Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry it's been awhile, but now the chappie is here! Thank goodness! Thank you for your reviews! Now enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies *tear tear*

As Boots and Snipeshooter told of Alicia's heroic victory, embellishing quite a bit for dramatic effect, Alicia sat down next to David, who had been blue for the last few days, suffering from his deprivation of time with her. He gleefully scooted over in the booth, eager to have her join him for lunch. Mush and Blink, who sat across from him, made faces and dirty gestures in his direction, causing David's face to glow a bright mauve.

Alicia, who had her elbows propped on the table, grabbed a loose lock of hair, examining the split ends in disgust. "Ugh," she moaned, "I seriously need a deep conditioning."

Davey, Mush, and Blink looked at her in confusion. Alicia glanced at their faces. She bugged her eyes and held up her hands. "Ya know, for my hair!"

"Er," David gulped, "I'm not sure what 'deep conditioning' means, but I don't think we have that…here…" And by 'here', David meant 'in 1899', but with the other newsies around, there was no way he could say that without sounding insane.

Alicia paused in thought. "Well would they have some conditioner in Brooklyn?" she wondered, clearly missing David's point, allowing for much amusement for Blink and Mush as they chuckled. Alicia glared at the laughing newsies until they ceased, clearly afraid that Alicia might make good on her threat of coming after them with a blow dryer from when they had first met.

David shook his head. "Probably not," he answered her question.

Alicia pouted until the bell above Tibby's door tinged, announcing the arrival of Spark and Racetrack. "Oh good!" she shouted. "Spark! Do you have conditioner in Brooklyn?"

Spark looked startled at the random question, "Um, I don't really know what that is…" he admitted.

Alicia placed her hand on her hips. "You don't know what conditioner is?"

Spark looked around for some help. Racetrack shrugged his shoulders. No one in the vicinity seemed to understand. "You're all useless!" Alicia exclaimed, a tad irritated that her usually perfect hair was being abused.

Racetrack and Spark grabbed seats at one table that a few newsies occupied, placing their order with the waiter. Snitch glanced around. "Hey, Race, where's Chip?" he asked curiously.

This sent the restaurant's occupants to looking around, searching for Camille's face. This time Racetrack turned to Spark for help. The Brooklynite took the lead. "She's in Brooklyn, she an' Spot had somethin' ta work out," he explained, slightly scowling.

There was silence while this fact registered in everyone's minds, then an explosion of noise and activity as the newsies rushed to Spark and Racetrack, yelling objections.

"You left her in Brooklyn?!"

"Alone?!"

"With Spot?! Of all people?!"

Spark held up his hands, trying to quiet the frantic Manhattaners down, growing more claustrophobic with each second. "Hey! Hey! Yeah, she's with Spot, so nothin' bad's gonna happen!" he assured the small crowd, attempting to convince himself as well. "Spot ain't gonna try anythin' stupid, so stop worryin'!" Spark wanted to add 'because Spot knows I'll leave Brooklyn if he does anything to Camille', but he restrained himself from disclosing his fondness of the girl.

Spark's logic took hold and the group settled themselves down a bit. Alicia was a little tense, as was David, who knew about the many things that could go wrong in Brooklyn, and Mush, who was just a sensitive guy. "Alright," David spoke, "But if she's not home, I mean…back in Manhattan, by tomorrow—at the latest!—then we're going to look for her."

"Agreed!" Mush and Blink chimed in.

"Stop being such a dad Davey!" Racetrack scolded, thwaping his fellow newsie upside the head. "Chip's fine. She can hold her own. Told Spot off mighty fine t'day." Racetrack beamed at the memory of Camille and Spot's confrontation.

Jack nearly choked on his food. "She did what?" he gaped, stunned at the thought of someone talking back to the King of Brooklyn.

Spark grinned. "Her exact words were—" and here he imitated Camille's western accent "—'You are stupid'."

A round of laughter rippled through the newsies, although it was tinted with nervousness. How did Spot react to that?

"And ya know what Spot did?" Racetrack guffawed once he had caught his breath. "He let her sit on his crate. Can ya believe that?"

Most of the nervous tension in the room dissolved, but a new feeling entered. It was hard to describe. There was awe at the fact that Camille had even been able to make it halfway up the stack of crates without Spot biting her head off. He was awfully protective of those damn crates. There was a bit of confusion concerning why Spot had allowed Camille a place next to him. And there was also a tiny giddy feeling emanating from those that had been part of the time travel. Camille and Spot…together maybe? Even if it wasn't like that, at least the two were civil with each other again. Or as civil as either of them ever acted.

Everyone at Tibby's wished they were on the Brooklyn docks, listening in on Spot and Camille's conversation. Little did they know that the newsies currently occupying the Brooklyn docks were wishing the very same thing.

"They're all staring at me," Camille grumbled under her breath, noticing how the newsies would occasionally drag their eyes up the mountain of crates, inspecting the newcomer.

"Actually, they'se prob'ly lookin' at me," Spot smirked, his ego at large.

Camille rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "Right," she replied with doubt. "Why would they look at something that's always been here?"

Spot shrugged. "Because it's me. And, well, it's me." That was apparently the only reason Spot felt was needed.

Camille raised her eyebrows. "You are very full of yourself Mr. Conlon."

"Would you like ta be full a me, Chip?" Spot asked mischievously.

"You would think someone with the responsibility of controlling a town of newsboys wouldn't be so inclined to be so lewd," she mused.

Spot sat smirking, and Camille jabbed at his silence. "Did you not understand my big words?"

Spot simply kept smirking. "I undahstood poifectly."

"Then why are you just sitting there with that ridiculous facial expression?"

"'Cause ya didn' say no."

"Well I sure as shit didn't say yes!" Camille shouted, sliding away from Spot, which was hard to do considering the size of the crate that the two were sitting on.

Spot inched closer. "But ya didn' say no."

Camille's cheeks burned. "No! No, no, no! There!"

Spot continued to grin. "Delayed," he said.

"Stupid," Camille grumbled.

He laughed. "An' ya thought my vocabulary needed help. About the only thing ya say is 'stupid'."

"It's the only word to describe you," Camille replied, crossing her arms and looking away from him determinedly.

Spot chuckled and she continued talking. "Look, Spot, the reason I came to talk to you is because you are being stupid and telling Spark that he can't talk to me or anything."

"Is that what he said I said?" Spot inquired.

Camille looked down, thinking back to what Spark had told her at the track. "Well, not exactly, it's more what I said and he affirmed it…"

"So you'se admittin' that ya don' know for sure if that's really what I said?"

"Spot, look, it doesn't matter if ya said it or not, I'm going to hang out with Spark and talk to him and stuff and you're just going to have to deal, okay?" Camille declared impatiently.

Spot cocked his head. "Deal?"

It took Camille a moment to realize that Spot didn't understand her modern day slang. "Oh, um, you'll just have to put up with it," she clarified.

Spot nodded his head in contemplation. "I see." They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Spot began to speak again. "Look, Chip, I kinda like ya…" he stated, a little harshly, not quite used to telling people his emotions.

"Oh," Camille breathed out, then quickly added, "Don't call me that."

Spot smirked at how Camille had become shy in such a short amount of time. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, making her jump. She hadn't expected that. She instinctively kissed him back, after all, Spot wasn't the only one with feelings for someone on the dock. The newsboy was about to deepen the kiss when Camille pulled away, staring in shock at Spot. Spot chuckled at her cute expression and leaned forward, trying to kiss her again. Camille leaned back at the same angle that Spot was leaning towards her.

She gulped. "Look, Spot, this is sort of serious. I mean, I can't stay in Brooklyn because, well, I can't say here, in this time. Alicia and I have to go back." She didn't feel the need to tell him that only one of them was going back, since she was still shaky as to who she was going to choose.

There was a glint of loss in Spot's eye, then he was back to his suggestive self. "So let's make the most a the time we got." He grabbed her wrist and managed to pull her closer to him.

"No," she shoved away. "Don't ya get it? I don't want to get attached to anyone! Alicia needs to go back—"

"So send her back!" Spot shouted.

Camille opened and closed her mouth a few times, very much resembling a fish. Spot was right. She had to send Alicia back. She knew it. Alicia belonged in 2009. And Camille felt…she felt right being in 1899, despite her withdrawals from her iPod, she knew she could cope. Not that she would admit it to Spot, because she was stubborn like that. "I'm going to. As soon as I know how."

Spot looked off at the waves, absentmindedly taking out his sling-shot and shooting randomly. "Doesn't mean you have ta go," he whispered.

"What?" Camille asked in disbelief. Sure, he had said he liked her, but this was Spot Conlon, fearless leader of the Brooklyn newsies, attractive and powerful, able to get any girl he wanted, and all he cared about at the moment was Camille going away. It floored the girl.

Spot didn't reply, his shooting swiftly growing faster.

Camille's eyes softened at Spot's change of heart. He really was sweet. "Look Spot," she started once again. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just…right now…I can't handle that…I really just need someone there…for support…and as a friend…but nothin' more…"

Spot laughed. "Ain't that what Blink or Mush are for?"

Camille grimaced. "Spot, I need you too, you know that don't you? I know we're not exactly best friends…but…"

"Would ya stop babblin'?" Spot asked huffily, but with a smirk. "Now c'mon, we don' want Davey dyin' of worry that I'se got ya all ta meself now do we?"

Camille shook her head with a smile, glad he was back to normal. "That would be awful."

"Me point exactly," Spot concluded, bounding down to the docks and heading for 'Hattan, ignoring the questioning and confused looks he received from his newsboys, Camille following on Spot's heels.

"Davey, sit down," Alicia patted the seat beside her.

The other newsies chuckled at David's obvious distress. David had nothing against Spot; he just got terribly nervous about the whole of Brooklyn. When David was anxious, he paced. Rapidly.

"You'se gonna end up makin' a hole in the floor, Davey," Racetrack cackled as David proceeded to walk in a tight circle even faster.

Jack slung an arm around David's shoulders, attempting to lead him to the vacant place by Alicia. When David resisted, Spark barked, "Siddown!"

This startled David so much that he practically fell, in an obedient way, into the booth. Spark and Racetrack exchanged smug grins and sipped their coffee, until the bell above the doorway tinged again, causing David to jump up and out of his seat once again.

Entering the quaint café was Spot and Camille, looking as if they were enjoying each others company, which was bound to be a relatively good sign, except to Spark. Alicia jumped from her seat to greet her friend. "Yay! You're back! Now you can explain to these goons what conditioner is!" she insisted. "I've just had the hardest time trying to get them to get me some, considering they're all too uncaring of their hair to know what conditioner is. I mean, can you believe it? It's, like, the basic lifeblood of hair! Don't the boys at our school know what conditioner is? I swear they do…I think most of them use it too!"

"Whoa! Girl, slow down," Camille held up her hand, effectively shutting her rambling friend up. Alicia smiled widely. "Now, what is it they don't get?"

"Hair conditioner!!! Explain what it is before I go crazy!" Alicia snapped, grabbing Camille by the arms, not bothering to ask how Brooklyn had gone, and dragging her to the center of Tibby's, shoving her so that she was actually standing on top of a table, much to Camille's protests. Alicia clapped her hands for attention. "All right everyone!" she yelled. "Listen up! Camille is about to say something about the miracle of hair products." She glanced down at Dutchy, who was seated near her and remarked, "It looks like you could use a bit of the miracle…"

Dutchy looked down at the ground sadly, hurt from Alicia's comment on his hair, which he didn't think was that bad. Looking down was a big mistake; Alicia smacked his head. "I said 'LISTEN UP'! So look 'UP' and 'LISTEN'! UP LISTEN!" She was getting a little over excited.

Camille giggled, looking at the newsies that were now surrounding her, awaiting an explanation for Alicia's frantic love of 'conditioner'. "Well," Camille began to enlighten, "Conditioner is…well…it's…" Camille scrunched up her face, deep in thought, "It's…it's…well, I…I can't really…" She glanced up in confusion, feeling utterly lost. "I don't know." Why couldn't she remember what conditioner was? She was sure she used to know what it was, was sure she had used it even, whatever the heck it was used for that is. She gulped. "I can't remember what it is…" She jumped from the table, walking, trancelike towards the door. Spot stopped her by holding onto her arms. She looked up into his murky eyes, and saw what she thought must have been concern. However, she doubted herself, now that she couldn't even remember what conditioner was. What was it?!

Alicia's mouth was hanging open. "What do you mean you don't know?!" she screamed, marching over to Camille to give her a piece of her mind. "If this is a joke to make me seem like I'm on crack—" the newsies exchanged more confused glances "—then I am going to be so—" She saw the frightened gleam in Camille's eyes and realized Camille hadn't been joking around for her own amusement and dropped the subject, resorting to grasping Camille in a hug.

Spot jumped back in horror. He didn't do hugs.

Racetrack scratched his head, stepping forward. "Didn' that old hag at the track say something about you not worryin' bout ya mem'ry?" he offered, in an effort to make Camille more comfortable. Instead he received a menacing glare.

Alicia pulled away from her friend. "Hag at the track?" she asked.

"Er, well, see, we was sellin' at the track, and well, Madame Schleffel showed up…"

Tears pricked at Alicia's eyes. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Or me!" Spot, David, and Blink piped up at the same time; Mush had been too busy daydreaming about matching laces for his boots, and added "Or me" too late, getting odd looks in return.

Camille gulped, "It was no big deal…"

"It must have been if she told you you'd soon get a case of Alzheimer's!" Alicia screeched.

Camille flinched away at the high pitched sound, holding up a finger. "Actually," she corrected, "I'd be developing amnesia…"

"Don't correct me!" Alicia shouted, clearly pissed off at Camille's negligence in relaying Madame Schleffel's message to her.

Racetrack once again came forward, "Really, the old crone didn't say much, she didn' really 'member us."

"Oh," Alicia said. "Oh…well, nevermind then!" And she was back to hugs and smiles, forgetting her irritation.

David and Blink decided to drop the subject as well, and Mush had gone back to admiring his mismatched laces. He secretly liked them. But Spot logged this away in the recesses of his mind, determined to bring it up sometime when he got Camille alone. He knew it held more meaning than Camille and Race were letting on, and he would find out.

Author's Note: Well, that was longer than usual I think, and hopefully not terrible ha ha! Leave a review people!! Thank ya!!