WARNING: These oneshots are not for the faint of heart. They are real, raw emotion and reality from children who are abused sexually by people they thought they could trust. I am not going to dance around the subject matter. I am going to be real with you. If you feel you cannot handle it, then I appreciate it, I know that, and I accept it. But these things need to be written. You need to know what it's like every day for these kids, voiceless from the monsters that control their lives and make them powerless. If you've been abused, then you can sympathize easily with Lissa. If you haven't, then you cannot possibly imagine the pain. Thank you.

S.O.S

Chapter Four

May 27, 1896

She's gone, he thought. She'd been gone for almost three now. He had no idea where she was. No idea she was even gone until he turned around and she wasn't following. He tried to backtrack through the mob, but she was long gone by then.

But he kept good on his word. He became a newsboy, just in case she ever wanted to come and find him again. He got a little nervous, though, when the boys took to calling him Spot shortly after joining, because he stayed at the same damn spot on the sidewalk everyday after selling his papers, looking for his Lissa, playing with the secret key around his neck, hoping she'd come back.

But she never did.

He had some friends now, even a best friend who called himself Silver because he was always admiring the pure silver pocket watches of the older gentleman he liked selling his papers to.

Slowly, Sean Albert Conlon, no, Spot Conlon was becoming cold. He was growing rather infamous for his frosty glares and regardless of his age, he had a commanding presence that demanded people to respect him. He didn't take slack from the older boys who thought it appropriate to pick on the younger ones. He even stood up for a few of his fellow newsboys, getting in the face of boys twice his size because of it.

This boldness earned him quite a few shiners, cracked ribs and an assortment of bruises, but he didn't give up. He kept getting up when people knocked him down, and some may have called him foolish, but he paid them no mind.

He wanted to be so well-known that word would get around to wherever Lissa was, and he'd find her again. As always, everything he did, he did for her, because of her.

Eventually, he gave up standing on that street corner to look for Lissa, since Ace, the current Brooklyn leader, announced to everyone that he was going to take his girl Annie Parks and marry her. He'd all ready asked for her father's blessing, which he got, with one condition: he had to quit being a newsie and get a 'real' job.

Ace didn't have a real second-in-command, since he was training up a bunch of the boys to become the best fighters, to carry on the proud name that came along with the large gaggle of newsies. But Ace did hint that he was hoping Spot would take his place, even being as young as he was.

But when Ace left, none of the older boys wanted some short, fourteen-year-old kid telling them what to do. It was unthinkable, and they wouldn't stand for it. The political state of Brooklyn was a constant upheaval. Every borough was on edge and skirted their way around Brooklyn when possible. Civil war was not a way to live, and the newsies were getting restless, floundering without a leader.

Spot decided that it was now or never. And he decided now rather than later.

So he declared himself official unofficial leader of the Brooklyn newsies. And faced the brunt of it afterwards, constantly looking over his shoulder, fighting for his life because it seemed that everyone wanted to jump him after that.

But he beat down his most fierce competition with a thorough soaking in front of the rest of the newsies, and the not-so-fierce opponents were cowed under the rest of the newsies' cheers and ready agreements that Spot Conlon could indeed rule Brooklyn, whether they liked that he was fourteen or not.

Once officially crowned King, Spot Conlon retreated further into himself, becoming a ghost, an enigma, the man everyone fear, respected, and even admired, but only from afar, because Spot Conlon was not someone you got close to. It was impossible, regardless of how many gorgeous girls paraded themselves in front of him, draped themselves over him, offered to work their 'magic' free of charge.

But he'd have none of it. He only had eyes for one girl, and that girl was gone. And so, just as she was gone, he was gone as well. Curled up inside himself, locked up with a silver skeleton key, waiting for her to come bursting back into his life and come running back into his arms where she belonged.

She never did.

:-:-:-:-:

August 10, 1893

Lissa watched him. He was skilled, obviously, and his casual nonchalance was amusing. He winked at her and she grinned from her hiding place. He was so funny! She watched as he approached his target, a larger gentleman who was inspected books of poetry outside a bookstore.

Dodger feigned a rather pitiful looking limp and knocked right into the older gentleman, apologizing profusely when the book was knocked from the man's hand. The man just smiled cheerfully, bending to pick the book up, patting Dodge on the shoulder because it really was no big deal.

But she saw Dodger reach in and relieve the man of his shiny pocket watch. He quickly stuffed the trinket into his vest pocket and tipped his hat congenially as he walked away. He gripped her elbow and steered her away, never breaking stride. They rounded a corner and broke off into a run, sprinting a few blocks before ducking into his alleyway and he grinned, pulling the watch out for her to admire.

"That was great!" Lissa crowed, taking the watch from him with delight. She turned it around in her hand and then snapped it open, admiring the face of the watch. It was so expensive!

She and Dodger had made an unsteady alliance. He agreed to teach her pick pocketing and she gave him half of her day's earnings. Lissa was forcing herself to improve, because she didn't want to be lorded over by this boy. He was a year older than her and it still made her nervous.

Sean had been gone for nearly a month and she was working very hard on trying to be all right with the male race, but it was weird still. She slept in Dodger's alley with him, in his box castle, which was helpful. At least it was almost completely dry.

And she'd made some friends with the newsies nearby in Manhattan. It was a large place, Manhattan, so she mulled around with Dodger, trying her hand at picking pockets, and then went off to find the newsies, who were always ready for fun and always seemed so welcoming.

Of course, the only bad thing was they didn't know she was a girl. Only Dodger knew, and he'd told her that it would be better if everyone thought she was a boy. Dodger told her that everyone would treat her different if she was a girl; they'd want to watch out for her, fight for her.

Lissa definitely didn't like that idea, so when Dodger found her an old cap, she took to stuffing her hair up under it and started talking regularly in a throaty rasp of a voice, trying to sound like a boy. Every time she talked in her 'boy' voice around the newsies, Dodger would stifle laughter because she was trying too hard. The newsies never suspected a thing, of course. They took her, or him rather, in stride and didn't treat her any different.

Lissa was glad. She wanted to prove to herself that she could be just a tough as the boys. She was learning to fend for herself, she could stand up for herself rather well. The only thing she lacked was good fighting skills, but she decided to hone those later. They weren't her priority.

By hanging around the newsies, Lissa hoped she would find Sean. Perhaps he was good on his word and became a newsboy like he said he was going to. But no matter how long she mulled around with the Manhattaners, she never saw Sean.

The day she met Medda was a day Lissa never forgot. It was nearly a year after the day she'd lost Sean. It is the funniest sensation when you try to be someone you're not in front of someone new, and they can see right through you. Medda dismissed Jack instantly from her dressing room and gave Lissa a funny look.

"Why are you pretending to be a boy?" she asked. Lissa nearly fell right over.

"What?" she choked. "I am a boy."

Medda pulled her cap off, allowing the strawberry blond hair to fall from its messy knot on top of her head. Lissa looked sheepishly at her feet. Medda gave her a stern look.

"Girls should not be living on the streets, you know," Medda said.

Lissa shrugged. "I like it. Never had to fend for myself. I don't like being told what to do," she said simply.

Medda smiled. "What do you say about giving me a chance? I have this lovely house downtown and would love for you to join my dancing troupe."

"Dancing?" Lissa wrinkled her nose. "I can't dance."

Medda smiled. "Well, then just come live with me. Anything is better than sleeping in alleyways, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "I guess you're right," she admitted and then sighed. "I would like to sleep in a bed again."

"Then will you come and live with me?"

"Sure."

Jack barged back into the room and his jaw dropped when he saw Lissa's long hair. She smiled sheepishly at him.

"You're a girl!" he shouted.

Lissa grinned. "No kiddin'?" she teased and Jack came over to hug her, laughing.

Three years later, when Lissa was fourteen years old, she was sitting in the Lodging House in Manhattan, when Jack came in, grinning.

"Boys, I just heard that Brooklyn got a new leader!" he exclaimed, and everyone seemed excited by the news.

Lissa hadn't even known that Brooklyn needed a new leader.

"So who is he, Jack?" Racetrack asked, sitting beside Lissa with his arm around her shoulder, smoking a cigar. Jack grinned.

"His name is Spot."

Wow, that's it. I probably should've drawn it out more, but I wanted to hit the main points. I wanted to explain some things about them, give some background. And I've done that. Woot!

So. That means that it's time for the ending of the trilogy, yeah? You all are chomping at the bit for me to post it, aren't you? Wow, I get some sick fascination out of making my fans suffer. Sort of. At least I'm not a terrible author who never updates for weeks at a time (cough)RiotAct(cough). Teehee. :)

That being said, I shall end this Author's Note. And as promised to Elaine, I shall post a snippet of CHESS as a new chapter of this story. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT REVIEW CHAPTER FIVE. It is not for you to review. Simply read it, drool, and pray that I post it sooner rather than later. Review this chapter. If you review next chapter, I will kill Spot. Don't think I won't. I'll write it into the story; he will die painfully and slowly. I'm not kidding.

CTB!

xx Wicked

PS- I've posted the link to the summer fanfiction contest on my profile. Vote for me perhaps? (I'm pushing for best couple but I'm not being picky or nothin'... C: )