Title: Never Enough

Summary: For every prohibition you create you also create an underground. SET IN 1921. The rivalry between the Manhattan Mob and the Brooklyn Boys, between Kelly & Conlon, is legendary. But money and infamy wasn't enough for them. It never is.

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, Johnny Conlon and a whole mess of other characters that will most likely pop up throughout this work. Rae Kelly-Phillips and the children: Edwina, Alden and Mackenzie, are all the creative property of Rae Kelly.

Author's Note: Well, I must say, happy anniversary to Never Enough. It is four years to the date that I first published the prologue to this story and, despite the 2.5+ year hiatus, it is still going strong. This chapter introduces more characters, checks up on some of the others and gets us back into Brooklyn (for a bit). I want to dedicate this chapter (and story, really) to any of the people who have ever taken the time to read it and leave a review. I get goose bumps when I see a review alert in my inbox – they really are appreciated.

I also want to especially thank Rae Kelly, for her help (and prodding) with this story. I hope you like this chapter – I told you that you would, let's just see if I'm right :)

---

Part XV

Without even turning around, Blink heard as Rae left back her car out of the alley and drove away. He was mildly concerned at the strange manner in which she was acting but pushed such thoughts aside. Someone was responding to his knock.

"Who is it?" The voice was gruff and low but still commanding. Jack. Well, if Race headed off to the speakeasy already and Mush is home with Gabriel, I guess it makes sense that Jack is answering the door. Boots must not have come back to the office yet.

"Blink."

There was a pause and, from outside the grey door, he heard a rustling of paper and the tell-tale groan of the woman who was inside with Jack. "Alright, if you say you're Blink Moore, than you'd know the answer to this here riddle, right?"

Blink shook his head; Jess, from inside the office, had simply muttered her husband's name. Sometimes Jack Kelly got a bit too paranoid – or, maybe, it was just because he liked riddles. Either way, Blink should have known to expect this. "Right, Jack."

"Good. Here it is." There was another rustling of paper and Blink knew he was straightening out his list of riddles in order to choose one that Blink would know. "Alright: My first wears my second; my third might be what my first would acquire if he went to sea. Put together my one, two, three, and the belle of New York is the girl for me. What one word am I?"

Man…hat…tan…The blonde man sighed. Jack really liked that particular riddle only because of the answer. "I don't know…Could it be Manhattan?"

The door opened at once. Jack, unlike his earlier expression of confusion and upset, was looking surprised but happier than he had been. Blink's stomach dropped. He really did not want to be the one who brought the boss back down.

He entered the office as Jack closed the door behind him. Then, without a word, Jack retook his seat. Blink took the seat next to Jess.

Once he was settled again, his elbows on his mahogany desk, Jack gestured towards Blink. "Where's my daughter, Blink?"

He had been expecting this. "I saw Frankie and her friend to the door of your apartment before coming back—"

"Why did you come back, Blink?"

The calm way in which Jack was addressing him made Blink almost second guess his actions. Maybe it was not the smartest idea leaving those two girls alone… "The new girl…the blondie? She told me something and I wasn't all that sure that you knew so I had to come back." When Jack did not interrupt him, he continued. "Jack, there's a problem. That kid you shot down at the park?"

"Yeah?"

"Jack, that was Mickey Finn." Jack did not seem to recognize the name. Blink, he realized was, out of nerves, fiddling with his brown eye patch and, under Jack's questioning gaze, he dropped his hand. "A Brooklyn Boy."

"Oh, shit," Jess said, covering her mouth following the curse word. Her green eyes were opened wide and the woman seemed to pale. Not again…

Jack turned sharply towards his wife. "Don't you swear, Jess," he said at once, almost as if it were a reflex, before turning back to face the man sitting before him. He then placed one of his thick hands on top of his head, patting the slicked back hair. "You sure, Blink?"

He nodded. "That blonde girl told me. Seemed real hard for her to spit it out but she finally did. She was out with him, spending the evening on our side of the bridge. But she was all serious when she said his name. Even mentioned Spot – called him Boss Conlon."

There was a tense pause before they all head a loud smack. Jack had brought his hand down – hard – on top of the desk. "Are you telling me, Blink, that you knew that girl had a tie to Brooklyn and you left her with Frankie? Damn it! I knew I should have taken care of that girl."

If it were not for years of working with Jack Kelly, and understanding his temper, Blink might have lost it right there. The man was glaring daggers at him, this thin mouth set firm. But, before he could reply – how could he reply? Jack is gonna kill me – Jess held up her hand.

"Jack, calm down. I'm sure that Frankie can handle herself. I mean, she's home. What could Reagan do? She's not in Brooklyn, you know."

Never before had Blink appreciated the sway that Jessa Kelly held over her husband. When Jack slowly tore his fierce gaze from Blink to listen to his wife, he felt like he could almost kiss the woman.

She was still talking to him. "I think the bigger problem right now is what are we going to do? The last time blood was wrongfully shed a huge fight followed – and that was Brooklyn's fault. Now it's ours. Can we go through that again? Or is Spot going to just come after you?" Her voice, while it had started out strong, was almost faltering now. The repercussions of Jack's brash action seemed to just occur to her.

Jack heard the way her voice seemed to disappear. Slowly, he climbed out of his chair and, after walking around the large desk, stood behind her seat. He placed his hands on the salmon fabric of her dress, his fingers pressed against her shoulders. "Don't worry, Jess. We'll get through this. I promise."

She sniffled. Blink felt entirely uncomfortable. I'm going to kill Mush for leaving me alone this afternoon. I don't think none of this would have happened to me if he would have finished his work.

Jack sighed. "I don't think that I'm going to be able to get anything else done tonight. Jess, I'm going to take you home and check up on Frankie. Maybe we'll be able to get some more information out of the Reagan kid. Blink, you head out to the 'bakery' and shut it down. If that Sherman idiot makes good on his threat, he might go back later. Then go home. You look like hell."

Blink nodded and hurriedly left the office, eager to get his orders done so that he could return home to his wife for the evening. The day just was rotten and I want to forget it. I ain't sure what's in store for us all but I need to get ready for it all.

It was not until he was approaching the new speakeasy just off Duane Street that he remember that he wanted to tell the Kelly's about Rae's visit.

--

"Mama!"

Rae almost teetered on her heels as a boy, short for his age, came running in and wrapped his arms around her skirt. He was small and thin with a head of dark hair – just like his father had had, Rae thought with a sad smile. Sometimes, when Alden got her off guard, she was surprised at the similarities between the ten year old and his father. And it made her sad.

She tried to cover up her feelings by stretching her smile wider. "Alden, honey, how are you?" she asked as she bent over and gave her only son a tight hug. The boy, ever since his father's death and their relocation to Manhattan, had become very attached to his mother.

"I'm good, Mama. Did you bring Spotty back with you?" He let go of his mother's legs and took a step back, looking up at her with bright brown eyes.

"Not yet, baby. Spotty will come home soon." She thought it was adorable how Alden had taken to calling Spot 'Spotty'. Not to soon after moving into his rather large house, Spot had instructed Rae to use his surname. It made things easier, he said, if the boys did not know that her first husband – and his children – was from Manhattan. Alden was a huge fan of Spot and his son, Johnny, and did not mind acting like part of one huge family. Neither did Mackenzie; the youngest of Rae's children, Kenzie was only six months and, as far as everyone but the immediate family knew, was Spot's daughter. He regarded her as such, anyway.

There was only one flaw in the Phillips-Conlon household: Rae's fifteen year old daughter, Edwina. Wina had been friends with Frankie Kelly (Jack and Jess's daughter) and Lila Younger (Danny and Josephine's daughter) and was quite upset when she had to leave her home and friends in favor of moving to Brooklyn. At first it seemed like she would readjust alright, considering she developed a huge infatuation with Spot's seventeen year old son, Johnny. Not soon after, though, the pair developed more of a sibling relationship than a lover relationship and Wina started to act out. She only became under control following Kenzie's birth.

"Mama, are you home?" Wina called as entered the foyer of the Conlon home. She was a tall girl, almost as big as her mother, with the same fair hair and grey eyes. She had her father's lush lips, in contrast to Rae's thin ones, and normally cheery disposition. In the month's following Kenzie's birth, Rae had seen more of her cheerful attitude return. I hope she's finally getting used to her father's death. She knew that neither she, nor her children, would ever forget Jason Phillips but she knew they had to carry on. Her daughter might resent the fact that she moved in with another man so soon following her own father's murder – and, unknown to her mother, she knew the sordid details of her father's death – but Rae did what she had to. At least she had turned back to the only other man she had ever loved.

Rae shook her head briefly before greeting her daughters; as Wina walked forward her mother, Rae could see Kenzie being cradled in her older sister's arms. "Yes, dear. How did everything go today? Did you hear from your father?"

A flash of annoyance crossed the girl's face. She hated it when her mother referred to Spot Conlon as her father. Rae did so because none of the associates who were in and out of the Conlon house knew of the circumstance – except for Scotch O'Reilly. They assumed that Rae was the mother of all the children – and that she had been tucked away for safety concerns. Rae did her best to follow through on the charade. And, as she looked at the beautiful (and expensive) ring she wore on her left finger, just above the simple band Snitch had given her near eighteen years ago, she thought, At least it won't be false much longer. Soon enough I shall be Rae Conlon.

"No, Mama. He never came by today. It was just me, Alden and Kenzie. Oh, and Mickey Finn for the morning. He borrowed some of Johnny's clothes for some date he had," she said before adjusting Kenzie in her arms. When the baby, woken from her nap, began to cry, Wina extended her towards her mother.

Rae nodded and accepted the baby, rubbing her back gently. "Did Johnny come back yet?"

"Nope, Mama," Alden piped up. "He hasn't been back to the house yet."

Kenzie's cries had quieted almost right away. Rae rested her small head – full of dark hair; she's going to be another one, just like Alden – on her right shoulder. "Good. Well, now that I'm home, it's time for bed, my babies." Wina started to scowl but Rae silenced the girl with a look. She had never let the children know about Snitch's work before his death; now that they knew – or, at least, Wina knew – she was even more protective of them. Rae knew that much of Spot's work for the Brooklyn Boys started at night, after he returned from his day job. Most nights, she had the children in bed before some of the shadier of Spot's boys came to the house.

She handed Kenzie, sleeping again, back to Wina. "Put Kenzie to bed, Wina. I'll be up to talk to you all in a minute. You too, Alden," she added when the boy seemed to sneak in the direction of the Parlor Room.

Once her children had all headed up the stairs to their bedrooms, Rae brought her fingers to her temples. The way Edwina had casually mentioned one of the Finn brother's made her feel sick. Could it be that Mickey is the one who got shot in Manhattan? Would he have been foolish enough to bring his date there? And, if so, where's the girl?

Her thoughts were interrupted however when the door behind her opened. She dropped her hand and spun around. There was a man, nearly untouched by wrinkles, with fair hair, streaked with grey. He was on the average size but his very presence demanded attention. The suit he wore was dark and contrasted greatly with the lightness of his cyan eyes. He smiled charmingly at Rae as she turned to face him. "Hello, love."

Spot was home – and he was in a good mood. Uh-oh. How am I going to tell him?