Disclaimer: anything you recognize in this story belongs to Disney. Disney makes money off it. Anything you don't recognize is mine, and, unfortunately, I don't.

As usual, Brooklyn made an entrance. They were the last to arrive, only a few stragglers were still milling around outside. Spot and his boys entered Irving Hall to the sound of yelling and whistling. The King of Brooklyn nodded regally as he strode through the crowd, Pocket at his side. She let him guide her threw the noisy throng, ignoring the curious looks directed her way. Her hand grasped his tightly as she hid her discomfort.

Pocket was used to being invisible. Her inherent ability to go unnoticed was a hold over from her years spent sneaking and stealing to survive. Now, simply by standing next to Spot Conlon, she found herself the center of attention. Word had spread quickly that the Brooklyn leader had a girl with him. Her attendance alone was telling in its significance. Though he had quite a reputation as a ladies man, Spot was widely known to never mix business with pleasure. And this rally, however enjoyable, was most definitely business. Any girl at his side during such an event was surely worth notice; if only they knew who she was.

Despite her natural tendency to fade into the background, Pocket was no stranger to the boys of the other boroughs. In fact, she knew almost every newsie in New York by name. She listened in amusement as they nudged each other, whispering guesses about her identity, for nobody recognized her in her borrowed clothes.

The Manhattaners caught on first but found it amusing to keep up the charade. They fell over themselves to offer their company as Spot took the stage with Jack and David, but she waved them off and went to join some of the boys from the Bronx. Lucky, the leader, recognized her immediately, motioning her to sit beside him.

"Heya, Pocket," he greeted her.

Those closest to him heard her name and gave her startled looks before scattering into the crowd. The discovery rippled through the hall even as a couple of Harlem kids approached the table. They both eyed her with interest, and she fought back a grin, remembering a card game last week where she had relieved both boys of about a week's wages. Oblivious, they pestered Lucky for an introduction.

"Oh, you know Pocket," he laughed at their stunned faces. "She's the Queen of Brooklyn."

The rally started out well. Pocket watched proudly as Spot argued with Jack and David up on stage. She grinned at the way the whole hall fell silent whenever her spoke, all the boys hanging on his words. Beside her Lucky watched carefully, more than one leader in the room was waiting to see what Spot decided. Only Pocket knew that the decision was already made. Spot had decided he would join, but his arguments onstage were not without purpose. He knew that the other boroughs needed a public agreement between Brooklyn and Manhattan, they needed to see that Spot Conlon supported Jack Kelly every step of the way. With the full power of Brooklyn behind him, Jack had no doubt the others would fall in line.

When the speeches where over, Pocket and Lucky conferred briefly as Medda came onstage, then spit on their hands to cement the alliance as the Lucky added his own support. She made her way over to Spot's table as the Swedish Meadowlark began to sing, but she was quickly dragged off to dance by the younger newsies.

Spot was sitting at a table watching her when David tapped his arm and pointed to Snyder. A bolt of fear shot through him when the police stormed in. He jumped up from his seat to fight his way through the crowd, trying to reach her. There were too many people blocking his way. He saw her pushing through the tangle of people, dragging a couple of the younger newsies to the exit. All around him kids were scattering in panic, rushing for the doors, and he lost sight of her.

Saying a silent prayer that she'd get out, Spot hurried into the lobby to find his boys. He found Fiver near the doors.

"Go!" he ordered. "Get out! Find the boys and get out! Head straight back to Brooky."

His second in command shook his head frantically. "Can't!" he shouted, pointing outside. "Look!"

The scene on the street was worse than inside. Mounted police and cops on foot chased the newsies, grabbing them and throwing them into the paddy wagon. Spot watched as Jack and Blink tried to find an opening in the circle of horses. He winced as he saw Blink take a club to the head and crumple to the ground.

"Spot!"

A voice behind him made him whirl around. Pocket stood there, red-faced and panting, but totally calm. She launched herself at him and he grabbed her tight.

"They got Race," she shouted. "And Skittery, and Bumlets. Specs and Dutchy too." She rattled off the names of the Manhattan newsies who'd been caught.

"Blink too," he told her regretfully.

The noise in the hall grew even louder as the Crips started pouring in, laughing cruelly as they pounded the kids in their way.

"We gotta go," Spot yelled. "C'mon, we'll go out the back." He started pulling her along but Pocket wouldn't move.

She stood frozen, staring over his shoulder. He turned just in time to see Jack carried away. He swore viciously, and Pocket jumped. She started forward, straining to reach Jack, but Spot held her back.

"Don't," he said. "Ya can't do nothin'. We gotta get out now."

She nodded softly, turning with one last look at Jack as he was carried out the door. Her face was set, calm – a perfect match for his own blank mask. Like him, she kept cool in the midst of all the chaos, they both knew that they needed to think clearly, calmly.

Spot saw the exact moment her calm shattered.

With a cry of rage she tore her arm free of his grasp and threw herself at Oscar Delancey, who was dragging an unconscious Slips across the carpet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, using her weight to topple him over. Spot jumped forward, but didn't reach her in time to stop Oscar from landing a blow to the side of her face. Her head rocked back with the force of the punch, and Spot saw red.

Roaring with fury, he fell upon the unlucky Delancey, raining blows with his fists and cane. He was so intent on his target that he didn't see the officer approaching behind him. Pocket called out a warning just before strong hands yanked him up, pinning his arms behind his back.

Kicking and struggling, he fought to break free as the policeman half-dragged, half –carried him out the door. His last glimpse of Pocket saw cornered by Morris Delancey, biting and scratching as he trapped her next to the limp form of his brother.

Spot cursed and spat as they forced him into the wagon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw David running from one boy to another, unable to help any of them.

"Mouth!" Spot screamed as the doors clanged shut. David looked up at him, eyes wild.

"Pocket!" Spot yelled as the wagon started to pull away. "She's inside. Find Pocket!"

The last thing he saw when the wagon turned the corner was David's determined nod.