Title: Never Enough

Summary: Set during Prohibition, two rival gangs – one in Manhattan and one in Brooklyn –duke it out in a battle over the booze. Which side will win the right to provide all of New York with their moonshine? How far will the fight go? And what about Les?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Newsies characters mentioned in this piece; I do, however, stake claim to Jess Kelly, Frankie Kelly, Reagan Malloy and a whole mess of other characters that will most likely pop up throughout this work.

Author's Note: 05.13.06; Let's just pretend that it has not been three years since the last time I even touched this story. I really did love the premise of this piece when I started it but it just kinda died off. But, with my revival of other Newsies type stories, I thought I would give this one a look over. It needs a little work, and definitely needs to have a few of the chapters condensed – hopefully I'll do that soon. Anywho, I'm gonna try to continue in this. Let's all hope for the best. And, yes, this chapter is short, for two reasons: 1) I'm only just re-doing this story and 2) if you haven't noticed, all the chapters of this have been short. I didn't think it was good to all of a sudden jump to a 2,000+ word chapter like some of my other work. -- Stress.

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Part VI

Reagan Malloy couldn't believe her eyes. It had been started out as such a nice night. She had accompanied one of the Brooklyn Boys', Mickey Finn, to a nearby speakeasy; he had been chasing her skirt for weeks and, under her mother's guidance, she finally agreed to see him. He was, as her mother said, her way into the big time. Mrs. Malloy could not afford to keep her daughter dressed the way the petite blonde deserved to look. If the sixteen year old would work her way into the Brooklyn mafia, she would be set. Reagan finally agreed.

Mickey decided to show off his nerve by bringing her to a Manhattan establishment on their first date. He paraded her around, showing off the gem she was. It had taken him long enough to land her; he was going to show her off. She could only take so much of that before she asked if they could leave. Mickey was only to ready to agree.

But, instead of taking Reagan back to her mother's apartment in Brooklyn, Mickey led her towards a bench underneath a series of trees just on the edge of the Park. She was uncomfortable at their proximity, especially since there was no one nearby. Mickey did not notice her discomfort; instead he just regaled her with his tales of his mob work. At his young age, just past eighteen, he was not more than a minor enforcer. But, as he said time after time, he was rising up quick. Boss Conlon seemed to have taken a liking to him.

His tales were effectively cut off when a classy older women, at least twenty years her senior, came storming across the outer edge of the Park. Her light pink dress swayed against her thin legs as she walked briskly by, mumbling under her breath as she went.

Mickey, always one to start a fight, called out to her to hush. He didn't appreciate that she was interrupting his date. Reagan tried to calm him but she did no good. The older woman had retorted and caused Mickey to get even angrier. It culminated when Mickey shoved the woman. Surprisingly, she retaliated with a strike to Mickey's cheek. Not one to let an old lady get the better of him, Mickey prepared to go back at her with a rock just when another man entered onto the scene.

Then time seemed to slow for Reagan. The new man had seen Mickey's bludgeoning attempt before he could even attempt it. Drawing a pistol out of his breast pocket, he had it aiming before anyone knew it. He called out to the woman, his wife apparently, who whirled around. Mickey held his rock up high but, before he could drop it, the man fired his gun once. Mickey never had a chance. The rock dropped and his body fell down beside it.

For the first few seconds Reagan was in shock. She watched as the man hurried over to his wife's side. He checked to make sure that she was alright before turning his attention towards Mickey. With a quick pronouncement, the man confirmed Reagan's worst fear. "He's dead, Jess."

He's dead…he's dead…he's dead… The words seemed to ring in her head. And, before she could stop herself, she began to scream.

- - -

His preservation instincts kicked in before anything. He was still running on the higher testosterone levels that always accompanied a vindicated hit. And what other hit could be as satisfying as taking out a man who was threatening his wife? Jack raised his gun again, this time aiming it at the blonde girl who screaming.

Jess saw what her husband was preparing to do. She stepped in front of him so that the gun was pointing at her chest. "No," she said, firmly and clearly. "Jack, leave the girl alone."

When he saw that his wife had positioned herself between his pistol and his next intended victim, Jack shook his head. He lowered the gun. "But, Jess, we gotta stop her from screaming. She's gonna alert the bulls over her and they might not be the ones that got on the payroll," he answered. But he did put the gun away.

Jess shook her head, momentarily guilt passing over her lined face. If she hadn't raised the young man's bait, he would still be alive. She couldn't let Jack kill an innocent girl as well. "Let me take care of it then, alright?"

When her husband did not reply, she calmly approached the young girl. She saw the fear in her bright blue eyes and felt even more for her. This child is just about Frankie's age, she noted sadly. Pushing aside the sad thoughts, Jess forced the corners of her mouth upwards into a sympathetic smile. The girl seemed somewhat comforted at this; at the very least, she stopped her screaming.

Jess gestured for her to take her seat on the bench again. When she had, Jess sat down beside her and took her hand. The girl was shaking. "Don't worry, dear. We're not going to hurt you," she said soothingly in the voice she reserved for when Frankie felt sick when she was younger. It seemed to work slightly but not much. "Are you alright, Miss…"

"Reagan," she supplied, her voice trembling. Despite Jess' promise that she was safe, she was still scared and her voice told the older couple as much.

""Reagan," agreed Jess and she patted her on the hand. "We're not bad people. My husband just wanted to make sure that I didn't get hurt. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

Reagan thought about it for a moment before nodding. After spending much of her time the past few months around many of the Brooklyn Boys, she was becoming accustomed to violence being the first reaction in any sort of trying circumstance. So, in a way, the man's response to a threat placed on his wife, it made some sense.

But not much. Despite the kind words of the older woman, Mickey Finn was dead. And, as the last person to be with Mickey Finn, she was dead as well. Boss Conlon would make sure of that. She began to shake again.

Jess looked confused that the girl, who was beginning to calm down, started to grow more agitated. She looked helplessly over her shoulder. Jack caught her eye and shrugged before nodding his head toward the street. She understood his meaning at once; they couldn't risk being caught out in the open, especially with a dead body. Jess turned back to the girl. They couldn't stay behind, but she also couldn't just leave this girl here. So, without consulting Jack first, she made a decision.

Still holding tight onto Reagan's hand, she squeezed it. "Would you care to come home with me and my husband tonight?" she asked, and nearly kicked herself at mentioning Jack. Reagan's fear increased and she tried to pull her hand away. Jess stood up then and seemed to, silently, ask Jack for help. Jack understood and gestured to Mickey's fallen form. "We're not going to hurt you, Reagan. But we can't be found here and I doubt you want to be either."

Reagan forced herself to look at Mickey. The pitied glance lasted no more than a few seconds before she looked over at Jess. "I need to get out of here, Miss," she said, sounding less fearful but more anxious. "I'll go anywhere you want me to go."