Author's Note: Ha! See what I can accomplish when I'm not all blocked up? Anyhow, I just realized I didn't do shoutouts AGAIN! So here we are. To methegirl: Okay, okay, so it wasn't awful. It just really didn't go at all the way I wanted it to. And man, I think you might be taking this harder than I did when the idea first came to me. At first I was like, "Noooooo! I can't DO that!" But of course, it wouldn't go away... And here we are now. To Eavis: Erm... I don't know how much I can help you with that. Uh... Maybe in the next one? I hope... And thank you so very much. Your prayers were definitely appreciated. And I totally understand about the whole drama camp/performances thing. So no worries, dear!

Alrighty, guys, here we are. You may notice a small pattern developing with the chapter titles for these last few. That was totally intentional. I'm really excited, you guys, like seriously. I'll tell you why in a moment, but first, I'll let you read the chapter...

Chapter 16: Changing Spots

Ya know, when I think back on dat night, sometimes I still can't b'lieve it really happened. I mean, I's known Kid Blink almost my whole life. An' den one day, he's just… Gone.

It was a real painful week, makin' arrangements an' such. Da funeral was nice enough. Some kids from school showed up, an' a bunch'a people dat Bruce knew. But none'a Blink's real friends was dere. Somehow, it just didn't feel right.

Not dat we really coulda had 'em dere anyway. Kinda funny, New York just seemed ta keep gettin' farther an' farther away da longer we stayed in Gotham. It was at dat point where what used'ta be new didn't quite feel like a dream no more. Now, everythin' dat came b'fore feels like da dream. Or however ya wanna put it.

An' it turns out my world weren't finished turnin' itself upside down quite yet. Ta make t'ings worse, Spot was still plannin' on leavin' for Blüdhaven. Less'n a week afta da funeral. Ya b'lieve dat? If ya ask me, an' fer some reason not a lotta people do, I t'ink dat Oracle girl gots a bit too much influence on 'im. But, a'course, ya try'n tell him dat, an' he just 'bout flies off da handle. I's thinkin' he really likes her. Too bad I don't.

Times like dis I curse da day my lungs stopped workin'. I's an absolute wreck wit'out a smoke ta calm my nerves. Cowboy's got me doin' some light trainin', though. Just ta help wit' my breathin', really. Somethin' 'bout Blink's death set him off. I's actually surprised he was still plannin' on lettin' Spot leave, what wit' how protective he was gettin' wit' me.

But, surprise or no, he was all da same…

The reverberating echo of the suitcase's clicking locks brought an ominous feeling of finality into the now-bare room. Spot let out a sigh to suppress the ache rising in his chest, though it did little to ease the lump in his throat. He knew he was doing the right thing, leaving for Blüdhaven. According to Oracle, if he didn't leave sometime this week, he'd be too late to register for his summer classes. But the fact that it was so soon after the funeral – not to mention that he would now be leaving Race alone with Bruce – had him feeling more than a little guilty. It was becoming an all-too-familiar feeling since coming to Gotham. One that he was learning to accept – and, for the most part, ignore.

Though he still had to remind himself almost constantly that he was, in fact, doing the right thing. He drew in a deep breath and turned to take in the empty room that had been his for the last year. Things were going to be very different in Blüdhaven. For one, he'd be on his own. Completely. That hadn't happened since shortly after his parents were killed. And even then, it wasn't nearly the same kind of on-your-own as this was going to be. This was a kind of legal independence with something in front of him to actually shoot for.

For another thing, he was going to be entirely alone. Well, Blüdhaven was a pretty big city in itself. But for once in his life, he wouldn't have any of his friends around. So it was also a kind of social independence, as well. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the thought had him fairly terrified.

And just a little bit nervous, as was demonstrated by the fact that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Race suddenly appeared at his doorway, knocking lightly to get his attention.

"Spot?" the Italian boy asked, sounding almost shocked by what he saw. "Whaddaya doin'?"

"I'm packing," Spot replied shortly, turning around to stuff the last of his things into another suitcase.

Race shook his head, as if trying to process what he'd just been told. Whether the whole ordeal had actually shaken him up that badly, or he really had expected Spot to change his mind and stay, he couldn't tell. But either way, Spot felt that familiar twinge of guilt at the expression on the other boy's face. "Packin'," Race said slowly, seeming to roll the word around in his mind like he was searching for its meaning. "But… Why?"

With a sigh, Spot stopped what he was doing and turned to face him. "You know why, Tim."

Dark eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "Ya still leavin', den?"

The rather sudden shift in mood threw Spot a little off balance. He didn't answer for several seconds. "Yes," he replied at last. "I am."

"Coward," Race spat, a sneer twisting across his face. "Runnin' away, leavin' us here alone—"

"That's not it, and you know it."

"Do I? Do I, Dick? Cuz from where I's standin', I ain't hearin' a lot in da way'a explanations from you no more."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Spot said calmly. Race was angry, that much was clear. But it was entirely possible he was simply feeling guilty and looking for somewhere to let loose. In which case, Spot concluded, encouraging him was probably not the best option.

"What, so dis whole thing is my fault now, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you's sure's hell thinkin' it."

"And how do you know that if I didn't say it?"

"Ya don't gotta say it. Just da fact dat you ain't said one word ta me since it happened tells me all I need ta know."

Spot let out another sigh and shook his head. He hated being right about these sorts of things. "Race, nobody blames you for what happened, okay?"

"Yeah, an' why not?" Race's voice rose in volume as he spoke, fists clenched defiantly at his sides. "Why not blame it on me? You's been doin' dat wit' everythin' else. So why not dis time? Huh? Why not just say what you's thinkin'? Dat it shoulda been me? Why not?"

"Because it shouldn't have been any of us!" Spot yelled out, stopping the tirade short. Race set his jaw as the pair stood facing off, clearly wanting to say more but waiting to see what Spot would do next. After a few moments of tense silence, Spot continued in a much softer tone. "It shouldn't have been any of us. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was precisely why Bruce didn't want us to get involved in the first place. Alright? For once, you were smart enough to stay out of it. It could have been you. Easily. Or me, even easier. But it wasn't. Okay? It was him. And it was nobody's fault. Not yours, not mine, not even his. It just happened. Things like this happen here."

A heavy silence hung between them, the air in the room going completely still. Neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity as their gazes locked in a wordless battle of wills. Race had his mouth clamped shut tight, as if he was afraid to open it and say something he'd later regret, but his glare didn't soften in the slightest. Spot gave an internal nod of approval. Good, he thought to himself, if a little bitterly. He's learning.

Eventually, though, it seemed he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. "Ya can't just go runnin', Spot," he said firmly, refusing to back down. "Not so soon afta…" He trailed off, leaving the thought unsaid.

Spot just shook his head. "I'm not running, Tim. And I don't have to explain myself to you. Bruce agrees with my decision."

"Dat's just it, though. It ain't your decision."

"This is about Babs, isn't it?"

"No, dis ain't about her."

Finally breaking gaze, Spot rolled his eyes and seated himself carefully among the various pieces of luggage on the bed, pulling out his cane and twirling it thoughtfully in his hands. The gold tip caught the dim light and sparkled faintly as it spun. "Barbara didn't make this decision," he answered carefully, deliberately, without looking up to return the sharp glare he knew he was receiving. "I did. I decided that this was the best use of my skills, and it just so happens that now is the best time to make it work."

"Spot, c'mon," Race argued. His tone didn't show how desperate he was, but his words certainly did. "Ya said yourself it easily coulda been you. Just stay here til dis whole t'ing blows over."

Spot's eyes narrowed, but his gaze remained on the cane in his hands. "I can't do that, Tim. That would be cowardly. If we stoop to their level, if we respond to their threats… Well, then, they win. And I'll be hanged if I let the likes of him get the advantage over me."

Another silence descended on them, but this one was much less intense. Spot's words hung indignant in the air, signaling some kind of resolution between them. Race seemed to be floundering for something else to say. "Fine," he sputtered at last, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. "Go on an' go. See if I care. Ain't like I need ya here, anyway, lookin' over my shoulder all'a time. But just so's we're clear, I think you's a right prick for leavin' like dis."

Without waiting for a reply, Race turned and stormed off down the hall, the sounds of his retreating footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise-silent mansion. Spot let out a deep breath, his chest humming softly as Race's words rolled around in his head. So the little Italian thought he was a prick. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment, letting the words fall right out of his thoughts. After all, it wasn't the first time Race had told him his decisions were poor – in similar terms. And it probably wouldn't be the last.

Besides, he knew he was doing the right thing.

A/N: Oh, I so wanted them to come to blows by the end of this, but sadly Race was in more of a pouty mood than a fighting one, which left Spot to initiate, and that would have totally blown all character development that he's had this entire story right out the window. Of course we can't have that, but don't worry. Race is much feistier in the sequel, so there will be plenty of action.

Alright, a couple of things. First off, I have decided not to do an epilogue. Originally I was toying with the idea of ending it the way it started, with a first-person POV epilogue like the prologue. But I'm afraid I might not have enough material. So, to keep with the whole full-circle idea, I'm just going to do the last chapter entirely in first-person (seeing as how I'm also out of things for Race to say in his opening monologue). Which brings me nicely to another point. The next chapter will, in fact, be the last chapter of this story. Now, that does not mean that the story is, in fact, over. Oh, far from it! I'm going to start working on Take a Dive right away (I already have the first chapter done!), which kinda takes place during the first half of this one, and I'll also be working sporadically on Ghosts at the same time (though I won't actually be posting it until Take a Dive is finished), which takes place something like six months after. Keep an eye out, because Take a Dive will be posted in the Newsies category, while Ghosts will be posted in the Batman Begins/Dark Knight category. Actually, as a matter of fact, I don't think I'm posting another story in the crossover category until Hush, which is WAAAAAY down the line. So anyhow, I hope you guys have enjoyed this as much as I have, and I hope you are as excited as I am. Please review!