Disclaimer: I don't own the original Newsies characters.

Jack pushed away his plate and threw the napkin on the table

"You boys ready to go?" he asked, standing up out of the chair. It was noon and the newsies were on lunch break. Racetrack had decided he was up to selling today. Though he had a bruised eye and swollen lip, he still said he felt peachy.

Specs and Mush sucked up their petty fears and nodded.

"Now, you'se guys don't get in any fights," Racetrack warned teasingly. They didn't laugh.

"Yeah, we might not see you again if ya do," Skittery called from the end of the table. Jack smirked while waiting by the door.

Mush gave Skittery a glare as the threesome exited the diner.

"How many times have you guys actually been to Brooklyn?" Jack asked he walked down an alley that was part of the route.

"Probably once or twice. Usually you just got to check up with Spot," Mush replied, grabbing a stick that was leaning against a garbage can.

Specs nodded. "And the time we has been was when we'se were attackin' dem," he said with a frown.

Jack smiled. "I remember that. We always got soaked pretty good 'cause of dose darn slingshots."

Mush grimaced at the memories. "I like havin' a alliance with em much better."

Specs nodded in agreement, kicking a can out of his way. They walked in silence for more than half the way, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Jack, are you really afraid of Spot?" Mush asked out of the blue. Jack shrugged.

"Nah. We're more like friends than enemies," he replied. Specs looked at him with doubt.

"Why should we be afraid of him then?" Mush asked.

"Who said you hafta be afraid of him?" Jack asked, giving Mush a sideway glance. "Just respect him for who he is."

Jack looked ahead, shading his eyes with a hand. "'Sides, you should do that with everyone. Spot earns whatever people say and feel about him, just like anyone else."

"He's kind of over-rated, isn't he?," Specs mused. Jack laughed.

"In some ways," he replied.

"So's, you got any idea of what Spot's up too?" Mush asked, changing the subject.

"I dunno. Just hope it ain't nothing serious like him going against 'Hattan," Jack replied with a creased brow.

"That'd be kind of random," Specs remarked.

"What if he gives a stupid reason for beating up Race?" Mush questioned, a brief flame of anger lighting up his eyes.

"Well then I gave you full permission to go at 'im with your fists," Jack said with a smug smile and adding, "At your own risk, of course."

Mush grinned at this.

"No thanks. I like my face the way it is," Specs said with a shudder.

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Danny sat down on a wooden box and watched as Spot purchased his papers. His feet danced on the cobblestone as he waited. He was anxious. And not just to sell papers.

"Come on," Spot said while passing him. Danny jumped up and followed after him.

"Where'd ya go last night, Spot?" Danny asked, gripping his newspapers tighter. Spot glanced to the left and then to the right. He didn't say anything.

"Come on, Spot. Tell me!" Danny cried. He felt like he was going to barf from his guilty conscience.

"I went ta 'Hattan," Spot replied evenly. Danny swallowed at his reply.

"So's, I was thinking 'bout what you said last night, Danny," Spot then said casually. Danny looked up in fright. "Do you think the rest of Manhattan thinks of me the way Race thinks of me?" he continued in a thoughtful manner, sticking a cigar in his mouth.

Danny shook his head. "No, no," he quickly replied. Spot gave him a questioning look by didn't say anything to continue the conversation.

The two boys went on selling as the morning progressed. The streets of Brooklyn were packed as folks hurried to work and shopped at the street vendors. Danny couldn't stand the noises. It seemed like ten people were yelling ten different things, Spot being the only newsie. There was laughter and screaming, and people running and knocking over things. It was worse than Manhattan. Danny kept near Spot, trying to watch everything around him at once while Spot hawked.

"Spot!" he heard someone yell from behind. Danny glanced over his shoulder. Spot was dishing out papers to two customers when Jack and two other newsie boys were approaching them. Danny stared at the boys in horror. When Spot had finished, he turned to patiently waiting newsies.

"Hey Jack," Spot greeted, spitting in his hand then holding it out. Jack took one glance at the his hand and then looked up with a glare. Spot pulled back his hand, insulted.

Jack gave a dark glance in Danny's direction who took a step back with his eyes wide.

"Oh, dat's right. You came to apologize," Spot remembered, setting down his papers. His smile had disappeared. "It would been nice if Racetrack had decided to show his face."

Jack crossed his arms. "He would of. Just can't walk at da moment," he said icily.

"Serves him right," Spot said, fingering his cane. Danny watched as Jack took a step forward with a balled fist, but quickly restrained himself, forcing his fist down at his side. Spot looked up and eyed the two newsies behind Jack. Danny faintly remembered one being Mush and the other being called something like Glasses.

They met Spot's gaze boldly.

"So? You just don't go beating people up!" Jack said, prodding for an answer.

"Oh really? Look who's talkin'," Spot replied with a humored smile. This time Mush put a hand on Jack's arm to hold him back.

"What'd Racetrack ever do to you?" Jack asked through gritted teeth. That's when Spot started look irriated. He stood up straighter.

"I won't have anyone callin' me a wimp, even if its one of your boys," Brooklyn fumed, taking a step closer and jabbing his cane into Jack's chest.

"And who said dat?" Jack also took a step forward, leaving little room between the two leaders. Spot took a step back with a sneer on his lips. He pointed his cane in Danny's direction. Their gazes flew to the little boy with brown bangs covering his fawn-like eyes and red heating his face.

"I was wonderin' what you were doin' in Brooklyn, you little rat," Jack said grimly. Mush wasn't holding back Jack now and Danny debated if he should make a run for it. But instead, fear locked his legs and he could do nothing but stare up at the cowboy as he approached with determined steps. This was not suppose to happen, this was definitely not suppose to happen.

"Now, hold up, Jacky-boy. Danny was just informin' me of what really goes on in Manhattan. Nothin' wrong wid dat," Spot in a low tone, pushing Jack back with the cane across his chest. Jack looked over at Spot with irritation, pushing away the cane as it were an annoying fly.

"I'd like ta know what the brat said about us," Mush spoke up now. Glasses nodded, his eyes staring Danny down like he was an ant roasting on the sidewalk. Danny did a quick scan around the circle. They were all expecting an answer. His eyes rested on Spot. He gave a encouraging nod. Danny sucked in a breath, forcing his face to contort into a stuck-up expression.

"I was just tellin' him about how you guys all talk bad about Brooklyn," he replied simply, keeping his fear at bay. His mother really should of took him to Broadway with her.

"That's a lie, and you know it!" Specs burst out.

"You believe this kid?!" Jack said incredulously, turning to Spot.

"Why shouldn't I?" Spot riposted, crossing his arms.

"Uh, maybe because he only spent one day with us!" Mush replied hotly, looking at Danny maliciously.

"Only one day?" Spot repeated with a frown, tapping his cane against his open palm.

"What did he say to you, Spot?" Jack demanded, not even willing himself to look at Danny in case he lost his temper completely.

"He just repeated some stuff that Racetrack said. Making fun of me," Spot said slowly, as if it were embarrassing.

"And so you went to go beat up Racetrack? Just because of what some street rat said to ya?!"

"Well, 'cuse me, but someone gotta teach your boys some respect!" Spot sneered suddenly. Danny looked around for a place to hide. The Manhattan newsies seemed about ready to slit somebody's throat.

"My boys give respect where respect is due!" Jack spat.

"I ain't got time for this. You come back when you'se ready to apologize for your boys and your attitude," Spot said, spitting on the ground.

"We ain't got nothing to say sorry for!" Jack exclaimed while Spot turned on his heel. "You're the one who has to apologize!" Danny knew it was only Jack's pride that kept him there with his newsies instead of chasing after Spot.

"Spot, wait!" Specs called hesitantly. Spot kept walking, Danny nervously on his tail. "We gotta figure this out!" Specs tried again. Brooklyn stopped briefly and turned with a look of contempt on his face. His chin jutted out in rebellion as he turned and ambled on. When Spot's back was turned, Danny looked behind him again and stuck out his tongue at the trio of newsies. Specs lunged after the boy, but Jack grabbed him before he could reach Danny. He smiled and waved pleasantly at Jack before turning and walking back to their selling spot with Spot.

xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It had been a couple of days since Racetrack's "meeting" with Spot. He knew that Jack and a couple other newsies had gone to see the Brooklyn leader, but no one had enlightened him with the outcome of the visit. Racetrack was half-afraid to ask.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, Racetrack decided to make the inquiry. Since he hadn't made it to the races, he woke up with the rest of the newsies. Of course, Jack was gone, so Racetrack decided to ask Specs instead. He approached the glass-eyed newsie just as he was brushing out his hair.

"Heya, Race," Specs said with a smile. He was looking at Race's reflection in the mirror as he talked.

"So's, Specs, what happened with Spot?" Racetrack asked after some hesitation. Spec's smile disappeared as he put down the small comb.

"Nothing good, I'll tell ya dat much," Specs sighed and put on his cap. "Spot says we-well...you were talking trash about him." Racetrack looked at Specs with disbelief written all over his face.

"It's true. He says dat he needed to teach you some respect for Brooklyn. Dat's why he went and beat you up." Specs was watching closely for his friend's reaction. Racetrack ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

"You believe him, Specs?" he asked quietly, looking the other newsie in the eye. Worry creased Racetrack's brow.

"I dunno...I mean, you were joking about whatever you said, right?" Specs replied, avoiding Racetrack's eyes.

"Of course!" Racetrack cried. Several of the other boys looked over to the pair. "You know I wouldn't talk bad about Spot in a serious way." Racetrack could feel his defenses rising.

"Dat's not what Danny says..." Specs muttered in reply. Racetrack stared at him.

"Dan-Danny was there?" he stuttered.

"The runt ran to the Brooklyn newsies and told em everyting you said." Specs grunted. "Why? I have no idea..." he added, rolling his eyes. Racetrack swallowed a rising lump in his throat.

"Everything?" he whispered, clutching the counter top.

"Yep. Probably blew up what you said too," Specs replied. He tugged down on his hat with a sigh. "Well, I'se gots to go," Specs then said. He thumped Racetrack on the back. "Dun worry about dis, Race. It'll blow over soon enough." Specs gave him a reassuring smile before leaving the washroom. Racetrack had barely heard him. His mind was running over every single little thing that he had said to Danny in the past. Then, something struck him.

"The bet..." Racetrack said to himself. He drew in a sharp breath. Their alliance with Brooklyn was dissolved because Racetrack had decided to take advantage of a stupid kid? He walked slowly out of the washroom. His eyes were glazed over in thought.

Why hadn't Jack said anything about it? It was all Racetrack's fault and Jack hadn't even come to question him.

"Jack doesn't...know." Racetrack sat on his bunk and put his head in his hands. If Jack had known, Racetrack would of been dead by now. Musing, he hardly noticed the sound of the other newsies exiting the room. His mind couldn't process the fact that he also needed to go buy his papers. No, that was the least of his worries at the moment. He flopped back on the mattress. His eyes stared up at the bunk above his own. What should he do? If he didn't tell Jack, then the cowboy would only assume that Danny was getting back at him for the night Danny had tried to stay at the lodging house. Then surely, just as Specs said, things would blow over soon. Racetrack was going to sigh with relief, but then another horrible thought occurred. What if Danny had already told Spot of the bet? Then Jack would know eventually. Why would Danny do that though? Racetrack knew Spot would never endorse something like a kid just trying to get revenge. Then he let out a breath of relief. He stood up off the bed and straightened out his vest. The bunk room was now deserted. His footsteps resounded as went down the stairs. All the way to the distribution center, Racetrack tried to push away the nagging feelings of doubt and convince himself that what he was doing was the right thing. 'Stop it, Race. As long as you keep your big mouth shut, things will be fine.' he thought determinedly. He then put on a happy and carefree front as he ambled over to the line of newsboys.

As the unorganized line preceded, Racetrack ended up next to David. Racetrack noticed that Les wasn't with his brother for once. He looked to the very back of the line and saw the kid playing with a small group of younger newsies.

"How ya doing, Davey?" Racetrack inquired, looking back at David now. David tore his gaze away from the entrance of the center where Jack was. He shrugged carelessly. "Fine," was all he muttered.

"Did you guys ever work things out?" Racetrack's question startled David. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"We don't have anything to work out," David replied, once more glancing at Jack. The cowboy was talking in low tones to Mush. Race was curious as to what they were saying, but focused his attention on David.

"It hasn't got anything to do with me, Racetrack. It's all between Sarah and him." David answered and moved forward a couple steps with the line.

"Yeah, but you and Jack were friends before all that happened and now you two hardly talk to each other." Racetrack hated the way David smiled at his concern.

"I can't be friends with someone who hurts my sister, Higgins," David replied before stepping up to buy his papers. Racetrack gave him a flat glare.

"What about everything he did for her during the strike?" Racetrack called after David when he had bought his own papers. Racetrack's loud voice caused many heads to turn, including Kelly's. Racetrack tried to catch up with David, but the boy's long legs were too fast and soon Racetrack was left alone in the distribution center with Jack and a few other newsies staring curiously at him. When Racetrack strode past the cowboy angrily, he said before Jack could say anything, "I know! I know! Just stay out of your business." Jack smiled half-heartedly and tagged after the gambler.

"I wasn't gonna say that," Jack replied, socking Racetrack in the arm playfully.

Racetrack looked over at his friend. "Then what were ya gonna say?"

Jack smirked. "Okay, maybe I was gonna say that," here Racetrack rolled his eyes, "but, I should say thanks for sticking up for me."

"Darn right." Racetrack shook his head with a small laugh. His smile slowly faded, though, as they continued down the road in silence. Jack was keeping his head down, but Racetrack knew he was eager to know what David had said. 'Eager with dread," thought Racetrack.

"He said that he can't be friends with someone who hurts his sister, Jack," he said finally, breaking the silence between them. Jack looked up slowly. Race wished he hadn't of said anything, for the heartbreak was clear in Jack's eyes.

"Sorry, Jack... I-"

"First Spot, now this," Jack interrupted in a tired voice. A pang of guilt hit Race in the stomach. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Race looked down at his worn out boots and clamped his mouth shut.

"Just when things start lookin' good, everything explodes on me." Jack's laugh was dry and mocking. "Whadda ya think happened with that Danny kid?" Jack's questioned. "I said I was sorry for yelling at him!" Racetrack swallowed. "You spent a lot of time with him, Higgins. What went down?" Jack tossed him a sudden accusing glare. Racetrack knew Jack was mad whenever he would call him Higgins. The thing was, Race didn't know if Jack was really mad at him or if hearing what Davod had said had put him in a foul mood. Either way, it was Racetrack's fault.

"He's just a callow kid, Jack. I'm sure he'll realize that what's he doing is wrong soon," Racetrack lied with a false smile and then directed his eyes in front of him. Although he and Jack had been friends for a long time, Jack still never knew when Racetrack was lying. Lying was one of Race's many talents that came in handy with gambling and card games, but one that he didn't usually use around his friends and fellow newsies. Jack studied his face for a moment.

"You're probably right. I shouldn't worry about Spot. He's got a good head on his shoulders," Jack finally said. Race nodded slowly in agreement and then waved goodbye as the two departed to their own selling spots; one with an assured attitude about him and the other with a guilt-heavy heart.

Lol, this poor chapter has undergone so many revisions.

Just'd like to thank...

lilnewsie77! Yay! If anything, I'm glad you're reading this story and enjoying it. :D

Remember, reviews are loverly.