot was stunned. It must have been that bad with a warning like that. "All right."

In some ways, he had lied to Bolt. He was not going to go the Bronx. But he knew precisely what to do. It simply had to be done, and Spot Conlon was going to do it.