Shades of Grey
Chapter 11-What I Did For Love
Spot Conlon was frustrated. This was, in general, not a very good thing for anyone. When Spot was frustrated, it was best to get out of his way until he had worked out whatever it was that was making him angry, or you were liable to end up with a busted head. Although, that usually had the side effect of helping Spot work out his frustrations. So really, it was just best not to be the first (or second, or third) person to accidentally cross his path when he was in one of his moods.
This time though, the mood had lasted for nearly two weeks. Ever since Racetrack Higgins had disappeared somewhere in Brooklyn. Spot would have been frustrated if any of his boys had disappeared, but this was a special case. Technically, the short gambler wasn't one of the Brooklyn newsies. He lived in Manhattan, only traveling to Brooklyn to sell at the races. He spent a lot of time in Brooklyn because of that, although that wasn't the only reason why he spent so much time there. Racetrack may not be a Brooklyn boy, but he was Spot's boy. And Spot actually cared about Racetrack, something that, until now, very few people had realized. The two of them were known to be friends, and they got along well enough. Racetrack was one of the few, if not the only one, who could get in Spot's way while he was frustrated, and emerge unscathed. Well, mostly. He was seen walking funny after one occasion where he'd gone out back with Spot in an attempt to get him to calm down. But Racetrack wasn't here now to do that, and Spot's frustration levels had only increased as the day's passed.
Because, as much as Spot had hated to admit it to anyone, even to himself, he actually loved Race. And now Race was missing.
They hadn't even realized he was missing for nearly a day. The Manhattan boys had just assumed that Racetrack had stayed in Brooklyn overnight, which happened every now and then. But then he hadn't returned to the lodging house that night either, which caused Jack some concern. But still, this wasn't unheard of. The second night he didn't come back to Manhattan, Jack finally decided to check in, and had sent a messenger to Brooklyn to find out where Racetrack was. Swifty had returned hours later, along with a black eye, a lot of bruises and one very furious Spot Conlon.
When people took the time to think about it, after the confrontation was over, it was universally agreed upon that nobody could remember Spot Conlon being this angry. Not during the strike when Jack had turned scab. Not when he'd fought Risk for control of Brooklyn. The pure unadulterated anger in his eyes was enough that Jack flinched back in fear. While he had always claimed that Spot didn't make him nervous, seeing Spot then was enough to make him tremble at Spot's name for months to come.
Spot wasn't that physically an imposing figure, but he'd always had this aura around him that made up for his lack of bulk. Just by looking at Spot, one could easily tell that he was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn't the type of person you'd like to meet alone in a back alley. And that was when Spot was in a good mood.
Jack could have sworn that Spot literally grew a foot as crossed the front room of the Duane Street lodging house. Jack was already beating himself up about not being more worried about Racetrack, and letting so much time pass before he sent out a messenger. The state of Swifty's face only made him more upset. Now one of his boys was injured and another was... well, who knew where Racetrack was? And on top of all that, Jack now had an utterly furious Spot Conlon to contend with.
Even though Jack physically towered over Spot, he shrank back from the look in Spot's eyes. He honestly hadn't thought that he could feel any worse. First, he'd failed his boys with the strike. And now he'd failed them again by not looking out for Racetrack.
Spot didn't pause when he reached Jack. He just punched him straight in the jaw.
Jack fell back, rubbing his jaw. "Look, Spot," he began, but Spot cut him off.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Jack," Spot began without preamble. "How the fuck do you not check to see why one of your newsies didn't come back two nights in a row?"
Spot continued to advance, and Jack unconsciously took a step back, feeling more and more nervous. He knew better than to cross Spot, and he remembered how many guys it had taken to hold Spot back when he'd found out that Jack had gone scab. He eyed the cane that hung on Spot's belt, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of it's blows. Spot never missed his target, and he was nearly invincible when he had his cane.
"Look, Spot, I know that you're worried about Race, but he ain't really your concern..." Jack trailed off, when Spot's eyes narrowed dangerously. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say.
"Not my concern, Jacky-boy?" Spot was no longer shouting, but if anything, that just made Jack more nervous. "Race and I, we... we go way back. And he could be dead and you don't think it's my concern?"
The cane struck before Jack saw it coming. The blow hurt just as much as he was expecting it to, and Jack fell to the floor, clutching his side in agony. He brought his hands up, trying to brace himself against the expected follow up blow, but it never came.
He looked up, and found Spot brandishing the cane menacingly. "If anything happened to him, I'll make you regret it." Jack could tell that it wasn't a threat, it was a promise.
The next day, there were very few people selling in either Brooklyn or Manhattan. Racetrack was one of the better known newsies, and news of his disappearance spread quickly across the city. Spot had organized his boys into teams, and they were scouring the path between the Brooklyn and Manhattan lodging houses, trying to find any clue of what could have happened to Racetrack. The Manhattan boys were searching all of Racetrack's usual haunts, as well as the refuge, but when night fell, nobody had caught any sign of him. And none of the headlines in the papes had said anything about the corpse of an unidentified newsboy being found. Blink and Skittery had gotten into a fight with the Delancey brothers, but they didn't know anything either.
This led to a very large group of disappointed boys that night, and a few of them had made the mistake of finding their way into Spot's path, which just meant that they ended up as targets. Jack was still nursing his injured ribs, and was glad that Spot hadn't hurt him worse.
As days passed, and there was still no sign of Racetrack, the amount of people searching for him decreased. The newsies could only go so long without selling, and most of them had used up the few savings that they had during the strike. This only served to increase Spot's frustration, and he grew more and more difficult to be around day by day. Spot had almost completely quit selling, totally focused on the search for Racetrack. When he wasn't searching, he sold a few papers at some of the better selling spots in Brooklyn, or was at the docks, organizing the remaining searchers. Only a few core searchers still remained, hoping to find a hint of their missing friend. But nearly a week had passed before Blink had come running into Brooklyn, pale as a ghost, searching for Spot.
"What?" Spot snapped at him, from his seat on the docks. He wasn't really in the mood for bad news at the moment.
"Racetrack," Blink gasped out. "I saw him. On the bridge. But then he wasn't there anymore."
Spot sprang to his feet. "You saw him? Why didn't you bring him back here?" The urgency in his voice came as a shock to him. Until Racetrack had disappeared, he hadn't completely realized how much he actually cared about his boyfriend. He'd told Race that, but not knowing if his lover was safe or not was causing him panic. He'd thought that nothing could ever be as important to him as Brooklyn was, and keeping control, but at the moment, he'd have given anything to know that Racetrack was safe, and with him where he belonged.
"He just..." Blink trailed off, and he shrugged. "I don't know Spot, it was like he was there, but then he wasn't. And he didn't seem to recognize me. He was kinda hard to see too..."
Spot leapt forward and grabbed Blink by the collar. "Take me to him," he demanded harshly. All rational thoughts had left his mind, and he was concentrated solely on finding Race.
"But, he's gone Spot," Blink said nervously, not wanting to end up like the others who had made the mistake of giving Spot bad news had. "I'm telling you, he just disappeared."
"You can't just disappear," Spot snapped. "Show me where you saw him!"
Blink flinched back from Spot's tone, not willing to risk angering the volatile Brooklyn leader any further. He mutely led Spot onto the Brooklyn Bridge, stopping about halfway across, and motioned to one of the supports.
"Well?" Spot demanded irritably.
"He was right there," Blink said quietly. "But... he was inside it, sorta."
Spot stared at him. "Are you out of your mind? How could he be inside there?"
Blink shrugged. "It was just... it started to glow, and I saw Race, and he looked real bad, Spot. Like someone had just soaked him. And I tried to talk to him, even mentioned that you were freaking out, but it was like he didn't hear me or somethin'. And then he disappeared, and the weird light went away."
"That ain't possible, Blink," Spot informed him. "You been drinking again?"
"No, I ain't had any. I swear Spot, that's what happened! You gotta believe me." Blink's voice was shaking, but he still radiated an aura of honesty. He was, as far as Spot could tell, telling the truth. But what he was saying was impossible as far as Spot knew.
"All right Blink," Spot said finally, after pausing to consider it. "You go find Jack and everyone else who is still searching, and tell them that we're going to start watching this spot. See if anyone else catches sight of Racetrack around here."
"You believe me, don't you Spot?" Blink asked desperately.
"If there's even a chance that you're telling the truth, and Race is stuck in there somehow..." Spot sighed, not even able to finish the thought. He couldn't bear the idea that Racetrack was stuck so far, yet so close. He had to be able to get his Racetrack back. Spot needed to see Racetrack's grin while he lay in Spot's arms. He wanted to hold Race while he slept. Six months ago, before their relationship had started, Spot would never have thought that he could be tender or loving. But the thought of hurting Race, or of anyone hurting Race, horrified him beyond belief. He just wanted Racetrack to be back, to be safe. It had been far too long since he'd seen Racetrack, since he'd heard the sound of his voice, and Spot was in serious withdrawal.
He headed back to Brooklyn to try to sell what few papers he had bought that day, trapped in his own thoughts. This wasn't like him. He was supposed to be the leader of Brooklyn, but now all he was doing was caring about a Manhattan newsie. He hadn't been paying attention to his boys since news of Racetrack's disappearance had reached him. He should be concentrating on Brooklyn. It was his job as the leader. But somehow Brooklyn seemed far less important than Racetrack was. And Spot didn't know what that meant for him in the future. It didn't matter though, he would figure it out later. Once Racetrack was safe.
The days continued to pass, and slowly everyone went back to selling. Most of the newsies had given Racetrack up for dead. Still, a few of them clung to hope, and every day someone was watching that one particular spot on the Brooklyn Bridge, hoping against hope that they'd be able to see some sign of Racetrack. Spot was selling in Brooklyn by himself at the edge of the bridge. Nobody was willing to sell near him since he had grown more and more frustrated as everyone else had given up hope. While he needed to believe that Racetrack would be fine, it was growing harder and harder to believe that.
Which was why it was so unexpected when Mush came running towards him, urgently shouting his name.
"What?" Spot demanded, clenching his fists. If this was more bad news... Spot really didn't know what he'd do.
"Come quick," Mush gasped out. "Something's happening. It's glowing."
Spot dropped what few papers he had left, and ran down the bridge. He found Jack and Blink already there. They were staring at a low glow that had surrounded the support beam. Something in the air felt different there, and a low hum was emanating from the beam itself.
"I'm going in," Spot announced, the sound of his voice surprising even himself.
"Not without me you're not," Jack snapped. "Racetrack is one of my best friends, and he's one of my boys, not yours Spot. If anyone is going to go after him, it's going to be me."
"Fine," Spot said shortly. "You can come along." He turned to Blink and Mush. "One of you wait here. The other go tell everyone what's going on."
Mush nodded, and turned towards Manhattan.
"Let's go, Jacky-boy," Spot snapped. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the pillar, and was soon enveloped by the glow.
Author's Notes: I swear, I haven't abandoned Save the Last Dance For Me. But I've been waiting to write this chapter (and the next one) since I started the fic.... So Last Dance can wait. Many thanks to B for the beta.
Chapter title is a song from A Chorus Line, which is one of the most awesome shows ever.
Next chapter - Spot and Jack. At the asylum.
Shoutouts!
B-Race is just too much fun to beat up. And it's not that unhealthy. Seriously. And pout We can't do a countdown til we visit anymore. But, its just a few weeks til we start school again! Yay!
Repeat-I'm so not telling if Racetrack is crazy or not. Not yet anyway. And Tag needs a hug. He definitely will after he meets Spot anyway... MWAHAHAHAH.
Aura-At least this was a bit quicker than last time... And it's not my fault that Racetrack is just so easy to abuse!
Koodles-I like plot twists. Race doesn't like them, because most of them end with him being beaten though...
Dreamer-blush wow, I'm glad that its making you think.
Glimm-Writers block needs to be destroyed. But I'm trying the 500 words a day thing, and it seems to be working so far...
Thistle-Well, you wanted a rescue attempt...attempt being the key word. ;)
Shakespearean Fool-laughs Secretly, this fic is based off a Buffy episode. And I like strange alternate universes, and there just aren't enough of them...
Til next time
TSB
