Shades of Grey, Chapter 18 - Think About The Sun

Jack didn't know what to expect when he returned to the Lodging House that night. He'd managed to sell enough that he could afford to pay Kloppman for Race's lodging for a week or so. It was going to have to be enough.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know how things had gone in Brooklyn. Mush was responsible enough, but he didn't know if Blink had managed to behave himself to the point that Spot wasn't going to show up and beat the shit out of him with his cane like he'd threatened to.

"How is he, Kloppman?" Jack said without preamble.

Kloppman shook his head. "You need to do something, Jack," he said softly. "He can't stay here like this."

Jack winced. He'd been counting on Kloppman's support for the argument that was sure to happen if Racetrack had another nightmare that night. Which he probably would, since he had had nightmares every night.

Heading upstairs to the bunk room, Jack did his best to ignore the accusatory looks that were being thrown at him by just about everyone.

"How's Race?" he asked.

Skittery stepped forward. "Tell us what the hell they did to him," he demanded.

"It's none of your business," Jack snapped back at them.

"That's where you're wrong," Skittery replied. "Because Race keeps screaming about a hospital and people telling him not to be a newsie. So if someone is doing this to us, and someone is hurting the newsies, then damn right we have the right to know."

"I really don't know where it was," Jack said without thinking. "There was a weird door, and we went in, and Race was being hurt, and…"

"And you should really learn to keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you, Jacky Boy," Spot's voice cut in. "Some giant slayer you turned out to be."

"And where the hell have you been, Conlon?" Jack demanded. "For someone who supposedly cares so mu –" he shut up as Spot crossed the room and stuck his cane in Jack's face.

"Don't talk about things that you know nothing about," he said, his voice cold as ice. "I'm taking Racetrack with me," he added.

"Well, good riddance," Skittery muttered.

Spot whirled around, cane fairly flying, and the next thing that Jack knew Skittery had been hit and he was lying on the floor in a heap.

The room was instantly quiet. Nobody was stupid enough to mess with Spot while he was in a temper. And they'd all kind of figured by now that there was something slightly… off… with Spot and Racetrack's friendship.

"Watch your mouth," Spot said quietly. "I thought you Manhattan boys were supposed to be brothers and all that."

He glared at the room, and nobody had the decency to meet his gaze. Most of them looked fairly ashamed of themselves, but a few still looked slightly defiant.

"You ain't been here while he's been screaming," Specs said quietly. "We just… we can't help him, Spot. Nobody can. Maybe… if he was in a hospital, you should have left him there."

Specs looked like he instantly regretted his words. Normally he wouldn't have argued with Spot, especially with him being all crazy and whacking Skittery, but it really did need to be said, and he'd never entirely known when to keep his mouth shut, even if he was slightly better about it than Blink. Besides… there was always the chance that Spot would listen to reason.

"The hospital is what did this to him," Spot snapped. "And he'd do better with me than with you guys. You're all as much traitors as Francis here was."

Jack winced. They were both right. He had betrayed Race. But… he had tried to take care of him. He'd tried to do what was best. He'd just tried to protect everyone. He'd tried to protect David by going scab, and he'd tried to keep Racetrack safe in the lodging house.

"Um, Spot?" Mush asked hesitantly. "You sure the Brooklyn Lodging House is the right place for him? Race is my friend and I don't want him to get hurt…"

"We're not going to the Lodging House," Spot said shortly, crossing the room to where Racetrack was huddled in the corner. "Skinner is leading Brooklyn now."


When Mush and Blink had left Brooklyn, Spot had known that he had a really difficult decision to make. He could keep control of Brooklyn, or he could find another place to take care of Racetrack. He couldn't have both. His situation as leader of Brooklyn wasn't as strong as it had been ever since he'd spent so much time obsessing about Racetrack. His boys were beginning to think that he was weak, that he was obsessed, that he wasn't strong enough to be the leader anymore. Those sorts of challenges had always been an issue, but most of the time people were far too scared of Spot to actively fight against him, and Spot's reputation had always protected him.

He needed his reputation to run Brooklyn. But he didn't know if that reputation was worth the cost. He'd sacrificed enough already.

The dockworkers knew of Spot's reputation among the newsies, and they had been willing to take him on. The job wasn't wonderful, but it was going to be enough that he could find a room for him and Race. Leaving Racetrack alone during the day would be something to worry about, but he would work around that as he needed to.

Calling the Brooklyn boys together was actually more difficult than it should have been. In the old days, when Spot called, people came. That, more than even the love or whatever it was that he felt for Racetrack, convinced him that he was making the right decision. His days as the leader of Brooklyn were numbered.

Once all of the boys were finally at the lodging house, Spot stood in the middle of the room.

"I'm done," he said without preamble. "Skinner's the leader now."

He was almost out the door when he heard a voice mutter, "Good riddance."

It was definitely time for him to go on with his life.


Spot hadn't quite known what sort of reaction to expect from the Manhattan boys, but they didn't disappoint him. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by shouts of disbelief.

Useless. All of them.

He dropped down beside Racetrack, who was shaking quietly.

"C'mon, Race," he muttered. "Time to go home now."

Racetrack didn't protest as Spot picked him up and put him on his feet. He was still too thin. It had only been a few days since he'd been rescued, after all.

Placing a hand on Racetrack's arm, he began to guide him out of the bunkroom.

"Go get Race's things, Jacky Boy," Spot demanded.

"What gives you the right to take him?" Jack demanded.

"You know what gives me the right," Spot said coldly, silently daring Jack to challenge him. Leader of Brooklyn or not, he was still Spot Conlon.

Jack gathered Racetrack's things without another word. There was really nothing that he could say.

Race needed Spot's support to make it all the way down the stairs. He was barely responsive to what was going on around him. Spot knew that it was going to take everything that he had to bring his Race back. But Race was tough. And even in that hellhole, Racetrack hadn't given up on him. He'd given up on Jack, but he hadn't given up on Spot. And Ballat had said that Racetrack had been calling for him.

Racetrack would get back to normal. He knew it.

The Manhattan boys were all oddly quiet as Spot helped Race down the stairs. At least they weren't arguing with him anymore.

"Take care of him," Jack said quietly.

Spot just nodded, and led Racetrack out of the Lodging House. Their time as newsies was done.


Six months later

Tony was trapped. The lights were there again, and the noise, and he couldn't move, and there was a voice telling him that everything he knew was a lie. Nobody was coming for him. Not his friends, not Jack, not Spot, nobody. It was all over and he was going to be trapped until he died. Which might be sooner rather than later.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in bed, and Sean's arms were around him. "It's okay," Sean said quietly. "I got you out. You're safe now."

Tony just sat there, trying to relax in Sean's arms. It was getting easier to remember who he was, where he was, but it didn't always work. He was here, and he was with Sean, and he was safe.

He closed his eyes and tried to block out the voices. But he could still hear them, even with Sean there holding him. The doctor, and Nurse Snyder, Tag, and Amy. They were all there, right in front of him.

"It's the Iso, you know," Amy said quietly, her eyes filled with tears. "It breaks you. You'll always be here with us."

Tag nodded, reaching around Sean to pat his arm. "You know that they're just going to abandon you again. You're crazy, just like the rest of us."

Tony curled up against Sean, trying to block them out, but they were always there, just waiting for him.

And deep down he knew that they were right. But Sean was here now, and at least if he closed his eyes he could pretend that Sean was real, and he was safe, even if he knew that the Asylum was always there, just waiting.


Author's Notes-Well. It's done. And it only took me… almost three years?

So… this was based off one of my favorite Buffy episodes – "Normal Again." In which Buffy wakes up in an asylum and has been told that everything is just her hallucinations and there is no slayer.

I hope that everyone enjoyed reading this – I certainly enjoyed writing it! I was a sophomore in college when I started, and now I'm a teacher. Shocking!

Many thanks to B, signpost, Gothica, Glimmer and everyone who has reviewed or encouraged me to finish this.

Til next time!

TSB