For Brooklyn

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Eleven: A miracle, that.

Summary: "If someone out there is strong nuff to soak Brooklyn..." The manhattan boys have their work cut out for them- to take care of the handful of surviving Brooklyn newsies, keep their turf and men safe...and send out a rescue party to save one Spot Conlon...and Brooklyn with him.

Disclaimer: No. I. Do. Not. OWN. Blah.

A/n: FIRST Newsie fic! Please be nice and give me credit? Ok?

Warning: Blood and maybe more torture is ahead in the rest of this story. Please be wary if that stuff offends you. Thanks!

Guys, this story isnt going to be much longer AT ALL. Its almost over!

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"Weakness. How I'se hate that word. To show weakness means youse a sissy, and I'se no sissy; Im Brooklyn. Ya hear me? IM Brooklyn. And Brooklyn neva falls." - Spot

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Well, the good news was they had gotten Spot out of the tub before he died of hypothermia, the bad news? They had to keep going up the stairs to make sure he hadn't killed himself.

Seriously, the leader of Brooklyn had taken a liking to sharp objects and anything that had a blade. Crutchy had nearly had a heart-attack when he had went upstairs with the other's lunch, and found the boy on the bed, slashing his wrists with a bread knife.

Ever since then Jack decreed Spot was to have someone with him every time of the day, every day. It didnt matter, somehow he would sneak away, blend away for a second, and then it was open season on his arms.

He had nearly died once, but David had found him bleeding on the ground behind the house and took him to the nearest doctor, who bandaged him up and gave everyone a stern lecture on NOT leaving him alone.

Didnt matter now.

"Come on, Spot..." Jack didnt know what to do. He was sitting beside the other newsie, David on the other side. The leader of Brooklyn was staring down at the ground in between his legs, eyes glassy and half lidded. He had cried until there weren't any tears left. He had tried to kill himself until that failed. It was weeks later and Spot...Spot was now...

Now he was slightly catatonic.

"Spot, Red wouldn't have wanted you to do this. He would have wanted you to go on living." The room silenced, hoping that would get a rise out of Spot.

No such luck.

Normally that would have gotten David a solid punch to his jaw, but not this time. Spot just shivered, pulling his head down a little and hugging himself tighter.

The newsies around the room could only stare in shock at what had become of Spot Conlon. He was Brooklyn, the man most of them feared...How could one death shake him this much? Granted, it was Red, but...

"Please, man..." Jack started, but something cut him off.

The door opened and complete silence fell, everyone's eyes fixed upon the door. Except for Spot, of course, who was still gazing at the ground and yet past the ground at the same time. As if he could see into the very bowels of the earth itself, or maybe into Hell. Yeah, Hell would be good. He could jump headfirst into Hell, he could-

"Spot." It was a soft whisper, but it made his head slam up in shock.

Red stood in the door.

Spot didnt even remember moving, but suddenly he had thrown his arms around Red, head burrowed in his shirt, sobbing hysterically. "God...Red...!"He didnt care if he was a ghost, an apparition, a made up vision he had created! It didn't matter, because it was HIM.

Red smiled softly, patting his back soothingly. "Its okay, Spot...Im here, im here and I aint goin no where." It startled him to see the other like this, broken and vulnerable. He didnt think he mattered so much.

Jack stared in complete shock, everyone was. If Spot had run at thin air, they would have called him mad. If a few of the newsies around had seen Red, then they were all insane. But for the entire room to see him, hear him, alive...?

That wasn't madness, that was reality.

Denton stepped in after him, shutting the door with a soft click. He raised his hand and smiled broadly at the leader of Manhattan. "Alive all this time!" He reported, "A little healing and...POOF, a miracle!" He waved his arms grandly, indicating the apparently alive Red, whom Spot, apparently, was trying to choke back to death.

It was indeed a miracle. But before they could celebrate, they all waited to see how one of their number would take the redhead coming back to life.

It was a few minutes later, when Spot's sobbing had died down, that the younger pulled back and promptly punched the other so hard he staggered backwards into a table.

"What was DAT FOR!" Red cried, holding his jaw in shock.

"If you EVER scare me like that again, im gonna KILL YOU!" Spot cried, eyes flashing silver blue as he clenched his hands at his sides."I WAS CRYING FOR YOU, YOU...YOU..."

"Handsome? Tough? Rugged?" He laughed, striking a pose, "Dashing? Smart? Oh, I know, Wonderful man?"

"...STUPID IDIOT!" He came at him in a blur, "STUPID STUPID STUPID IDIOT!"

The entire room was silent for a moment and then burst out laughing as Red kicked out, sweeping Spot's legs out from under him and starting a brotherly scuffle on the floor with lots of mock punches and fake injuries.

Denton came over to sit next to David, his hat in his hands. "A pure miracle, that. Bullet missed his heart by a hair's breath. A mere half a centimeter closer and he would have been six-feet under by now."

"Well, ya know what they say." David laughed, "God only calls home those who he needs. Obviously Red aint done here yet."

Jack looked at him from the corner of his eye, taking in the white bandage that still wrapped around his thin neck, hiding the red scar from the wire that might always be there. Few of his men had come out with any injuries at all, come to think of it. Scrapes, cuts, certainly, but out of Manhattan, he and David had received the worst of it.

"Ill give you one guess." He said cryptically, in response to the earlier comment. There was only one reason why Red would be needed here for any longer after all he had achieved.

That would be for Spot.

"Well, I better go." The reporter got to his feet, "I'll see you guys around, eh?"

"Thanks, Denton!" The newsies around the room cried, those who werent riveted on the brawl that was. The man tipped his hat and was gone, leaving the boys by themselves.

Jack and David smiled at each other as both sides, Manhattan and Brooklyn started to call out encouragement and cat calls to the two fighting boys.

"Nice to have things back to normal, eh?" David laughed.

"MATTHEW CHRISTOPHER "SPOT" CONLON!" Red managed in between his fits of laughter, "GET OFF ME!"

"GAH!" Spot yelled, "DON'T CALL ME DAT!"

Cowboy shook his head, pulling his hat onto his head and tipping it to hide his eyes as he leaned back, "Always, Davey. Always."

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THE END!

Just kidding! Come back and read the epilogue ya slackers! It'll be great fun, trust me! And a surprise...