For Brooklyn 2

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Eleven: For Spot

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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It was three in the morning, the moon covered by a sheet of dark clouds, the stars veiled and dim. An icy wind blew through all of New York, sneaking into every house, freezing water and frosting over metal. It was a type of cold that couldn't be held at bay with blankets alone.

Spot shivered, teeth chattering so hard his jaw ached. He curled up in the single dirty sheet he had managed to grab a hold of before he had been thrust into the basement, shirtless, and with blood covering his upper chest. He had tried to wipe some of it away, but the shallow cuts had already clotted, and what was worse, they seemed to attract the cold even more than the chains around his wrists did.

Even though his skull was about ready to split open and he was sure something around his chest was badly hurt, he was thankful. Thankful his father had been in a good mood, thankful he was sent here instead of the morgue, thankful Jake Conlon had only given him one rule.

Not to sleep.

However, that was going to be a lot harder to manage than the youth had, at first, thought. He was so tired, both emotionally and physically, his eyes throbbing from the force it was taking to keep them open. But...it was late...so surely it wouldn't be so bad if he just slept for a little? He just had to get up before his father. God... he was so tired...

His eyes slid shut immediately, his breathing evening out as he fell headfirst into a deep sleep, but something kept pulling at him, a voice in the back of his head. It told him he had to remember to...remember to...

Well, whatever it was he had to do...it was going to wait.

He was just...just so tired...

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"Red, this aint gonna work!" Race bit out in anger, his eyes following the redhead as he paced back and forth across the floor, "Thats a stupid idea and you know it!"

"Then give me a bettah one, Anthony Higgins!" Red exploded, throwing the glass in his hand against the wall so hard it shattered all over the floor. "Cause every second we waste here, Spot is payin foah it!" His Brooklyn accent was so sharp it literally rent the air as he woke the entire house. "Do you WANT his blood on your hands, anymore den it already is!"

Race's head snapped up, his eyes wild, and Red knew instantly he had went just one step too far. "Excuse me?" His voice was lethal, deadly even, as he got to his feet. "If his blood is on anyones hands, it is yours, ya sorry excuse for a leadah!"

The poker player was stunned by what he was saying, but the words kept coming out of his mouth, one after another. He had never talked like this to Red, never. He had been Red's right hand man back in Brooklyn. They had been brothers, had saved each other's life far more than once, had put everything on the line to protect their friendship, and now..the words that were coming out of his mouth...He couldn't believe he was the one saying such things, especially since they weren't the least bit true.

By now, everyone was up, crowding the doorway to the only single room the Manhattan safe-house had. Jack pushed his way in, a shirt hanging off his shoulders. He had been prepared to step in the middle of it, but know that he saw, saw the look in their eyes...that Brooklyn look...He backed off at once.

He wasn't getting in the middle of that one.

"What would you know of leadin!" Red snarled, eyes flashing. "You aint no leadah, nevah have been! You stood back in da shadows and let everyones else fight, just like you stood in da shadows and let dem take Spot!"

For a minute Race thought he had seriously heard Red wrong. He had to have been, because what he just heard.. "What did you just say? THAT I LET DEM TAKE HIM!" Before he knew what he was doing, his fist had slammed into the elder's jaw, sending him staggering back into the wall, "YOU WERE TWO FEET FROM HIM, YOU ARE HIS FATHER! I SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD TA DO ANYTHING AT ALL, HE WAS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY!"

"I KNOW HE WAS!" Red screamed, right hooking Race even as he tried to dislodge a large piece of glass that had imbedded itself in his foot. "BUT IT WASN'T ME HE WENT TO FOAH HELP, WAS IT! HE WENT TO YOU!"

Race froze from where he had fallen back onto the bed, hand holding on to his face. He blinked, wide-eyed, up at the other, startled to see a tear fall down his cheek. Red almost never cried, and especially not in front of others.

"He didn't come to me...Didn't ask foah my help." Red whispered, hand coming up to wipe the drop away, leaving blood behind on his skin. "I could've kept him away...hidden him..."

Suddenly he was on his knees, staring at his red hands. "But instead...I let him go back there...back to that house." Tears were streaming down his face, "You're right, Race, I am a failure...as a leadah, as a father...He was two feet away from me...and I did nothing..."

Race stared, openmouthed as he glanced over at the door, just as Ace forced his way to the front, literally shoving people out of his way as he stalked into the room. It was so silent you could hear the floor board creak slightly as the Bronx leader knelt in front of the other.

For a moment it was utterly still, and then Ace gently pulled Red's hands into his own, closing his fingers around the blood. "Fratello che...e tutto il di destra, noi lo otterra indietro. Lo giuro a voi." He said softly in Italian.

( Brother...It is all right, we will get him back. I swear it to you.)

Red's eyes were haunted as he raised them, "Allineare?"

(Truly?)

Ace took a long look around the room, seeing that everyone was more or less, clueless as to what was being said. Most of the Manhattan newsies were Italian, and could speak a little, but very few of them knew this much. Race, however, was half-way off the bed, waiting for his answer.

So he gave the only one he could.

"Lo giuro..." He repeated, taking a deep breath, "Sul mio titolo."

(I swear it...On my title.)

"No!" Race shouted, on his feet, "Ace, smussate!" For Ace to swear on his title...That meant...if something went wrong...Bronx wouldn't be his anymore, it would be open season for anyone to just dance in and take it. And with the leader law there...if someone bad were to take charge, they would be stuck with him.

(No! Ace, you cant!)

Ace looked from him to the very alert Red, who had torn his hands away and was now staring at the Bronx boy as if he had never seen him before in his life. "Lo latta, ed io." He said sharply, "E la mia scelta."

(I can, and I will. It is my choice.)

"Ma non siete giusti rischiandosi." Red was trembling as he shook his head back and forth rapidly. "Smusso li ho lasciati farmi questo per!"

(But you are not just risking yourself. I cant let you do this for me!)

"Im not doing it for you." Ace said, in English, as he stood, for once looking every inch the respectable and noble leader he was. "Im doing it for Spot."

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"BOY!"

Spot's eyes flew open so fast his vision swam and he cried out as he was drug to his feet and shoved back against the wall so hard his head flew back and struck stone.

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT TO SLEEP!" Jake screamed in outrage as he slammed his fist into the boy's gut. There was a loud crack as his previously injured rib gave, and Spot screamed, his vision going from red to white to black and then back to red again as the door slammed open, hitting the wall with a bang.

He was sure it was Red, maybe even Race. He was so sure it was one of the newsies, coming to his rescue finally, that when he looked up, he was struck speechless and he could only stare. It wasn't Red, or Race. It wasn't even a newsie.

It was his sister.

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oooooo, betcha some of you weren't expecting most of that.

So, review, and Thursday you get the next one! How's that sound? -grin-