Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, Disney does. I own Sport, Clara "Bell" MacDunn, and Brandon and Emmaline. I do not own Alley, Lilyanatos does.

(A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews Nalana :D I named one of the characters in here Galinda, a little after the witch in Wicked just for you. :) Thanks for the review, NotThereWithAPurpose, glad you like the story so far. :D)

"If you had to choose between Spot or Race as a husband who would you choose?" Alley questioned two days later as she laid out a pair of fresh clothes for Fred. Today was a big day - Fred had finally gotten Kloppman's nephew's okay to go out of the lodging house.

She was standing up in middle of the room as Alley held clothes up on her back to see if they could fit or not.

Fred blinked, where had that question come from? Choose a husband? Marriage wasn't something she was sure she could even think or deal with anytime soon let alone love.....She had been in love with Brandon when she was 16, the two had grown up on the streets together, they trusted each other and always had each others' backs. Then the guy she had almost given her heart to shot her. Trusting Race and Alley was hard enough, she trusted both of them....But she trusted Racetrack more for some reason. Maybe it was because he reminded her of herself? Doing whatever he could do to survive without selling himself out.

Alley had a good head on her shoulders and Fred liked her a lot, the girl was extremely strong. But as for 'I trust you with my life?' Fred trusted no one like that but Tom. He had worked incredibly hard to earn that trust too. Race, strangely, was almost there but not quite. Spot was far from it.

"I don't really plan on falling in love anytime soon, so overall, it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Alley replied before draping one of Spot's shirts over her bunk. Fred frowned, why was it that Spot's clothing always fit her best?

"I like Race as a good friend, Spot...He's not as much of a jerk as he was a few days ago, I'll admit he is getting better. But....Love? I don't think so. Not for a long time."

"You know," Alley said as he pressed a pair of pants to Fred's back, "You're not going to have a choice when the time comes and your heart chooses and ignores your head."

"My heart has its own fortress," Fred replied.

"And the walls are going to come crashing down," replied Alley.

Fred shrugged before quickly moving onto another subject, "So whose this Medda everyone's talking about?"

"Medda is an amazing woman who owns Irving Hall in Manhattan," Alley replied, "I sing for her every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night. She lets newsies in for free every Thursday night for a show and dinner."

"How did you all come to know her?"

"Jack knew her, actually, then before the strike he introduced Spot to Medda, and soon Medda invited the newsies every Thursday to Irving Hall. However, the rule is that Irving Hall is neutral grounds, in other words if newsies are fighting they're going to have to pretend to like each other for one night each week or just not show up."

"She has security?"

"She didn't used too, but now she does. When the strike was going on Pulitzer hired some thugs to beat us and haul us off to the refuge for a night. Then tried to turn Jack into a traitor and scab, he nearly did too but after some trouble with the Delanceys he got his head on straight again," Alley smiled.

"He's a good guy."
"Yes, that he is," Alley replied, "Alright, all of Spot's clothing looks like it will fit you. One or two of Sport's clothing might, and a pair of my clothing should. Take your pick, I'll be sitting on the steps when you're ready."

"Thanks," Fred smiled before Alley walked out. When the door shut behind her she looked at the four sets of clothing and chose Spot's. It fit most comfortably, if that newsie said anything, anything at all, she'd twist that tweaky nose off his face.

She changed into Spot's blue shirt and brown corduroys and walked out into the hallway for the first time on her own. She stared in amazement, the hallway was narrow and creaked with each footstep. There were Five doors on this level, the last being the door she had walked out of. It wasn't until she heard footsteps above her she realized there was a third level, she looked up to a staircase and saw a tall and burly guy around her age quickly rush down the stairs. He froze and stared at her.

His eyes were ocean blue and intense, his hair as black as a midsummer's night, his face was square and chiseled. Her heart began to pound, he was around Spot's height, but maybe taller. His face resembled Charlie's from Numb3rs.

"Um...Hi."

"Hey dere," he exclaimed cracking a smile, "Youse must be Fred, I'se Sport."

Sport, Spot's second in command, Fred thought to herself. Good gosh, the kid was....He was....beautiful, if that term was acceptable with males. Maybe he wasn't an alpha-male and wouldn't care? Why did she care if he cared?

"I-I've heard a lot about you, it's nice to meet you, Sport," Fred smiled as she held out her hand, he smiled before giving it a sturdy handshake.

"Tough grip says youse strong in mind and spirit," Sport exclaimed, "So deys gettin' youse ready for da walk to Manhattan?"

"Yeah, I have to admit I'm glad to finally be out of bed and walking," she smiled.

"Gotta warn youse," Sport exclaimed, "It's a long walk, longah than youse remembah I'se shoah. But knowin' Spot youse awll will leave at least an hour early so youse can take some breaks."

"Erm..Yeah...Breaks....I'm in need...Of...Breaks....I'm....Sure....Though I mean I've walked a lot, but...Yeah..." What the hell was wrong with her?! She couldn't even speak! She never acted this silly around anyone, she reminded herself of a giggly school girl with her first crush.

Sport paused and gave a smirk, "Yeah it was hard foah me da foist time too walkin' ta Manhattan den back ta Brooklyn awll in one night. But youse get used to it, soon ya won't even notice da walk. Now a walk from Manhattan ta Harlem, dat youse notice."

"You're dressed, hello Sport," Alley greeted with a smile.

"Heya Als, how's it rollin'?" Sport greeted.

"I was about to ask you the same, Spot's been looking everywhere for you."

"Again? I'se just got back from da Bronx."

"When he was nominating a new second in command last year you took it upon yourself to work the hardest and make yourself indispensable, don't look at me," Alley replied.

"Was me own fault," Sport smirked before leaning forward and placing a small kiss on Alley's cheek.

Red. That was the only color Fred could see at the moment. She blinked and quickly forced herself out of her daze. No! She didn't know this guy she was not going to have some sort of immature feelings for him, she wouldn't! For all she knew he could be a killer during the night who killed girls like her and hid his true self from Alley and Spot so well they weren't suspecting of him...

...He glanced at her, maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

She blinked, she needed to get away from him, as fast as she could, there was something seriously wrong with her emotions whenever she got near him.

"So where's da royal pain?" Sport questioned.

Fred couldn't help but do a double take, "You find him a pain in the ass too?"

Alley looked up and gave Fred a hard glare that said 'don't curse.'

"Spot's da biggest pain in da...ah...Rear, youse will find in Brooklyn, but dat ain't a bad t'ing," Sport exclaimed, "In Brooklyn, da tougher youse ah, da higher chances youse won't be boddered...However ya gotta have brains wid dem muscles or youse life expectancy drops dramatically," he said before looking over to Alley.

"He's out behind the lodging house...."

Sport's eyes suddenly filled with sadness, he nodded, "Alright, I'se will wait till he's done."

Fred watched him walk away, "He looked so sad, what happened?"
Alley paused, "You better sit down. Remember how I said you don't know anything about Spot?"

"Yes," Fred replied as she slowly sat down, her side gave an ache, she winced but ignored it.

"Spot Conlon came very close to becoming Mr. Spot Conlon last year," Alley replied, "That key he wears around his neck belongs to the person buried out back."

"Who is the person?"

"Her name was Clara MacDunn, she was a tough but sweet newsgirl, to tell you the truth...You look just like her," Alley paused and frowned, "That explains a lot of why Spot was acting the way he was."

"She was very special to him."

"Oh yes," Alley agreed, "Extremely. Spot found her beaten up in an alley way when she was only 6 years old, her mother had passed and her father had been abusing her something terrible. Spot was 9 at the time, he took Clara here, they became instant friends....He nicknamed her Bell, because he said it was the sound of her voice whenever she sang. Then, last year he came across that key and Clara had a real thing for old keys, in fact the key Spot found had once upon a time been her mother's master key to their house. Spot bent to one knee later that day to ask for her hand in marriage....And there was a runaway coach," Alley's eyes began to water and become glassy, "Then Spot's ex-second in command, Trigger, got him out of the way in time...But not....Not Clara. She was killed a moment later. Spot then 'demoted' Trigger back to a regular newsie and kicked him out of Brooklyn, he stayed in Bronx for a while, then went on to Queens, then Long Island, last I heard around Christmas time he hopped on a train to New Jersey."

"That's so sad, Spot still blames him?" Fred asked.

"Yes, to this very day....But Trigger was only doing what every second in command knows his duty to do: protect their leader. Maybe one of these days Spot will forgive Trigger, Lord knows I hope so."

"I do too..." Fred replied, amazed. She had no idea Spot Conlon was so sensitive.

Alley paused, "Just...Don't mention Clara or anything about her in front of him, I wasn't ever supposed to speak of her to you."

Fred nodded, "Yeah...I won't say a word, I promise..." She paused, "What about Race?"

"Race was in love once two years ago, but the newsgirl left him to be with the Queens Leader, Bricks. Not to be....Mean to Bricks...But his I.Q. equals that of a brick," she smirked.

Fred chuckled and paused, "You know how you said the walls around my heart would come crashing down? I felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush when I saw Sport."
"Sport's handsome, but he's a ladies man, he and Spot are just about equal in the ladies department. But Spot....Spot has rules, he doesn't sleep with his girlfriends. Sport does. Sport loves them, beds them, and leaves them. Spot doesn't agree with it, but Sport's a close friend and his second in command, and Spot trusts him with his life...So the two pretty much ignore their different...Uh...Life styles." Alley replied, "So really, it's alright to like Sport, but don't go head over heels for him. This brings me back to the question you really never answered..."

"And a question I never really will answer," Fred replied, "Alley, you all have been teaching me how to trust again. So far I trust Race as far as I can throw him -"

"You can trust him with your life, same with Spot."

"Alley, I have trust issues...Alright...You all have been wondering about me...So you told me about Spot and you told me your life story yesterday...So trusting means sharing pasts, right?"

Alley nodded, "It's not easy, but sharing something that isn't easy shows a sign of trust."

Fred nodded, "Alright then..." she paused and licked her lips before rubbing her hands together, "My dad walked out on my mom and I when I was a baby, so I never knew him. Mom died when I was three and I was put into the system, which where I come from means foster care. They put all your possessions in a trash bag and hand it to you and basically treat you like trash. I stayed with one foster family until I was 7 until they decided that I just 'wasn't the right child for them.' Then I was in the system again until a few days after I turned 8, I was put into another foster home, stayed there until I was nine and ran away. The police caught me and brought me home, the foster family decided they didn't want a runner and back into the system I went."

She continued, "Then I was in the system until I was 11, I was put into the care of an elderly lady named Galinda. She was really nice, and I loved her so much, and she loved me. I stayed there until I was 13, she died and I was put into another foster home across the street. It was terribly, my foster mother was abusive, cruel, and if I....If I made her angry she would bind my wrists with rope so tight the blood stopped running through them, she'd only take them off right before my hands literally died. Her husband was a drunk and did nothing about it." Tears began to rise in her eyes, "Then I met Brandon when I was fourteen and at school, he was an orphan too and was in an abusive household. After a while we both agreed to run away and we were out on the streets."

"I learned to pick pocket for a living and we both lived under a bridge until a girl named Emmaline Conlon, who swears she wasn't a relative of Spot but we all know she was, found us. She was a leader to a bunch of homeless kids, we lived anywhere we could find. We stayed in a mausoleum for at least a good year I think....Then we left when the cemetery's caretaker finally decided to fix its broken door. I saw a lot when I was on the streets, so many people make it sound romantic....Really it's far from it, it's terrifying and every day and night we had to wonder if were going to make it to the next day. There were times when Brandon and I both wrote our names on little slips of paper we found in dumpster's and shoved them into our pockets because with so many gang fights and crazy people out there we weren't sure."

"Then when I turned 16 Brandon and I were planning to steal wallets until we earned enough to get us both off the streets, we were going to pretend to be older than we actually were and get married and have an apartment. I pick pocketed from this one guy who looked real gullible, I almost got away with it too until he came back and arrested me. I was in the slammer - jail - for a week when Tom made a deal with the judge. It took Tom six months to straighten me out, after he did he and I became just like brother and sister."

"Then....Out of the blue Brandon walks back into my life, begs for a hundred bucks out of my register. I tell him I can't, I was lucky to get a second chance that I definitely did not deserve. He shot me for it, the guy I trusted with my life shot me."

Alley stared at Fred, "I'm so sorry....I understand now why...Why you don't want to think about love."

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Spot had been coming back into the lodging house after talking to Sport and talking to Clara. He had come in just in time to hear Fred tell all about her history and froze. She had it just as rough as they did, she was just as tough as he was....Only she was afraid to love. But she was learning to trust again, learning to make friends again, that was a good sign.

He jumped when he heard a creak and turned, Racetrack was standing behind him.

"Now we'se know why she's so closed off," Race whispered.

Spot nodded, "And why she said da odder day dat I wasn't dat odda Conlon."

"We'se should keep talkin ta heh, help heh learn ta trust again widdout worryin dat one of us is gonna shoot her."

"Well, we'se both gainin' her trust, so we'se ah gettin' dere," Spot replied.

Race nodded, "We'se ah...."