For Brooklyn 2

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Five: Yes, Brother. My Brother.

Summary: Spot is being forced to leave New York, but how will Brooklyn take it? How will Red...? One thing is for sure though. No one is going to let him go without a fight. (Sequel to For Brooklyn)

Disclaimer: No. I. Do. Not. OWN. Blah.

A/n: SECOND half of my first Newsie fic. -smile-

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"You don't get it, do you? Spot isn't just a newsie of Brooklyn. He is Brooklyn. He is the air that you breathe, the ground under your feet, the sky above your head, everything you see he has bled to protect, and you will, BY GOD, SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT!" - Red.

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The newsboys woke at dawn, a few of them blinking sleep from their eyes and wondering what had woken them. Jack moved closer to the window and shushed them all. When all was so silent you could hear a pin drop, they heard it.

Soft singing. Soft, heartbroken singing.

Frowning, Jack stuck his head out of the window and looked up, eyes widening. 'What...did he stay out there all night...?'

Race sat on the roof, legs curled to his chest, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. His head was thrown back as he sang, unaware that he had an audience, unaware he was letting all his secrets, his hopes, his dreams, and his fears be known.

The light from the rising sun cast shadows across his face, giving him the appearance of someone far older than just eighteen. There was maturity in that visage, a weariness that one only got when they had reached the end of their rope and could go no further. He had seen that look before.

In Spot Conlon.

The two boys were at their snapping point, the do it or die. If they failed, turned the wrong way, if a single step was taken wrong...it was over for them. They would fall, all the way back down to the bottom. And there they would stay, for neither had the strength to pull themselves back up.

Not on their own anyway.

Pulling his head back in the window, Jack shook his head. "Go back to sleep." He told the others, but he knew that would be near to impossible.

Not with a lost soul singing his heart out right above their heads. A ballad of forgotten hope, forgotten dreams, lost love, and something that was hidden to all but those who knew how to look. At that note Red sat up in his bed, heart thumping.

Race was saying good-bye.

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Race got to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the roof top. The wind ruffled his bangs and he took a step toward the edge, feeling the cool air rush over him. If he jumped, would he fly? Or would he plummet toward the earth?

Only one way to find out.

Closing his eyes, Race took that last precarious step, the roof vanishing from under him as he fell. This was all right, this was fine. It was better this way. He wouldn't hurt anyone...or be hurt. He wouldn't bother any one or be bothered. This was it, the end of the rope, the end of it all.

He waited for the bone crushing impact, the flash of pain and then the nothingness that would come with death. Would he end up in Hell? Probably. Heaven wouldn't want him.

No one wanted him.

Race tipped his head back and opened his arms. He briefly wondered if you really did see a white tunnel at the end, but someone caught him before he could find out.

He crashed into a chest, knocking whoever it was on their back, hard. Fingers dug into his arms and he blinked down at who had saved him from his suicidal jump. He sucked in a shocked gasp.

"Coward." Spot hissed.

"S-Spot..." He gulped, "I thought you...what are you doing here...?"

Spot pushed him off and sat up, "You're nothing but a coward!" He snapped, each word digging hard into the other newsie. "Death solves NOTHING."

"But..." He looked down at his shaking hands. "But I...don't want to stay here...anymore..."

Spot looked at him in surprise, recognizing his own thoughts and feelings. He had to fight down a shiver. If that had been him up there, would he have jumped too? If he had a way to die, would he have taken it?

He didnt have an answer, and that was what scared him.

"Race...forgive me."

The elder's eyes snapped up. The leader of Brooklyn was apologizing...to him! "What...for...?" He whispered, still sitting on the concrete. His legs wouldn't move, wouldn't support him.

He knew what for.

Spot opened his mouth to answer, but Red burst out of the safe-house then, panting. He fell to his knees in front of them, relieved beyond words to find an alive Racetrack instead of a splattered one.

"Red...?" The leader asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder, "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah." He licked his dry and cracked lips, looking up to stare at the Manhattan newsie. "Don't...scare me like that, Race..."

The other only nodded silently, his eyes, and thoughts, far away.

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The two adventurers ended up sleeping in, while the rest of the newsies got dressed and headed out for work. In no time it was just the two of them, Spot in the Brooklyn room, lazily staring at the ceiling.

Race was...

Spot's ears caught something and he rolled off the bed, feet padding silently to the adjoining door. Race was...crying.

The youth couldn't believe what he had almost done. He lay shaking in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin, eyes closed as tears leaked behind them. He had almost killed himself, had nearly succeeded too! If Spot hadn't been there to catch him, he wouldn't be alive.

He would be dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead...Dead...

Trembling, he tried to take a sip of the hot tea Mush had made for him, but his shaking fingers wouldn't grip the mug and it started to slide from his hand.

Whimpering he dug his nails in, halting it only slightly. "No..." He moaned as it nearly left his grasp completely. "No..."

A pair of hands wrapped around his, securing them to the cup, raising it to his lips. He took a sip and sighed softly, eyes opening to see who it was at his side, although he already knew.

Spot sat lightly on the edge of the bed, his hair falling over haunted eyes. "I know the feeling, my brother." He whispered, rolling up his sleeves and flashing the pink scars he bore from his own suicide attempts.

Race stared at him, but it wasn't because of the scars, he had seen them many times since it had happened. He had helped bandage them after all. No...it was because of what he had said, what that annoying leader of Brooklyn had said.

"Brother?"He murmurred, not understanding. He couldn't have heard him right, could he? Why would the great Spot Conlon call him 'Brother?'

The look in the other's eyes told him he had, indeed, been hearing correctly. "Yes, brother. MY brother." He reached out and tenderly pulled the blanket up a little more. "Get some sleep, Race. You'll feel better when you wake up. Trust me."

Race did trust him, and as he fell into a deep sleep, he felt Spot squeeze his hand

gently. "Ill keep the nightmares away."

He did that too; Spot did.

His brother.

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odd...chapter...wasn't it? -smirk-

review, come on...ya know you want tooo...

And hey- this chapter was on time! Booyah!