I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. I know, I know. You all thought that I did, but you were mistaken.

To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney, but were they mine I would gladly share them with all of you. (Except for Skittery and Specs, who would be on permanent loan to SakiSaki.)

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.
A/N: Beta credit goes to SakiSaki who took time from writing "Night of the Living Scabs" to help me become a better writer. Anyone who hasn't read it is missing out on the funniest story ever.
Chapter 15 - Intrinsic Value

Spot stepped out of Tony's room sporting his new blue suit. It was the first suit that he'd ever owned. He'd taken all of the money that he saved from his part time jobs and picked it out himself. He was not about to say goodbye to Mr. Higgins in his street clothes.

The sleeves of the jacket were a little too long, and the hem of the trousers pooled slightly over his freshly shined shoes. His new brown necktie looked a little odd with his black belt and shoes, but the look of pride on Spot's face more than made up for any fashion deficiencies.

"How do I look?" Spot asked as he pulled at the itchy starched collar of his new white shirt.

"You look great," Tony replied. Knowing that the suit had cost Spot every cent he'd saved somehow made the cheap and ill fitting garment look like it had been custom made.

"Bring me the scissors from the kitchen drawer," Mrs. Higgins said. "I'll cut the tags off for you."

Mrs. Higgins smiled as she snipped the thin piece of plastic that held the tag. There in bold black letters was the price. $69.50.

As she cut the tag from his trouser pocket, Mrs. Higgins glanced at Tony and they both choked back a chuckle. Spot had always been very thin, but there was enough fabric in the seat of his pants to fit two of him.

"Are you sure I look okay, Mrs. H? They had another suit that cost less but I wanted to look good for Mr. H."

She stood and gave Spot a kiss on the cheek. "You look like an angel," she said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Angel?" Spot grumbled looking at Tony. "I look like a fuckin' angel?"

"Don't sweat it," Tony laughed. "All moms talk like that. She just means that you look good is all."

"But she said that I look like an angel!" Spot huffed.

"At least she didn't say that you looked like a fairy," Tony said as he grabbed Spot into a head lock.

-o-o-o-o-

After the funeral everyone was invited back to the Higgins home for a luncheon.

Tony watched from across the room as Spot brought his mother a cup of tea. To anyone else this would have looked strange, but not to Tony. He knew Spot better than anyone.

He knew that there was a part of this tough guy that wasn't tough at all

Spot had stayed with the family since they left the emergency room. The only time he left them was to go into town to buy his new suit. Anything that the family wanted or needed Spot was there to make sure that it was taken care of.

After a few minutes of watching, Tony went over and whispered to Spot, and then they both went into Tony's bedroom.

"So how ya doin', Spot?" Tony asked.

"Whadda ya mean, how am I doin'? I'm the one who should be asking you how you're doin'."

"Spot, you've done nothing but take care of Mama, Reggie, and me for the past three days. I want to know how you're holding up through all of this."

"Jeese, Race. You're the one who lost his father, not me. I'm fine."

"Cut the crap, Spot! This is me you're talking to. So stop pretending that you aren't hurting, 'cause I know that you are."

"I'm fine, Race, okay? I'm just fine. There's no reason for you to be worried about me. I'm okay."

"Jeese, Spot. You're thick as shit, and you'll never change."

"Why should I change? I'm already perfect!"

"You're such an ass," Tony grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm an ass with a perfect ass.

"Oh yeah?" Tony smirked as he leaned back and checked out the seat of Spot's trousers. "It looks a little skinny to me."

"That's because you like big asses like Blink's."

"Blink does not have a big ass! You just think he does because you don't have any ass at all. I don't know what keeps you from sliding off the couch when you sit down to watch T.V."

"Yeah, Yeah. You keep tellin' yourself that, pal. Then when you and Blink are old and grey, you'll have to buy an extra wide couch just so you can sit together to make out."

The two boys laughed and wrestled until Tony's mood became serious again.

"Look, Spot. Mama, Reggie, and I were talking, and we decided that we want you to have this." Tony reached into his closet and took out his father's walking stick.

"Are you nuts? You can't give that away. It belongs to your dad!"

"Jeese, Spot. Don't make it sound like I stole it out of his room when he wasn't lookin'."

"You are nuts! You don't go givin' away stuff like that. It's yours now. You've gotta keep that in the family."

"Well if it's mine then I can do what I want with it, so I'm givin' it to you. Let's face it. You had more contact with this thing than anyone else," Tony grinned as he shoved the stick into Spot's hand.

"Boy, Mr. H. rapped me on the ass more than once with this," Spot smiled as tested the feel of the stick in his hands.

"He only did it when you had a smart mouth which, for you, was quite often. . . Hey, maybe that's why you have such a flat ass!"

Tony watched Spot's face as he examined the stick. He looked almost childlike as he ran his hand along the smooth dark wood and up to the ornate gold handle. A slight smile came to Spot's face as he lightly touched the worn area where the wood had taken on a warm glow from its owner's grip. He looked a bit unsure as he slowly wrapped his fingers around the stick. It was almost as though he was seeing it for the first time.

"Mama wanted you to have this too," Tony said as he reached into his jacket pocket. "It's that picture of you and Papa at his last birthday party. He kept it on his dresser with the pictures of me, and Reggie, and Mama."

Spot looked at the picture and he couldn't hold back any longer. He sat down on Tony's bed and began to cry. The taste of salt as the tears touched Spot's lips made him want to gag. It was something that he hadn't tasted in years, and something that he'd struggled to forget. He'd sworn never to be weak, or helpless, or to ever cry again. That was something from his past. That was something from before his life with the Kellys, before accepting who he was, and before he'd met Mr. Higgins.

"God, Race. What am I gonna do without him to talk to? What am I gonna do? I miss him so much," he groaned. "He was all I had, Race. What am I gonna do?"

Tony froze for just a moment as his mind processed what was happening. Spot was crying. . . . But Spot Conlon didn't cry. . . . Ever!

Tony sat down on the bed and put his arm around Spot. "I know you miss him," Tony said softly. "I know you do. But you're wrong when you say that Pop was all you had. You got me and Reggie and Mama. And you got Jack and Mrs. Kelly, too. I know that it isn't the same, but you can always come to me when you want to talk. Day or night I'm here if you need me. You do know that, right? And you already know that I can keep a secret better than anyone."

"I know," Spot said as he laid his head on Tony's shoulder.

Nothing more was said. They remained that way until Chris knocked at the door. "Are you guys alright in there?" he asked.

"Jeese, Race. Please don't let him in here. I don't want him to see me like this, okay?"

"Sure, Spot. No problem."

Tony opened the door just a crack. "Everything is fine, Blink," Tony assured him. "Why don't you go around back, and I'll meet you in a little while."

Chris smiled at Tony and nodded. "Take all the time you need," he said.

Tony locked the door and sat back down next to Spot.

"I know that Blink is a nice guy and all, but I don't want anyone to see me like this," Spot said as he sat up straight and took a deep breath.

"I understand," Tony said.

Spot stood up and looked out the window. He watched as Chris crossed the yard and went to sit on the double swing. That was where Mr. and Mrs. Higgins sat every evening after supper.

"I know he's your boyfriend and everything, but the last thing I need is for him to start grinnin' at me," Spot smiled.

"I guess award winning smiles aren't for everyone," Tony chuckled.

"Oh please," Spot smirked looking more like himself. "I keep tellin' ya that nobody should smile that much. It ain't natural."

"Well, like I said, winning smiles aren't for everyone. And besides, who ever said that you had good taste?" Tony laughed.

"I guess you're right," Spot replied smugly. "I was hooked up with you for a while, wasn't I?"

"You're such an ass," Tony laughed again as he gave Spot a shove.

"Yeah. But I'm an ass with a prefect ass. Now go on outside to your boyfriend. This is the longest the two of you have been ever been separated. I wouldn't want you to suffer from smile depravation or something."

"So you're okay then?"

"Sure, Race. I'm fine. . . And thanks for these," Spot said holding up the picture and walking stick. "I'm just gonna sit in here for a while if it's okay with you?"

"No problem," Tony replied. "Just so long as you don't do somethin' disgusting like go through my underwear drawer."

"Well, why the hell would I wanna' do something gross like go through your nasty underwear?"

"Cause you're a perv," Tony smirked as he gave Spot a shove."

"And I'm damn proud of it!" Spot laughed.

o-o-o-o

Tony leaned his head on Chris' shoulder as they swayed back and forth in the double swing.

"So how's Spot doing?" Chris asked.

"He's okay," Tony sighed. "I mean, he's got us and the Kelly's who love him, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But I've got you to lean on and to love me. Spot doesn't have that, and he could really use it right now."

"It's a shame that he hasn't found anyone special," Chris mused. "I guess he hasn't met the right person yet."

An ache filled Spot's chest as he watched Chris and Tony from the window. He was thinking about Mush. Spot had telephoned him several times a day since Jack's party, but Mush refused to speak to him. Spot missed him so much that thinking about Mush caused him physical pain.

"Well, Mr. H," Spot said as he looked at the picture, "you picked a fine time to check out. First Mushie leaves me and then you. What the hell am I gonna do now?"

After a few moments, Spot stood up and put the picture into his pocket. Then he walked over to the mirror that was hanging on the back of the door. "Well, Mr. H. The last thing you told me was to be patient with Mush and to give him time." Spot looked at himself wearing his new suit and carrying Mr. Higgins' walking stick. He nodded at himself in the mirror and smiled. "Thanks, Mr. H," he said. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

"And you've still got Pop's walking stick after all these years?" Tony asked.

"Of course I do," Spot said as he drew the stick out of his duffel bag. "I wouldn't let anything happen to this."

"Are you kidding?" Specs laughed. "He used to carry that thing with him all the time when we were working undercover. It was his trademark. All the street kids used to say that he looked like a king when he was carrying that. And when he isn't carrying it, he has it hanging on his living room wall under a picture of him and Mr. H."

"Gee, Spot. Let me guess," Tony smirked. "Is it the picture of you and Pop on his last birthday?"

"Yeah. I had it blown up and framed years ago. It makes me feel like he's kinda watching out for me. Here's the original," Spot said, taking out his wallet. "That picture has been with me every day since you gave it to me. I carried it through the Gulf War, working out on the street, and everywhere else. It's kind'a like my lucky charm. I wouldn't go anywhere without it."

Tony looked at the picture, and a warm feeling filled his chest. He was a bit surprised when he noticed the picture next to it. Tony looked at Mush and handed him the wallet. Mush's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open.

"Spot?" he said as he pulled him away from the others. "This is the picture that Dutchy took of you and me our last summer together."

"Yeah, it is,' Spot smiled.

"Don't tell me that you have been carrying this around with you all these years?"

"Sure I have, Mushie," Spot said as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I told you that I never forgot about you. And I told you that I never stopped loving you. Why are you surprised that I still have your picture?"

"Damn, I love you," Mush said as he threw his arms around Spot.

"I love you too, Mushie-Boy," Spot whispered, giving Mush a kiss on the neck.

Spot walked to the far end of the room to get another beer from the cooler. He took one last look at the pictures, then slid the wallet back in to his pocket. Then he glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure nobody was near. "Well, Mr. H," Spot said, looking at the walking stick. "I did it. I stayed strong and I waited for Mush just like you told me to do when we had that last talk of ours." He looked up toward the ceiling and waved the walking stick. "But you never told me I was gonna have to wait this long!"

End – Chapter 15

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