For Brooklyn 2
By: Ambrlupin
Chapter Seventeen: The answer to it all
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 lonely in the cell, so very, very, lonely. He sat curled up in the corner, on top of the small cot, staring straight ahead at the dark, damp wall, that he was pretty sure, looked exactly like the dark, damp wall behind him.
He felt another round of hot tears streak down his face and he let them fall. He knew that if he wiped them away, only more would take their place. He also knew he was ruining his 'no crying' policy, but he hardly cared about that anymore.
All he cared about was Spot.
And the way his eyes had shattered at the verdict, shattered into millions of tiny, glittering pieces, scattering so far, it would be impossible to put them back together again. He had looked so lost, so utterly horrified...so much like the young child he had once been...
That Red had completely lost it. He had vowed once to NEVER see that look on his face again, and when he had, there was no more holding back. He winced in pain as he moved his arm, feeling the bones scrape against each other.
He hadn't been holding back so much, in fact, the guards that drug him out of there had no choice but to do the same. His shoulder was dislocated, his vision was so bad he could hardly see, and there was a constant ringing in his ears.
Along with voices.
Voices from everywhere, past and present, here and there. He picked out Spot and Race easy, along with the rest of Brooklyn and Manhattan alike. He didn't know how long he sat there, just listening to his life, but suddenly, his mind slipped back into a memory on its own.
A memory he could very well have done without.
Red sat in the middle of his small room, actually it was just a bit bigger than a closet, trying to tie a bandage around his upper thigh, where a somewhat shallow cut bled out on the carpet. Using his teeth to hold the end of the material, he quickly but tightly wound it around and then tied it off.
Looking down at his handiwork, he suppressed a satisfied grin, which quickly faded as a crash made itself known from the kitchen. He winced just a bit as his mother's voice rose in volume, and a split second later, his father's joined hers.
Great, they were having another fight.
Getting up from the floor, he tossed his bloody pants into the corner and pulled on his only other pair, which, not surprisingly, also supported a tear on the leg, which had come from yet another run in with the gangs around Brooklyn.
His stomach rumbled then, so loudly he was afraid Manhattan could hear it. Crossing his arms over his now aching stomach, he looked around, hoping there was something, anything to eat. Maybe he had overlooked something this morning.
Getting on his hands and knees, he pried up a floorboard, and his face fell. Nope. His secret stash was gone, the hidden spot bare again. Now what was he supposed to do? He had already tried to get something to eat, which explained the wound on his leg, and, judging by what he could hear, his parents didn't have anything either.
Not that they would share it with him if they had.
Shrugging his thin shoulders, he grabbed a small pocketknife, which hadn't helped much earlier, and stuck it in the top of his boot as he pulled it on. Opening his door he slipped out into the hallway and walked right past his parents, who didn't even notice him.
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! HOW DARE YOU!"
"HOW DARE I! HOW DARE YOU!"
Red breathed a small sigh of relief as he slid outside and into the, somewhat less noisy, street. Hands in his pockets he strolled along the market place, sharp eyes looking out for just the right moment, for when a shopkeeper would look away...
Aha.
Reaching out quickly, Red was able to slide an apple into his hand before ducking back into the crowd, a smirk on his face. See, he could do this. Living on the street wasn't that hard-
A hand grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into an alley, too fast for him to even make a sound. He spun, snarling, smacking the hand that held him away. "Get off me!"
The person who stood there was tall, with auburn hair and an evil grin on his face. He was also the one who had given Red the nice cut. "Why hello short-stuff. Wasn't spectin ya to be heah again. Got a death wish?"
After a brief moment of panic, Red's eyes narrowed, "What does it mattah to you? Not like ya gonna be able ta back your big mouth up wit action!"
He had a split second after that to make a choice. To run or stand and fight, with his itty bitty pocket knife. He chose to stay and fight, and that decision would stay with him for the rest of his life.
"WHY YOU LITTLE!"
Ducking the first blow, Red spun on his heel, hand moving to his boot top as the other turned around and came at him again. But he didn't get two steps before a foot came out of no where, dropping him like a fly.
Red blinked up in shock as someone leapt from a fire escape, landing on the ground. "Heya, kid. Seems ya needed a bit of help heah. De name's Checker." He held out his hand.
The other blinked for about a second, but then took it. "...Collin.."
"Collin? What are ya, a house kid?" Checker laughed, ruffling his hair, "Naw, dat aint ya name. Ya name...ya name's Red!"
"Red?" He blinked, but then grinned. "Red." He liked it.
"Yeah, so Red...We could really use ya spunk ovah with me and the rest of the newsies, how bout it?"
The kid's mouth fell open, and he could hardly suppress his joy. Being a newsie wasn't much, but it was certainly more than he had now. He nodded, unable to get the words out. "I..I just have ta get some stuff..."
Checker nodded, expecting this. "Hurry up, Red, I'll be waitin for ya."
Red ran all the way home, bursting into the door and into his room. He threw what little he owned onto a blanket and tied it together, to act as a bag. He had made it halfway out the door before he realized something very...odd.
It was quiet.
Backtracking, Red went into his parent's room, and stopped cold. Eyes wide, he licked his dry lips, mind numb. His parent's bodies lay on the floor, knives in each of their slack hands. They had killed each other while he had been gone.
Red hadn't been able to cry then, but now...Tears flew hard and fast for his parents. As unsuited as they had been to be parents, they were the only ones he had had. He had once asked himself why it was he had rescued Spot that night, so long, long ago.
But really, the answer to that was simple.
He had seen himself in Matthew Conlon.
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Ace walked down the prison, his steps loud in the silence. He trailed just behind a cop, who held the keys in his fist. It had taken a lot of maneuvering, and a LOT of intimidating on his part, sometimes it paid to be higher born than most newsies, but he had finally convinced them to release Red.
Now, all that was left to do, was rescue Spot before he could leave. The only problem to that, was no one had any clue as to go about doing that. The verdict had been pretty clear, undeniably so. Spot was henceforth ordered to be under the custody of his parents...
A look of growing shock spread over his face and his eyes lit up from inside. Rushing past the guard, he slammed to a stop outside Red's cell, practically shaking the bars out of their moldings.
He had it. He had the answer to it all.
"RED!"
Red jumped, eyes shooting to the side. "What are you...Ace?" He got up and walked over, brushing his face with his sleeve. "What's goin on?"
"Im gettin ya outta here!" He cried, voice going a mile-a-minute. "I've got them to get the keys, but, oh GOD, Red!"
"What? What!" Red yelled at him, eyes widening. A thousand bad thoughts ran through his head then, almost all of them involving Spot in one way or another. "What HAPPENED!"
Ace beamed at him, breathless, "I know how you can get Spot back!"
Okay...he hadn't expected that.
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