A/N: Yup! Another chapter! Hope you like it. lol I think it's pretty good. Anyway, here's my disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters. Also, Spunk belongs to Spunk, Gypsy to Gip, Kit Kat belongs to Kit Kat, Marsh belongs to Myya Conlon, Air belongs to Air, Runaway belongs to Runaway, Jittery belongs to Jittery, and Whisper belongs to Whisper. Wow. Okay, that was long!

Chapter Sixteen: Runaway

Criss-Cross opened her clouded eyes with a groan. She felt weak and ached in more than a few places. At the sound of nearby breathing, she turned her head and came eye-to-eye with the deep brown eyes of the late Spot Conlon's girl.

"Runaway?" she murmured softly, undoubtably surprised to see the girl.

A smirk hit the asian girl's face as she beholded the younger girl with sad eyes. "Yeah. 'S me. Da one an' only Runaway."

A smirk came to Criss-Cross's face too as she rolled onto her side, and sat up, wincing. As she brushed some stray strands of hair out of her face, she realized that something was wrong. Grabbing a lock of her hair, a scowl graced her thin features. Someone had cut her hair short! It was not chin-length, and curled slightly at the ends.

Runaway's smirk widened as she saw the horrified look in Criss-Cross's eyes. Her hair had not been that short since when she'd first met Spot. With a glower, Criss-Cross realized that her hair wasn't the only thing that was wrong. Looking down, she found that she was wearing a women's nightshift instead of her normal men's underwear. Glowering, she met Runaway's sad gaze with a small growl.

"Hey. Don' look at me's," Runaway said, holding up her hands, "I'se not da one who did it..."

Criss-Cross snorted and rolled her eyes. "Well den who did?" she snapped, sounding exactly like you'd expect the sister of Brooklyn's King to sound, superior, tough, and rough.

"Kit Kat," Runaway said with an exhausted, slightly saddened sigh.

"Jack's goil?" Criss-Cross asked with a groan. Runaway nodded, rolling her eyes at the thought Kit Kat's need for neatness in the boarding house.

Searching around for her clothes, or at least something that wasn't girly to change into, Criss-Cross noticed Runaway's sad eyes watching her with a longing expression. Walking over, she gave the other girl's hand a squeeze, and said softly, "I'se sorry about Spot. I'se truly am. An' I feel yer pain. Yas weren' da only one who loved 'im…"

Runaway brushed her hand away, and turned her attention to a cot at the other end of the Manhattan infirmary room. A current hung around it, and Criss-Cross could hear someone moving around the bed, tending to whoever lay on it.

"Who's down dere?" she asked quietly.

"Blink," Runaway replied. "'E got injured in a fight, an' 'e's in a pretty bad condition. Marsh an' Air are consolin' Whispah. An' Jitt's out gettin' a doctah."

Criss-Cross nodded her understanding. She knew all of the girls from her stay in Manhattan during the strike, right before she'd left for Colorado. She could easily see the loyal Marsh and kind-hearted Air consoling the sweet, quiet Whisper, who was Blink's girl. Jittery (Jitts for short) had always been the best athlete amongst the Manhattan girls, but she'd never been too fond of female competition, so Criss-Cross had no problems with her being the doctor-runner. But then her mind came to rest on the last Manhattan girl that she'd gotten to know, the quiet, very secretive Gypsy, more commonly know as Gip.

"Wheah's Gip?" she asked Runaway. But a voice from over her shoulder answered her.

"I'se right heah," Gip said, carrying in an armful of bandage and a pail of water that had soaking rags in it. "Hey Criss-Cross. How's ya?"

Criss-Cross grinned at Manhattan's one and only blue-eyed gypsy. "Hey yerself. I'se okay, despite da fact dat I'se a lil beat up an' in need a some real clothes. How's you?"

"Exhausted an' sick a dis damn fightin'," Gip answered, an angry look in her deep blue eyes. Criss-Cross walked with her to the sheet and drew it back so that Gip could easily step into the private nook it created. A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw the horribly-beaten Kid Blink lying nearly dead on the cot.

"Oh God…" she said softly, looking up towards the heavens that she normally didn't believe in. What'd God evah do foah me? she'd often wondered, but now she thought a silent prayer for her beaten friend.

"'E's doin' real bad," Kit Kat said softly to Criss-Cross, her voice cracking slightly and tears showing in her hazel eyes. She'd always been one to be caring and concerned. She stood by all her friends, and was always ready to lend support to those who needed it.

"Wheah's da fuckin' doctah?" Marsh said, storming into the room, how upset she was clearly showing on her slim face. Her dark green eyes revealed that the incident was tearing her apart inside.

"'E'll be heah soon, Marsh," Gip said softly. "It's only been twenty minutes since Jitts left, an' da office is all da way in Central Pawk. She's'll be back soon d'ough. She's da fast runnah outta all a us."

The door to the infirmary opened again, and Criss-Cross peered around the curtain to see Jack, Dutchy, Specs, and Mush enter the room. Seeing Jack brought a large glare over her face, and she clenched her fists tight.

"How's 'e doin'?" Mush asked, genuinely concerned. She remembered that Mush and Blink had always been good friends. Constantly joking together and they could often be found selling near one another.

"Not so good," Kit Kat responded. "I'se afraid if da doctah doesn' get heah soon, we may lose 'im."

Jack's eyes grew grim and he nodded solemnly as Dutchy collected his girl Marsh and took her back downstairs to continue consoling Whisper. Specs had gone up to Gip and was holding his silently crying girl in his arms, his expression one of both love and grief. Criss-Cross knew how it felt to think you were going to lose someone. When she'd been nine, a cart had run over Spunk, leaving her in a bad state, and the whole lodging house worried.

Mush had taken a seat by the window, and was holding his tired head in his hands, clearly biting back tears. Jack had given Kit Kat a small hug, and after chucking her softly under the chin, he turned his attention finally to Criss-Cross, who had taken over Gip's place and was silently cleaning Blink's wounds with a wet rag, trying to clean off as much blood as she could.

"Criss-Cross…" he said in a commanding tone that she would have none of.

"What da ya want Kelly?" she snapped. "Ta mess with what it's doin' some moah, a are ya gonna let me help take care a yer friend heah befoah 'e dies?"

Jack cleared his throat, slightly taken aback by her cruel tone. "Let Gip do dat. She's plannin' on doin' it anyway. You an' me needs ta talk."

Criss-Cross angrily dropped her rag in the bucket, causing it to splash some water on the floor, and standing to her full height she glared angrily at the pompous Manhattan leader. Everyone looked up and over at her, fearing she was going to blow her top.

"Kelly…" she said, her voice trembling with anger. "I'se not one a yer newsies. I'se not anybody's newsie. Ya got dat? An' I ain' about ta let you'se walk all ovah me. Now let me do what I'se doin' heah, an' den, when I'se done, den we can talk? A'ight? Cuz I'se ain' in da mood ta deal wit' ya righ' now Jack Kelly. An' if I'se wasn't on da opposite side a Blink from ya, an' concoined about Blink, you'se'd be dead righ' now."

Jack nodded, his slight fear of the Conlon girl showing on his face. Turning, he walked out, soon followed by Mush who apparently couldn't stand being around the dying Blink anymore, and within a few moments, the crying Gip and Specs had left the room too.

Sighing, Criss-Cross ran blood-streaked hands through her hair, and remembered that Runaway was still sitting out in the uncurtained part of the infirmary. Handing her rag to Kit Kat, she wiped her hands on the nightshift and stepped around the curtain, where she came nose-to-nose with Runaway, who threw a pair of pants, a shirt, and men's underwear into her arms, gave her a meaningful look, and walked out saying, "You an' me Criss-Cross, let's go wait foah Jitts an' da doctah." But she walked out before Criss-Cross could reply.

However, Criss-Cross knew her plan, and silently slipping into the clothes Runaway had thrown at her, she slipped her feet into her boots that lay at the end of the cot, and then slipped silently out the infirmary window, knowing that Runaway was meaning for her to get out and run away from the Manhattan Lodging House so that she could get her revenge on her brother's death.

Spot: I'se getting' avenged!

Yes Spot, you are, now please don't go on a review tangent when I say "please review all those of you who've read!" this time. lol

Spot: I'se won't.

Okay good. So, please review all those of you who've read!

Shout Out: (note that there's only one this time…how sad…)

Bittah: grins Yay! I'm glad you're happy. And that you like my story enough to stay up past 4:30 am to read it! lol Yup yup. All about you and you're boy Advantage. lol And I like to use both sides of people. Especially since Bitter's quite a bit like both Spot and Criss-Cross in a way. (Spot: Yeah, she's like lil ol' me's.) lol I just thought it was fun. YAY! I got the eyes right! does happy dance I was a little worried that I would totally mess that part up. And I'm also glad that I just got her right in general. lol I'm curious about that too. lol And I'm the writer! I'll definitely have to incorporate that into the story somehow… Anyway, you must write more on your story! WRITE! WRITE! WRITE LIKE THE WIND! (Spot: Yeah, yas gotta. Cuz I'se in it! Ha!) Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! And thanks. I wish I had more reviewers. But oh well… And look for the next chapter probably later today! Since I'm in a writing-type mood! Plus it's the weekend!

Criss-Cross