Categories > Movies > Newsies > Goodbye

Chap 4: Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

by Sagey1899 0 Reviews

A Deadly fire strikes in the heart of Manhattan just before Christmas. Can Jack and the others save one of their own? (WARNING: character death)

Category: Newsies - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama - Characters: Jack Kelly, Kid Blink, Mush, Racetrack Higgins, Skittery, Snoddy, Specs, Spot Conlon - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2007/07/07 - Updated: 2007/07/07 - 1981 words

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Spot closed the door behind him. "He won't come out." He frowned at the group of newsies that had gathered near the sickroom door. The mood was tense and sadness hung in the air.

"Well at least ya got him talkin." Skittery raised a dark brow. "Ain't said nuthin ta any a us since..."

Spot cut him off. "Yeah, well I had ta scream at 'im foist...nuttin new foah me an' Jack."

"So we heard..." Specs giggled at the show they had heard from the other side of the door.

Race smacked Specs upside the head, glaring at him, semi-playfully.

Spot frowned and smacked Race upside the head, twice as hard. The humor lacking in this strike.

"Hey!" Race cried out at the unexpected assault.

"Wha? Youse shouldn't hit people so much!

"Damn Spot, ain't like I do it ta hurt em!"

"See deah Race? Dats da diffrence, if I raise a hand ta somebody, I soaks em, you just slap 'em like a pansy."

Race glared at Spot.

Skittery stepped forward. "Y-yer outta line Spot." He knew he was taking his life into his hands by speaking out against THE Spot Conlon. But this was NOT the time for friends to be tearing at each other. Crutchy was dead and if something wasn't done, Jack would die too. That wasn't something Skittery was willing to have as a possibility. He never would have gone to Brooklyn to get Spot had he suspected that it wouldn't help.

Skittery was a good fighter, he was fast and strong and though he had good instincts, he also had the sense to try and walk away if he could. But, this was different. This was HIS home, HIS family and if it meant taking on the devil himself, to keep peace and help Jack, that was exactly what he would do. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Spot smirked, never taking his eyes off Racetrack. "It was smaht foah you ta leave Brooklyn Race. Dey don't seem ta mind ya fightin like a goil heah in Manhattan."

Race lunged at Spot, ready to tear him limb from limb. Skittery jumped in and held Spot back while Blink dashed in to grab Race. Both smaller boys struggled to get at each other, but the Blink and Skittery, were taller and stronger, somehow they managed to keep the boys apart.

Spot snickered and poked his head under Skittery's arm so he could see the Italian newsboy. "Not a good call, Race. Now I'se gonna hafta soak ya!"

Race lunged again in a futile attempt to get past Blink. "You just try it ya doity rotten...."

"GET IN HEAH CONLON!" Jack's voice boomed from the sick room then drifted into a coughing fit.

"YOU CANT ORDAH ME ROUND LIKE SOME STUPID KID!" Spot returned, still struggling against Skittery to get to Race.

Jack stumbled to the door, protecting his newsies pushed the pain and sickness into the background. He yanked the sickroom door open. "Don't make me say it twice, Spot!" He stepped to the side waiting for Spot to enter so they could talk in private. As mad as he was, seeing the two leaders fight was not something his boys needed to see.

Blink and Mush dragged Race to the other side of the bunkroom and Skittery allowed Spot to go to the door, ready to step back in should he need to.

Jack leaned his head against the door jam, his face an odd shade of pale green mixed with the crimson burns. His eyes dark with fever and sadness.

"Go back ta bed, Cowboy!"

Jack rolled his eyes and reached out to grab Spot's arm. A wave of fatigue and pain washed over him, and Spot shot his hand out to steady him. A ragged gasp escaped Jack's throat as Spot's hand made contact with the burns on his arm. Jack growled causing Spot to let go. He paled further, his dark eyes rolling back, and began to sway.

"Shit!" Spot caught Jack just before he hit the cold hard floor.

Searing pain slammed through Jack's body, tearing him from the grip of the fever. "Getcha hands offa me, Aiden!" he hissed.

Spots anger seethed. "FINE!" He let his grip loosen imediately dropping Jack to the floor. "Help yerself den!"

Skittery and Mush glared at Spot and stepped forward to help Jack get up.

"He don't want help," he glared at Jack. "Let him git up on his own!"

The boys looked to Jack, but Jack's only focus was Spot. I'm still leader of Hattan, how dare Spot talk to me like that and pick fights with MY boys in MY lodging house! Jack's anger was pounding through him. It forced him to scramble weakly to his knees and start pulling himself up using the door handle. "You need ta check yer ego Spot. You ain't in charge 'ere."

Spot eyed Jack. "Don't look like yer doin much leadin nowadays Kelly, someone's gotta take control."

"So pickin a fight wit Race", cough, cough, "is yer idea a takin control?"

Spot growled. "I didn't pick a fight. Dat dumb ass Italian started wit me."

"I'll show you startin ya dirty rotten Mick!" Race had made his way back across the bunkroom.

Jack pulled himself the rest of the way up, he stood straight now, even though he could feel the burned flesh on his back tear with his movements. "CHEEZ IT!"

Spot shot the scrappy Italian a deadly look. "Wanna go Race! I'll kick da shit outta ya right heah an' now!"

Skittery bristled and readied himself to move in and separate them again.

"Yeah? ya tink ya can take me Spot? Bring it on!" Race countered as Mush moved in front of him.

"T'ink I can take ya? I'll soak ya till next Tuesday!"

Race smirked. "It'll take till FRIDAY foah ya ta recovah from da soakin I'm gonna give you!"

"Shoah bout dat Race? C'mere an' I'll rip yer damn face off!"

Jack finally addressed the boys. "Git 'im outta heah Skittery!" refering to Race. Jack grabbed the front of Spot's shirt. "BACK OFF!"

"Get yer greasy hands offa me!" Spot grabbed Jack's wrists and ripped his hands from him. Jack stumbled back and fell into a hard wood chair.

"Dat's right, Cowboy!" Spot glared at him. "Siddown an' shaddup!"

Choice words flew from the boys standing in earshot. But, Jack and Spot paid no heed to what was said.

Jack's eyes narrowed. His stomach was turning and his fever burned through his body, making his reactions, both physical and vocal, much slower than he was used to. "You ain't gonna walk in heah an take ovah me boys..." He growled through clenched teeth.

"Why would I want dis shitty borough when I got Brooklyn?" Spot spat back at him.

"It's time foah ya ta go home Spot!" His tone cold and hard. A tone he saved for the Delancey's or rivals, not one he used with his best friend. Jack got up and pulled himself as straight and tall as he could. But the painful burns didn't allow him to stand as he normally would. His shoulders were hunched and he was painfully thin.

"You t'rowin me out?" Spot's icey tone a perfect match for Jack's.

"Yeah I am." Jack pointed to the door. "GO!"

Jack had one desire at that moment: To die in peace. His cheeks had hollowed and he had dark patches beneath his eyes. If he could just go to sleep...

"Damn ya look like me old man." Spot's voice broke through his fevered thoughts.

Jack smirked. "Ya finally figured out who he is den?" The second it was out of his mouth he knew he'd really messed up.

"YA DOITY SCAB!" Spot lunged at him but Jack managed to scramble out of the way. Spot crashed into the chair.

"I ain't no scab!"

"TAKE IT BACK!" Spot growled. "You don't know nuttin bout me muddah or me faddah!"

Jack opened his mouth, half convinced he should apologize. But Spot cut Jack's thoughts of redemption short. "AT LEAST MINE AIN'T A MURDERAH FRANCIS SULLIVAN!"

"You shoah bout dat AIDEN?" Jack hissed. "As much as yer muddah got around I'd be willin ta bet deh's a killer or two in deh!"

"You fuckin twat!" Spot punched Jack right in the mouth. Jack tried to back up but found himself against the wall. The small framed painting of a horse cutting into his burned back. Jack gasped and leaned forward in pain, putting him at the perfect height for Spot to punch him again, this time right in his left eye. "I'se gonna kill ya!"

"Not when I kill youse foist!" Jack grunted as he punched Spot hard in the stomach.

The boys stoond there, in shock, too afraid to break up the fight between the two leaders. An interruption now, would surely bring the wrath of both leaders down on them.

"ARGH!" Spot slammed Jack to the floor in a hate filled rage and lept on top of Jack's chest, punching him in the face. "I WANNA SEE YOU TRY!"

Jack's back was bloody, his fever burned any semi-coherent thoughts he had...but it had blinded him into a rage. "GERRR OFF!" He shoved Spot off of him and rolled over to his side.

"What's a mattah? Can't fight me FRANCIS!?" Spot taunted as he got to his feet.

Jack launched himself at Spot, shoving his head deep in Spot's gut and shoved him out the door into the frame of one of the bunks toppling it, and them, over with a resounding CRASH that rattled the windows.

"DON'T. CALL. ME. FRANCIS!" Jack punctuated each word with a heavy fist.

He leaned back gasping for breath between coughs. Spot caught his breath. "FRANCIS!"

Jack brought his head down fast and hard, cracking his forehead with Spot's. Nearly knocking himself unconscious in the process.

Race, Skitts, Blink and Snoddy, concerned that they would really hurt each other, tried to pull them apart. Spot's elbow clocked Race in the head.

Ignoring Racetracks cries and the shouts of the boys, Spot attacked harder. "You wanna fight Kelly?"

Someone's knee met Snoddy's nose with a CRUNCH! Blood spurted from his broken nose.

Spot dug his fingers into Jack's shoulders and flung him off right onto his back. Jack roared in pain. Everything, froze in that moment. The lodging house was so silent a pin dropping would have sounded like a percussion grenade.

Spot wiped the blood from his face glaring at Jack.

Jack rolled over onto his stomach; his shoulders bleeding from the torn blisters and the bandages on his back were blood soaked.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Skittery bellowed.

"You want some too Skitts?" Spot turned his menacing glare to Skittery.

"At least it'd be more of a fair fight!"

Jack pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking from rage and pain, his stormy brown eyes never losing contact with Spot's icy ones. "GET OUT!"

"I'se leavin gladly!"

"GOOD!" Blood dripped from Jack's face and streamed down his arms. "An dont come back!"

"It's a damned pleashah! Don't evah show yer face again in Brooklyn!"

"FINE BY ME!"

Spot stalked to the steps then stopped and turned. "Ya know what Jack?"

Skittery helped Jack to his feet. "What?"

Spot's face went hard and cold. "It is all your fuckin fault Crutchy died! Now go sit in that room and cry about it! That's da only thing yer good foah now anyway, is ta sit an bitch!"

Every boy's jaw hit the floor. Skittery was the only one that spoke. "That ain't true!" He shook his head looking from Spot to Jack.

Spot spat blood on the floorboards as he glared at them all. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and stomped down the steps, slamming the door behind him.
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