For Brooklyn 2
By: Ambrlupin
Chapter Thirteen: Law of Brooklyn
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 a few days later that Spot found himself in the court house, dressed up for the occasion in hot, tight clothing that made him feel like he was suffocating, melting away under layers and layers of clothing. He felt like a fraud. After all, he was Spot Conlon now, rebel and leader of the Brooklyn newsies.
He wasn't Matthew Conlon; Jake Conlon's punching bag any more.
The only thing that made him feel any better was the waves of newsies that poured into the room, packing the seats, littering the floor. It didn't matter if they came from Queens, Manhattan, Brooklyn, or The Bronx, they were all sitting together, lending their silent, and sometimes not so silent, support.
Caroline sat to his left, her hands clasped in her lap. Her head was down, hair in curly ringlets around her face. She risked a glance in his direction, her eyes shadowed and haunted. He couldn't see the bruises underneath the high collar and flowing skirts, but he knew they were there. Once again, she had payed the price for helping her brother.
Jake was to his right, naturally his mother wasn't present, after all she didn't even think he existed, flanked on his left by the lawyer, a slimy git of a man who worked for whoever gave him the most money. The mere appearance of this man sent icy shivers down Spot's spine. He had no one to support him, no one to back him up. He was up against not only the adults, but a lawyer as well.
"All rise, court is now in session." The guard said, and the entire room stood to let the judge walk in. Spot glared at him the entire time he was on his feet, and then continued to do so even as he sat down. Out of all the luck, why did it have to be this judge?
"Judge E. A. Monahan presiding."
The judge looked down at the table in front of him, raising a slight eyebrow as he caught sigh of Spot, recognizing him immediately. After all, hadn't the little street rat insulted him once already? He picked up his gavel and banged on the desk to get the attention of the room. Apparently, Spot wasn't the only one to recognize the 'honorable' judge.
He hung his head, refusing to raise it. What was the point? He was doomed, he knew it. Just as he knew the lawyer was saying something, just as he knew there were voices all around him. He just couldn't listen, couldn't concentrate, couldn't single them out among the torrent that was his mind.
In fact, the only time he looked up was a few minutes after the start, when the doors to the courtroom slammed opened. A young man stood there, framed in the doorway. He smiled a little and the newsies whistled, a few of them crying, "Ace! Glad ya made it!" and other such nonsense.
And then Ace swung open the other door and everything got so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop. All the newsies were struck silent, eyes riveted on what they saw standing there.
"Who're you?" The judge barked, tired of the interruptions.
"Collin Russiani, your honor. I am Matthew Conlon's current guardian."
Spinning in his seat, and dislodging his father's hand from his shoulder, Spot's eyes literally lit up from the inside, the fire sparking back to life with a vengeance. "Red!"
Red smiled at him, dressed up in Ace's black suit, his hair, not only cut, but combed and slicked back nicely, leaving a few tendrils to fall over his eyes. "How ya doin' kid?" He asked as he came forward, the crowd of newsies parting for him like the red sea did for Moses, closing up behind him in utter silence.
He laid his briefcase on the table next to Spot, and bent down to whisper something to Caroline. She immediately got up and moved to a chair to the other side of the Conlon lawyer, relinquishing her seat to the Brooklynite, who sat down, hands folded neatly in front of him.
"Well." He raised an eyebrow at the judge, "You may start now, your honor."
Monahan's eyebrow twitched and he leaned forward a bit in his chair, "What do you mean, you are his current guardian, Mr. Russiani?"
Red smiled politely, "Well, your honor, to be frank, I believe that would mean I am his father."
"Now wait here just a second!" Jake Conlon bellowed, standing up from his seat, fists clenched. "I am his father!"
Spot coughed, looking up at the judge. "Sir, if I may?"
The elder nodded at him, because he was pretty sure the child was going to say what was on his mind, wither he had permission or no. "What is it, Mister Conlon?"
The newsie bristled a bit, never having liked that name, but he got over it and said, in a voice never betraying his nervousness, "Sir...Re- Collin...has been more of a father to me than Jake Conlon ever has. Which is why I will say what I must. " He risked a glance at the enraged Jake, mostly to be sure he didn't attempt to leap across the table and throttle him. "Jake Conlon may be my blood- father, but in my mind, heart, and soul, there is only one man whom is worthy of the title father, and dat is Collin Russiani."
He was correct in assuming Jake would try something. No sooner did he get the words out did the man try and grab him, his eyes narrowed and raging. He managed to get half a hand around Spot's upper arm, but Red was there and the grip didn't stay on long.
"ORDER!" Monahan cried, even as the guards shot forward to make the adult take his seat, "Order in this court!" When he had it, he raked a sharp eye over Red, looking at him from every angle. He seemed satisfied by what he saw.
"All right, all right." He sighed, "Mr. Fuchs, if you would." He nodded to the Conlon lawyer, who got to his feet and stood in the front of the room, his slicked back hair greasy and shining as his eyes looked around the room slyly.
"Good name for him." Red murmurred, "Fuchs means fox in German." He explained to Spot out of the corner of his mouth, "Sly and cunning. See the way he's looking around? If there was ever a man who would fit such a name, it would be him."
Spot nodded in agreement, but his heart was thumping painfully. He knew what this man was going to say before he even opened his foreign mouth and began to speak. He knew his temper would be called into play, his reputation surely. And so it was. Mr. Fox must have spoken for a good thirty minutes before he paused and gave a slight nod to the judge, who was looking at Spot with startled eyes. There was a question there, on the tip of his tongue. One that desperately needed answering, if only for his curiosity.
"You...Mister Conlon...you did all that?"
What was the use in denying it?
"Yes, your honor." Spot saw Red give him a proud smile and he straightened up in his seat, voice a little stronger, a little more forceful. "Yes sir, I did do all those things." He looked around him at the newsies, "But if I hadn't...those kids back there would have been in trouble."
Monahan drew back just slightly as those burning silver-blue eyes turned back to him, a soft smirk on the youth's face. "You see, your honor, no one is allowed to mess with my bois...
except foah me."
The newsies cheered, stomping their feet and hollering as the judge tried to swallow all the information he had been given. Finally he banged his gavel and called for silence. When he had it, he nodded at Red.
"Well, sir, before you have your own turn, do you have anything to say in regard to what was just said?"
Red nodded, choosing to lean forward in his chair instead of getting to his feet. "Yes, your honor, I believe I do. In regard to the claim that my son," Jake bristled at that, "ran away, is completely and utterly irrelevant."
"And how is that?" Monahan blinked.
"Well you see, the law clearly states that a child who is or was ever mistreated as much as Matthew C. Conlon was by his parents, he or she has the right to leave." Red said calmly, fingers steepled in front of him.
"What law is that!" The judge nearly snapped.
"The law of Brooklyn, your honor."
The entire audience busted up laughing, and this time nothing would cease their mirth. It was just too priceless, the look on the judges face, the look of smugness on Red's. Most of them could remember quite clearly when Spot had said nearly the same thing to E. A. Monahan only a few years earlier, during the strike, and those who didn't know of it were quickly being told.
"Hey, your honor? I object!"
"On what grounds?"
"On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor."
Spot, tears of joy in his eyes, turned to fling his arms around Red, laughing so hard his stomach was hurting, his still injured rib aching from the pressure. But he didn't care, because they had a chance.
Finally, he had a chance.
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Aww that's cute. And I thought I should leave it here because im leaving to go on vacation the 8th and you would rather like to end on a happy note then a cliffy, right? Or would you rather get the next chapter and the cliffy?
Up to you! -smile-