Disclaimer: -heavy breathing- I swear I only owned the Newsies franchise for thirteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds! Please don't strike me again! Wow…

A/N: I apologize heavily for the wait. Will not happen again. I have been unimaginably busy with practice for my play…opening night is nine days away. I love you all who have reviewed so far, and I hope that this chappie doesn't disappoint.

Someday My Ship Will Come In

Chapter 4 "Tactful Navigation"

By: The.Pelvic.Thrust (Only Ink.)

"Did I miss 'er?"

"Yeah…she came by 'bout half hour ago."

"Damn…" Spot mumbled, as he shoved his hands into his pockets and strode solemnly down the fire escape of the lodging house and toward Finn who was currently hoisting himself out of the harbor and onto one of the lower docks. Kicking defiantly at a knothole in the abrasive wood, Spot waited expectantly for Finn to approach him.

"Hey, don't worry about it…ya only had…like, what? Two conversations…it ain't nothin' ta get all angry for." Finn gave him a small smile before viciously shaking the water out of his tousled hair, and then leaning against a thick wooden pole a few feet from the King of Brooklyn himself.

Spot looked unnaturally composed as he calmly slid the worn slingshot from one of his pockets. "I need ta break somethin'…"

Finn stared at the slingshot…then at Spot…and then back at the slingshot. "Bottlecap!"

"What, Finn?" A mousy boy in his early teens hollered in return, as he lowered a half-empty beer bottle from his lips and shifted his gaze to the caller at the opposite end of the dock.

"Spot wants ta break somethin'!"

Bottlecap promptly nodded and placed his bottle on the barrel next to him, stepping several feet back. He barely flinched when the aforementioned bottle was skillfully shattered mere seconds later by a whizzing marble.

"Thanks, I needed that." Spot lowered the slingshot and let out a shallow breath, rotating his body so that he was facing Finn again.

"Hey, it's what I'm heah for," He replied, clapping Spot twice on the back with a wet hand and grinning before taking a running leap back into the water. A large splash echoed through the afternoon, the scene engulfed in laughter…save one lone figure wandering up the front steps of the lodging house, red suspenders sulking at his sides.

---

"Hot day ain't it?"

"Nah. Ain't too bad."

"That was unexpected." Finn raised his eyebrows and chuckled at the smirking individual slouching next to him atop his throne of crates and barrels.

"Thought I would mix it up a bit." Spot's eyes were slightly glazed over and he looked as though he hadn't blinked in ages, as if he was afraid that he would miss Brigitte if he dared to close his eyes.

"Here she comes…" Finn muttered after several minutes of silence, eyeing a white sun hat atop a head of fiery curls in the distance and turning to face Spot…no one was there. He shook his head and smiled as he saw a flash of red suspenders and their owner descend the ladder of the perch.

His timing wasn't quite right today considering that by the time he had walked about half the length of the docks, Brigitte had already reached the point where the docks and the road met, waved at him, and continued walking. Spot muttered a short string of expletives under his breath before breaking into a casual jog and joining her along the road several moments later.

"May I help you?"

"Thought ya might like some company." Spot breathed, smiling slightly and glancing tentatively at Brigitte who attempted to hide a smile of her own by staring determinedly at the road ahead.

"Are you planning on making this a habit, Mr. Conlon?"

"What would make ya think that, Miss Brady?"

"I-I just don't think it's a good idea." Her eyes traveled from the stately street ahead to her boots and she frowned slightly, chewing apprehensively on the corner of her bottom lip. Spot watched the change in her demeanor and faltered slightly. Was this what rejection felt like? What a new concept. He wanted to say something, something sarcastic…witty…biting, anything to possibly make her take back her previous statement.

"Oh." For once, the great Spot Conlon could not think of a non-monosyllabic thing to say, and it completely threw him off. He tugged absentmindedly at one of his belt loops, squinting through the sun at the scuffed toes of his shoes.

"What?" Brigitte inquired suddenly…obviously she had been taken aback by his reaction as well.

"Not a good idea…what's that supposed ta mean?" He muttered in reply, removing his hat and shoving it unceremoniously into his back pocket. The question was clearly an accusation and was followed by a good few moments of awkward silence before Brigitte fiddled with the burgundy bow securing her sun hat to her head and coughed quietly.

"Well…for all I know, you could be a thief…or-or a stalker…or married or something…" she stuttered hastily, alternating between nervously glancing at Spot and her feet.

Spot let out a relieved breath and a trace of the classic Conlon smirk graced his lips as he locked his eyes on hers. "To stop your suspicions…I'm only a thief on Tuesdays, stalkin' surprisingly ain't my hobby of choice, and about bein' married…just no." It was his turn to be stunned as she threw her head back and let out the most incredible jovial laughter he had ever heard. It reminded him of the first time he had seen her laugh like that; it had been almost a week since that afternoon in the restaurant uptown. "Wait-why do you care about me bein' married?" He questioned cheekily.

"I don't."

"Really now?"

"Yes. I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like you, Spot Conlon."

"Ya should be thankful fer that." He slid his suspenders off of his shoulders and let them rest at his sides, contemplating where to go from there. "I want you ta know that I ain't looking fer nothin'…I just wanna keep you company and maybe get ta know ya better." Okay…so it was a half lie, he was looking for something, but he wasn't going to push his luck just when she was beginning to trust him.

Brigitte tinged pink as one corner of her lips tugged upwards. "I guess I could deal with that. I'm afraid that you'll find my life rather dull. I have nothing going on that would be of any interest to anyone." She smiled serenely, picking up her heels and leading the way down a familiar street which brought them only several minutes away from her home. The dismal smoke from the factories by the harbor contrasted against the tranquil treetops, dusting the clear afternoon sky with its darkness.

"Oh c'mon…what are ya talkin' about? I'm sure you're learnin' something in that big, fancy academy 'a yours."

"Well…let's see. Right now, I'm taking History, Poetry, Advanced Writing, and Mathematics."

"That's easy enough. History is just about a bunch 'a old dead guys takin' land from each other. Poetry is a whole lot 'a rhyming words…writin' is like talkin'…'cept not really. An' math is a bunch 'a numbers and shapes and stuff." As Spot finished, he looked over at Brigitte with an innocent expression that obviously spoke of his pride at his earlier statements.

"How very profound of you Mr. Conlon. I'm afraid that there's a bit more to it than that."

"Teach me." Time seemed to slow to the pace of a slumbering heart beat as he locked his eyes on hers, Brigitte's expression matching his as he turned serious all of a sudden. The silence was deafening and unbearable, yet intoxicating and addicting. The longer it spanned, the more it begged to be broken yet at the same time yearned to keep its soundless perfection.

Brigitte opened her mouth as if she was going to reply, before she blinked her eyes quickly, realizing that they had stopped a few feet from her front yard. "We're here…" she managed lamely, fiddling with the leather schoolbooks in her arms and glancing back up at his expression which hadn't changed. "I've got etiquette class in a few minutes, but I'll tell you what. Every time I tell you something about me, you have to teach me something about the Great Spot Conlon, okay?" She smiled quickly and began to stroll up the front path.

"Like what? I'll tell ya now, there ain't nothin' interesting about me. I eat, sleep, and sell newspapers." He called up to her, mirroring her amused expression.

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before coming to a definite decision. "The harbor. I want to see the harbor like you see it. I have no school tomorrow, so I'll meet you at the docks around noon." Brigitte gave him a final wave before disappearing through the front door. Spot's eyes traveled once more over the immaculately cut lawn and flawless shrubs dotting the sea of grass, before he decidedly retrieved a cigarette from his back pocket.

As he began his return journey to the lodging house with the ignited cigarette resting between his lips, he contemplated her words. I want to see the harbor like you see it. Running both hands through his hair, Spot rounded a corner and began to wonder how exactly he did see the harbor. He had never really thought about it before. It was just…his home…

---

Several timid knocks echoed through the small hotel room causing an unshaven boy of about nineteen to look up from the paper and pen in front of him and glare challengingly at the door. "Whaddya want?" he slurred loudly, his strong Brooklyn drawl combined with a subdued state of drunkenness melding the various syllables together.

"It's me." The hushed tone was eager on the other side as the handle twitched back and forth, rusted lock holding fast.

"Nah…it ain't me. I ain't out there…"

"Shut it ya drunken bastard an' let me in!"

"Now I definitely ain't lettin' ya in…" His voice trailed off slowly as he reached for the chipped bottle next to his elbow, took a long swig, and dropped his head to the desk top.

There was a deep sigh from the other side and several quick clicking noises as the knob shuddered furiously. Finally, the door jerked open, shaking in its frame as it hit one wall of the room and revealed a beanpole of a boy who strolled forward smirking and wielding a pocket knife. "They don't call me Lock fer nothin'…" he bragged, slamming the door behind him. This caused the lazy figure in the chair to jolt up and blink profusely as he swatted at the air in a motion to attempt to make the noise go away.

"Go away…"

"C'mon, Flash…this is just gettin' old." Lock chided, picking up the bottle and tossing it effortlessly out one of the open windows, hardly flinching as it crashed to the ground several stories below. "It's been over two years now…"

Flash's charcoal eyes smoldered with a mixture of hatred and anger, seeming to singe the wall ahead with the thought of the haunting memories. "It ain't my fault that Brooklyn's full 'a dishonest bastards who worship whatever dumbass can climb a ladder an' sit on a platform."

"You're bitter…" remarked Lock lazily as he chewed at the nail of his middle finger and shuffled through the papers on Flash's desk with his free hand. "You ain't really in a place ta complain. Yer the one who screwed all of 'em over…"

"I ain't in the mood fer this."

"I got somethin' ta tell you that'll change yer mind…"

Flash raised his eyebrows at this. "Keep talkin' an' maybe I'll listen."

Lock flashed a toothy smile before continuing with growing vigor. "Spot ain't gonna be by the docks all day tomorrow…I heard Bottlecap an' Flash talkin'. Looks like he's goin' out fer the day or somethin'."

At the mention of Spot, Flash tensed and ground his teeth in disgust. "So?" he spat, crossing his arms menacingly over his broad chest as he leaned back in his chair.

"So…" Lock began, faltering slightly, "I think it's about time you paid Brooklyn a little visit."

"An' why the hell would I want to do that?"

The harshness of his tone caused Lock to cower slightly before answering tentatively. "Spot's the only one who ain't afraid of you. With him gone..."

Flash raised a fist as if he was about to render some part of Lock's body functionless, and then broke into a grin before clapping him roughly on the back. "Yer right. It's time I paid my boys a visit…"

A/N: I apologize again for the wait and I really hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Please do not hesitate to review and tell me what you think of Flash and Lock or the Spot and Brigitte scene. Honestly, I can only write with your input! I adore you all incredibly.