Okay, so things are gonna start to get a little more interesting in this chapter, and I hope you guys like it! Thank you so much remi lou for the review, I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far! I know not many people read this story so if you see this and could leave a review or favorite I'd really appreciate it... it encourages me to write more :) Anyway without further ado, here's the sixth chapter!

Sarah looked over her shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. She had been waiting on the hill for nearly ten minutes and she couldn't help but feel haunted by the idea that he might not show up. What if he was having second thoughts? What if he decided this was all some crazy fantasy? She wrung her hands together nervously and shivered in the cold air.

The storms had calmed to gentle snowfalls, and flakes of white crystals surrounded her as they lazily fell from the sky. Standing on the hill she could see the peaceful countryside of Central Park covered in a blanket of dazzling white snow, the few morning strollers that walked about, the snow coated trees that covered the area, and behind that the outline of the city as the sun began to rise, flooding the scene with multiple shades of orange, pink, and yellow. The view was breathtaking and Sarah found herself caught up in the magic of it all.

"Beautiful, ain't it?"

Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, but she quickly regained her composure and turned to smile at him. Spot stood behind her, his eyes staring off into the distance and settling anywhere but on her own. She could feel the nervous energy emanating from him and knew that he was just as anxious about this as she was. After a pause he slowly walked to her side, still taking in the extraordinary picture before them. As he stood beside her she found herself studying him carefully for the first time. He wasn't wearing his hat, which she thought strange due to the cold weather, but she decided not to ask, and she realized she'd never really seen him in such an insouciant way. He closed his eyes against the sunlight as the golden haze washed over him. A gentle breeze sifted through his hair and blew the long strands away from his face, revealing the serene guise filling his features. The snow fell calmly around him and settled in his hair and eyelashes, speckling them with glistening flakes. Before she could stop herself Sarah began to drink in every facet. His flawless skin, his thin, but muscular frame, his long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks. She had never really noticed before just how handsome the King of Brooklyn was. She had scoffed at the other girls who fawned over him and daydreamed about him, but even then she found herself doing the same thing. Could she actually be developing feelings for someone she had hated so much?

"Take a picture, Princess, it'll last longuh." Spot opened his eyes and turned to smirk at her. But instead of getting angry as she usually would at such a remark, Sarah found herself grinning back, a small giggle escaping her lips. Spot seemed surprised at her response, but soon his smirk turned up into a smile and he too began to laugh softly. That was all it took for the tension to break, and Sarah knew immediately that things were finally going to be okay between them. She teemed with contentment as she turned away from him to once again appraise the rising sun.

"Dats one o' da reasons why I come here, yuh know?" He said. She hummed in response, not really understanding, but not wanting to ruin the moment with an out-of-place question.

"Da view, I mean," he continued. "It's always beautiful here." She looked at him then, surprised when she found him watching her closely. She could finally see his eyes, and she found herself becoming lost in their deep blue color. They were absolutely striking.

"Is this where you got your name from?" she asked cautiously, knowing that Spot didn't much like to discuss his past. She saw no irritation on his face, however, so she continued. "I've always wondered about that, you know, because I figured Spot isn't your real name. You called this place your "spot" once, and it's been bugging me ever since."

"Yeah? Yuh tink about me dat much, Princess?" He said this jokingly, but Sarah still felt her cheeks flush as he raised his eyebrows at her.

"You's right, though," he continued. "I found dis place a long time ago when I first became a newsie. I didn't have a lot of friends, den, and I liked to be alone a lot. I don't even remembuh why I came to Manhattan dat day, but I knew da moment I saw da sunrise dat I would be spendin' a lot of time here. Me man Rusty was de only one who really noticed and he took tuh calling me Spot cause he thought it was funny. Don't think he ever thought the name would stick though."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what's your real name?" Spot gulped at the question and Sarah knew that she was treading on dangerous ground. She was about to tell him that it didn't matter and that he didn't need to tell her, but he answered before she could.

"It's Sean," he said resolutely, and she knew that she shouldn't press the matter. She was simply happy he felt comfortable enough to tell her. Maybe they could be friends after all.

The couple hardly spoke for the rest of the morning, choosing instead to simply enjoy each other's presence and watch as the sun continued to gradually peek over the skyline. As the morning persisted, the city began to wake around them, and the sounds of life began to fill the air. When the time came for Spot to leave he didn't say a word, but simply gestured for Sarah to follow him as he made his way down the hill. They walked side-by-side until they reached the Brooklyn Bridge where they parted ways, each of them holding the events of the morning close to their heart.

After that day Spot and Sarah began to meet in Central Park every morning. They both secretly looked forward to these meetings and enjoyed the time they spent together. Each day they would brave the cold weather together and would watch the sunrise, sometimes talking about one thing or another and other times simply regarding the beautiful view without needing to say a word.

Over time they began to get to know each other and could easily call each other friends. Sarah, for example, had discovered quite early on that there were certain topics that Spot simply did not wish to discuss, and would be easily irked if she ever brought them up. One day she had tried to ask him how he'd gotten the medicine for Les and where he had gone for so long, but he had completely avoided the question altogether and had refused to give her a straight answer. He also seemed to have a strong wall put up around anything that had to do with his life before the newsies, and Sarah could tell that something disturbing had happened to him; something that she was determined to know about one day. Although it piqued her to no end, Sarah avoided these topics and would instead try to bring up the things she'd discovered Spot loved to talk about. He would tell her all about his adventures as a newsie, about his boys and the way he led them. Another topic he avoided, however, was exactly how he came to power over the Brooklyn newsies. When Sarah had asked that question he had completely clammed up and had cut the morning short, abruptly saying he didn't want to talk about it and that it was none of her business. She remembered he was so upset that she was worried he wouldn't show up the next morning. Needless to say she didn't ask again.

When he did open up to her, however, she absolutely loved the way his eyes lit up when he spoke, especially when he brought up stories about Rusty, Jack, or Race, or really any of the boys under his wing. She quickly discovered that, despite the rumor that the King of Brooklyn had no heart, he really cared for the people in his life and would do anything for them. He relied on them and needed them to get through every day. Because of this, Sarah knew it was important that she help Spot mend his relationship with Jack.

It wasn't easy to talk to Jack about what had happened, but she had brought Spot with her, and he had done his best to comfort her, cutting in whenever she needed help telling the story. Jack had been distraught and livid at what had happened and had Spot not stopped him he would likely have gone straight to Queens to murder the lot of them. Sarah knew that he was also confused and slightly hurt that she had not told him sooner, and that he didn't understand why she had felt the need to withhold the information from him for so long, but he didn't press the issue. She knew that Jack, like herself, was sick and tired of all the hostility between the three of them and that he missed having his best friend at his side. After that day, relations between Manhattan and Brooklyn had returned to normal, and the prodigious Spot Conlon and the noble Jack Kelly could once again be seen roaming the New York City streets together and leading a mighty covert of newsies.

The only thing that had changed was Spot and Sarah's relationship. No longer one of resentment and hatred, the two were closer than ever before. They kept their sunrise meetings to themselves, but they felt no need to hide their newfound friendship altogether. Jack had noticed the change in their attitudes toward each other the day they had told him about the Queens newsies, and he had seemed relieved, if not thrilled, that his best friend and his girlfriend were finally getting along. Sarah was also very thankful herself, never realizing how exhausting it had been to continuously loath Spot as she did before.

Months passed, and the year was drawing close to Christmas time, the air filled with the jolly cheer that only came with the holidays. The winter that had started out so frigid had mellowed considerably, and the temperature was tame enough that Spot and Sarah could continue to meet. They were both elated by the fact, and they both felt happier than ever as Christmas time drew closer, and their relationship flourished as a result.

"Hey, Princess, how you doin'?" Sarah beamed at him. Spot stood in the entry way of the Jacobs family apartment, leaning against the door frame with his usual smirk in place.

"Spot!" she chirped. "What are you doing here?" It was late afternoon and they had already seen each other early that morning, Spot never mentioning once that he planned to visit her family household.

"Well, actually, I ain't here tuh see you, Princess." Sarah raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain. "Yuh see, I ran into Les while I's selling dis mawnin', and da boy wanted me tuh come ovuh. Said he had some new marbles and he wanted me tuh teach him how tuh shoot."

Sarah smiled happily. After Les had recovered from his sickness and Sarah and David had told him what Spot had done, Les soon began to talk about no one else. It reminded her of how he'd acted the first time he'd met Jack; the way he treated Spot like he was some kind of hero. She had been somewhat anxious at first to how Spot would take to the boy, but the pair seemed to get along well. Les would often follow Spot around while he sold, and Spot had promised to teach him how to be a "tough newsie of New York", as he put it. Les had been ecstatic at the idea and always looked forward to the time he spent with the Brooklyn leader.

"Sarah, honey, who's at the door?" Sarah's mother called to her from the kitchen. Stepping aside to allow Spot to enter the room, Sarah answered her. "It's Spot, Mama."

"Oh, Spot! It's so good to see you!" The Jacobs' parents had been tremendously grateful to Spot for helping their children while they were away, and despite his efforts to convince them that there was no need, they were constantly trying to find ways to repay him. "You're just in time for dinner, won't you join us?"

"I'd love to Mrs. Jacobs." Spot smiled cordially at her and nodded his head. Mrs. Jacobs turned happily back to her cooking, delighted that he had accepted her offer. Spot exchanged a look with Sarah and she giggled at her mother's behavior, causing him to smirk and roll his eyes playfully in return.

"Spot!" Suddenly Spot was tackled by a massive force, pinning him to the wall as he laughed boisterously. Les clung to his lanky form, grinning up at him with glee written all across his face.

"Hey, kid, how's it goin'" Spot laughed as Les finally stepped away from him, still attached to his arm.

"It's great, Spot, you gotta see these marbles, come-on, I'll show you!" Les began to drag Spot across the room, the latter giving Sarah a somewhat exasperated look as he passed. She chuckled at his plight and raised a hand to wave at him good-humoredly. Spot scowled in return, but mirth danced in his eyes as he followed the younger boy through the kitchen to a separate bedroom. Sarah sighed happily and went to help her mother prepare dinner, the amused smile never once leaving her face.

"He's a good boy, you know, Spot." Mrs. Jacobs stated, studying her daughter with a knowing look in her eyes. Sarah turned to her, wondering where the thought had come from.

"Yeah, I know," she answered. "He's a really great friend."

"Are you sure he's only a friend?" Sarah jerked her head up in shock, completely taken by surprise at her mother's words.

"Mama, what are you saying? Of course he's just a friend, what else would he be?" Mrs. Jacobs didn't answer but simply nodded her head, skepticism written across her face. "Besides, even if I did like him like that, which I don't," Sarah continued. "You know I'm with Jack, and I'm really happy about that."

Mrs. Jacobs simply hummed away, choosing to ignore her daughter's rambling. Sarah glared at her, frustrated by the thoughts that were now bouncing around her head. She couldn't have feelings for Spot, it just didn't make any sense. She had Jack, and that's all she needed. She had been so excited when he'd kissed her after the strike and she wasn't about to throw that all away because of some misled notion expressed by her nosy mother. Even as these thoughts coursed through her mind, however, Sarah began to wonder who she was trying to convince: her mother or herself.

"Alright, raise your arm like dis, and make shoh yuh still got de marble in de pocket. No, lower yuh arm just a bit. Here, lemme help." Spot walked behind Les, and took his right elbow, guiding it downwards into a better position. The boy's face was scrunched up in concentration as he gripped Spot's slingshot, aiming one of his marbles at an empty glass bottle Spot had set up on the fire escape.

"Now remembuh what I told yuh, breath in and den out when yuh let go, and keep yuh arm steady." Les took in a huge breath before releasing it while freeing the marble, sending it shooting through the air, just missing the glass bottle and crashing instead into the side of the apartment.

"Jesus Christ!" A voice from inside could be heard issuing a series of expletives before the window to the boys' left was flung open and a head poked through, glowering at the two of them. "What the hell are you two trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

Spot and Les exchanged looks before bursting into laughter. Mr. Jacobs, the victim of their unintentional prank, continued to glare at them, but couldn't help but allow his own lips to curl slightly in amusement. Mrs. Jacobs appeared beside him at the window, holding back a chuckle of her own as she placed a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Come now, Mayer," she spoke gently. "Boys will be boys."

Mr. Jacobs shook his head in exasperation and shook a finger at the two boys who were still plagued with fits of laughter. "You boys should really learn how to use that thing before you shoot it. If you're not careful you'll take someone's head off."

"Oh, but Spot's an incredible shot, Papa." Sarah said, appearing behind her parents. "Go on, Spot, why don't you show them? You can put my father's worries to rest and prove that you're a more than capable teacher for Les."

"Nah, I couldn't," Spot said, feeling himself flush slightly at the praise.

"Aww come on, Spot, please?" Les pleaded as he grabbed Spot's arm and looked up at him imploringly. Spot stared down at the boy, knowing that it would be hard for anyone to say no to that look. He would never admit it, but he'd always had a soft spot for kids. Giving in, he sighed and nodded before taking the slingshot from Les and making his way to the far end of the fire escape. While Les went to grab the marble he'd shot, Spot glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, checking to see if it was alright with them. Mr. Jacobs nodded and gave him a thumbs up, obviously intrigued to see if his daughter's praise of the boy's skill was well-founded. Les hurried back to Spot and handed him the marble before dashing to stand next to the window and out of the line of fire.

"Okay, here goes nuttin'" Spot loaded the slingshot and pulled the cord back, aiming with the ease of someone who'd done this a million times. From his position by the fire escape's railing he stood a good twenty meters away from the glass bottle, a distance he could easily achieve, his record being at least three times as far. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous, however, not used to having an audience. All this flashed through his mind in a matter of seconds, and no sooner had he cocked the slingshot than he was letting it go, causing the marble to zoom through the air, whistling passed the window and crashing into the bottle straight on, sending shards of glass in every direction.

Mr. Jacobs cocked an eyebrow at Spot, impressed by the spectacle, Mrs. Jacobs began to applaud, and Les whooped and hollered, but Spot's eyes were drawn only to Sarah, who stood behind her parents, watching him with her arms crossed and a smile on her face, beaming with pride. Spot grinned widely back, keeping his eyes locked with hers, and barely registering Les running to recover the marble and Mrs. Jacobs admonishing him to take heed of broken glass. He made his way over to the window, and Sarah walked up to take her parents' place, who had both returned to the other room after half-dragging Les inside and away from the scattered shards.

"Not bad for an insolent git," she said teasingly.

Spot smirked and took a mock bow, adding extra flourish for effect. "I's humbly honored tuh have impressed da graceful and beautiful Princess of Manhattan."

Sarah laughed and playfully swatted him on the shoulder, causing him to smirk as he placed his hands on the windowsill, diminishing the space between them. Sarah smiled widely at him as his own expression sobered somewhat. "I's not entirely kiddin', yuh know," he said seriously. "At least not da part about you bein' beautiful."

Sarah's smile faded as she comprehended the significance of those words, and she found herself staring deeply into his eyes. Her shoulders began to rise and fall as her breathing quickened and Spot could all but hear her rapidly beating heart. He felt his own pulse accelerate as he realized just how close together they were, and he was once again transfixed by those stunning hazel eyes, the likes of which he had seen in no one else. Before he knew it he was leaning in, feeling her breath brushing delicately against his cheeks, her lips just inches from his own.

"Hey, Sarah!"

Spot and Sarah jerked apart at the sound of the voice, Sarah's cheeks going beet red and Spot leaning casually against the side of the window, trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. Les stood in the doorway to the kitchen, grinning at them, but giving no indication that he'd seen anything he shouldn't have.

"Mama says to tell you it's time for dinner," he said quickly before skipping away, disappearing just as soon as he'd arrived. Spot looked over at Sarah whose face was still slightly pink, and wordlessly lifted his right leg to clamber through the window.

"Well, uh, I guess we'd bettuh get goin'," he stated cautiously. Sarah startled as if she'd forgotten entirely that he was there, and she turned to look at him with an odd expression on her face.

"Yeah, uh, I guess we should," she answered slowly.

Spot could sense her uncertainty and confusion and, hoping to comfort her, he reached over and took her hand in his own, interlocking their fingers and giving her a reassuring squeeze. She looked into his eyes then, and Spot watched as the bewilderment on her face melted into contentment. Spot smiled at her and began to lead her across the room, satisfied that the crisis was averted, at least for the moment. He knew that they would need to talk about what had happened, or rather what had almost happened, at a later point in time, but for the moment the two of them were both happy to simply enjoy the evening and forget about their problems.

Later that night, Spot prepared to leave the apartment. He had enjoyed a delicious dinner with the Jacobs, finding that he got along quite well with the family of five. David, who had showed up halfway through the meal after having been out selling late, had then asked Spot if he wanted to have a smoke, and the two of them had stood on the fire escape together, smoking while having a short conversation. Spot remembered thinking that it was the first time he'd really connected with the other teen. Spot had always regarded David as more of an acquaintance than a friend; he was simply a friend of friends, and they tolerated each other as a result. But during that conversation, in the midst of the innocent small talk, things had gotten a little more serious.

"You know, Spot, sometimes I worry," David had said. He stared into the night, the many lights of the city flickering before them like a giant galaxy on Earth. Spot glanced at him before bringing his cigarette to his lips, choosing not to answer, but to wait instead to see where the conversation would lead.

"I worry about my family, about Les and Sarah, I worry about Jack and the other Manhattan guys. Sometimes I even worry about you, Spot."

Spot snorted. "Well tanks, man, I'm flattered."

David didn't react. His expression remained neutral, and he puffed out a breath of smoke, stealing a glimpse at his companion, revealing the gravity on his face. Spot furrowed his brow, wondering what the other boy could be on about.

"It's just that, everything's been so good lately. Everyone's been happy and getting along real well," David continued.

"Uh, Davie-boy, don't get me wrong, but uh dat don't seem like much tuh worry bout," Spot replied, confusion evident on his face. "Sounds all good tuh me."

David turned to him then, looking him in the eyes in a way he'd never done before. Spot knew that David was intimidated by him, and he was astounded by the straight-forwardness of the boy in that moment, taken aback by the serious tone their harmless discussion had donned.

"Yeah, but that's just it, Spot," he said, still staring at Spot earnestly. "Everything's good. Too good. I can't help but think that we've had so much good, that the bad's gotta be on the way. The scale's gotta tip one way or the other, don't you think?"

After those words, Spot had finally felt it; a sense of foreboding that completely overwhelmed him. He was pretty sure he'd been unconsciously aware of it for a while but had chosen to ignore it in the midst of the good. Now that David had brought it to his attention, however, he was completely overwhelmed by the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He had been distant for the rest of the night, hardly aware of anything that was going on around him. He'd abruptly said goodbye to the family and he knew that Sarah was disappointed by his failure to pay any extra attention to her, but he was much too preoccupied to deal with their confusing relationship at that moment. The sense of foreboding followed him the entire way home, and he couldn't shake it, even as he climbed the stairs toward his bedroom. This is why, when he entered his room and lit the lamp beside his bed, he wasn't entirely surprised by what he found. Stuck in the wall by a threatening, jagged and stained dagger, a piece of dirty cloth hung, displaying the clear mark of a blood-red handprint.