~*~ Say When ~*~

"It all began with the man and country"

To Spot Conlon, today was any other day. The breeze off the East River was calmer than usual but spring was in the air and the trees in Prospect Park were already beginning to bud. His stomach churned in anticipation for the coming summer. The winter had been long and harsh, lasting until the end of March and he was more than ready for the warmer weather.

Now, as they hit the middle of April, things were beginning to look up. Spot walked down the street to his selling spot, confident at this moment in who he was, secure in the knowledge that he was the King of Brooklyn and the most famous newsie in New York…and probably everywhere else. He hadn't lost a fight since he was ten, had been leader for close to four years now and could have pretty much any dame he set his sights on.

It was good to be the King.

He smirked as he began to hawk headlines. Being a newsie wasn't easy, only the roughest could sell in Brooklyn. So, as the leader he had to be the toughest and any sign of weakness would have him run out of Brooklyn faster than you could say his name.

The day past quickly and as he finished the afternoon edition he headed towards the docks. The boys that skipped the afternoon edition were already there, splashing in the river or playing a game of poker on the crates. He made his way through the crowd, nodding to a few of the boys as he headed to the end of the dock where he usually sat to observe the goings-on.

Lately, things had been pretty slow. The excitement of the strike had long died out and the peace between boroughs was still going strong. Under the surface, though, he could sense a certain restlessness about his boys although he could not pinpoint where its source was.

For some reason his gaze snagged on Lighter, who was talking quietly to Hint and Midnight. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced to his right and caught site of his most trusted newsie, Ruckus. Ruckus was not his second in command for the simple fact that Spot wanted the newsie as far from being connected to him as possible. If others thought he was the one he depended on the most, Ruckus wouldn't know half the stuff he knew. With a little spy like him Spot could usually squash an uprising before it started.

"Ruckus." He said quietly, letting his gaze pass over the small newsie. Ruckus was fifteen but had yet to reach a growth spurt. He was clumsy, gangly and often times causing a ruckus which was how he'd gotten his name. His dark brown hair was usually in a state of complete chaos and his grey eyes were shifty in a nervous kind of way.

"Spot." He murmured in reply, knowing when Spot didn't want others to know they were conversing. No one was paying them that close of attention, anyhow.

"Lightah plannin' somethin'?"

Ruckus' eyes shifted towards the person in question, took in the deep, concentrated conversation before shifting on pass them. "No idea. Ise'll woik on it and git back ta ya."

"Dat's ya priority at da moment." Spot leaned back; stretching out slightly in a pose that made him look relaxed but that was actually the opposite to how he really felt. Something was wrong and he could feel it. He also didn't like it one bit.

Betrayal, luckily, was something he'd dealt with all his life. It was why he was a good leader, he didn't trust anybody. All you could trust was being stabbed in the back.

He clenched his jaw as he suppressed the feelings and memories that tried to push their way for the forefront of his mind. It had gotten much easier with time, locking these away, but the warning in his stomach that things were wrong in Brooklyn was making that harder to do. Growling lowly, praying for just a little patience, he stood up, grabbed his cane and strode down the dock in long, angry strides.

One look at his face had everyone stepping out of his way.

The Brooklyn leader let his feet take him to his favorite place, the one location that would clear his head and set him right; the Brooklyn Bridge. He walked along it until he reached the middle and then leaned over the railing to watch the sun as it began to fall lower in the sky.

The days were getting longer; the breeze ruffled his hair after he took off his cap and stuffed it in his back pocket. He gazed down at the water. Being here, on this bridge, truly made him realize how small and insignificant he was. The river didn't care if he was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, it would just as soon drown him. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair and watched the sun, realizing just how lonely it was to be him. Yeah, he had his boys most days and the nights could be filled with a willing broad but there was nothing to fill up the emptiness. No substance that made this worth it.

Not that these ponderings were making his mood any better, he told himself and tried to switch his thoughts to another matter at hand. Except the only other matter at hand was the fact that there may or may not be a mutiny boiling under the surface of his newsies. He was sure it wasn't anything he'd done. He wasn't a democracy like Manhattan, but he wasn't a complete tyrant. They were allowed to come and go as they pleased during the day, he only asked them to be back by ten so they could get up to sell papes in the morning. It was a rule even he followed.

He trained them all in fighting, using a slingshot and selling papes and most often than not he was the main instructor. It's not like he didn't treat them like human beings, he knew all their names and if any got really sick he made sure they got better as best he could.

He threw out the idea that it had anything to do with him as he watched the last bit of the sun fall away. Darkness began to settle around the city as he slowly made his way back towards the lodging house that was only a few blocks farther than the docks. Spot kept a keen eye out for any drunks or punks that wanted to pick a fight but for the majority of the walk it was quiet.

As soon as he passed the docks and made it onto a street lined with apartments he heard a noise from a nearby alley. "Ow!" Exclaimed a voice he instantly recognized as Ruckus. Worried, he headed down the lane and came upon Ruckus being held against the wall by Lighter.

"Whatya say, Lightah? Wanna drop da kid?" Spot said, leaning his hands on the top of his cane, his legs spread slightly, prepared for a fight.

Lighter turned to gaze at Spot, a smirk forming on the edge of his lips, "T'ought ya'd come ta rescue dis useless garbage." He pushed Ruckus away easily and turned to Spot. "I has a proposition foah ya, Conlon."

"My, dat's a big woid foah ya, Lightah. Good t'ing ya didn't stumble ovah it. Woulda made me doubt ya intelligence." Spot replied, cocking an eyebrow before adding, "Oh, wait. I'm doubtin' it right now."

He couldn't see in the darkness, but he was pretty sure Lighter's face had turned beat red, "Ya t'ink ya such a smart ass, dontcha Conlon? Well, I'll tell ya some of us is sick of it."

"I do, actually." Spot smirked slightly, "Sick of me, huh? Whatya gonna do 'bout it, Lightah? T'ink ya can beat me in a fair fight?"

Lighter stepped closer and Spot could see the self-satisfied smile on his face, "Ya know, Conlon, I don't t'ink I can. Which is why it ain't gonna be fair." He paused for effect, "Boys?"

Spot took in the faces around him. There were four others, two of which were Hint and Midnight. The other two, one his own second, Shine, and the last, a newer newsie who was huge, brawny and so dubbed Tiny.

"Et tu, Shine?" Spot joked, knowing none of them would know what he referenced. A long time ago he'd pick pocketed an old bag and had come up with nothing but a ticket to a play, 'Julius Caesar' and though most of it had gone over his head he had always remembered the scene where Caesar is betrayed by his right hand man Brutus, among others. Any fellah would remember that scene.

"Get him." Lighter ordered, and Spot immediately began to defend himself. Even though going against five guys was more than he could manage, he wasn't going down without a fight.

Before Shine could reach him, he extended his arm and let his cane trip up the boy before he whirled around and ducked a punch from someone else. He once again lashed out with his cane and managed to catch Lighter in the gut right before someone; Midnight perhaps, landed a blow to his face. Ignoring the pain, he tried to whip his cane around for another attack but Lighter managed to grab a hold of it and yanked it from his grasp as Tiny grabbed his free arm and twisted it back until there was sickening crunch.

Pain blossomed up his arm causing him to gasp and nearly vomit. Dizziness swept over him and he felt close to passing out. Luckily, he was use to the pain and turned in time to land a nice blow to the newsies face. Hopefully, he'd have a nice shiner to remember him by. Stumbling back, Spot glared at the five, "Dat all ya got? Old ladies fight betta den you guys."

They didn't like to hear that and so they all came barreling at him. He fought back for awhile but it was hard with one arm hindering him and once they pinned him to the ground his vision started to blur. Struggling half heartedly, he wondered if this was how it was going to end. Just another street rat dead in the gutter as his name was slowly forgotten. How humiliating, losing Brooklyn and his kingship this way; beaten to death by five power-hungry guys.

After a while of their incessant beating, kicks and punches to the ribs, face and legs, a sound startled the boys. "Cheese it, it's da bulls!" Lighter exclaimed, and Spot heard their footsteps grow farther away. Lighter stayed back long enough to grab Spot's cane and slingshot from where they had fallen, "Enjoy hell, Conlon." He muttered, pulling out a knife to cut off the key that hung around his neck before moving to plunge the knife into Spot, who only stared back. Before he could give his last blow, a figure launched themselves on his back causing him to drop the knife as they pounded on his back bringing him down to the ground. Roughly, Ruckus grabbed the guy by his hair and smashed his head on the cobblestones and the traitor groaned before slipping into unconsciousness.

The Brooklyn leader was vaguely surprised at the speed in which the gangly youth took Lighter down as Ruckus moved towards where he lay, "Spot?" Ruckus asked hesitantly.

Spot was almost numb with the amount of pain he was in, "Get…" He inhaled and found it hard to do, "to bridge."

"You want to go to the bridge?" Ruckus asked, looking at Spot as if he were nuts.

Exhaling slowly, Spot winced as Ruckus moved to make him sit up. There was definitely damage to his ribs, whether bruised or broken he couldn't tell. "Need…ta get ta…Manhattan."

Ruckus wrinkled his brow, "But, ya alive!"

"Ruckus." He said sharply and then groaned at the pain, "Help me."

The grey eyed boy smacked his head, "Of course. Don't question ya. I know. I just don't undahstand. Come on." He helped up Spot as carefully as he could, which was not nearly as carefully as Spot would have liked, and helped him to the bridge. It was slow going and took awhile and by the time they reached Manhattan territory Spot felt ready to give into the blissful unconsciousness that was beginning to cloud his mind.

"Go back ta Brooklyn. Ise don't…" he gasped for air before continuing, "don't want dem ta know ya…helped."

"Ya shoah, Spot?" Ruckus asked, looking worried.

Spot shot him a glare, "Just do as I tell ya."

He nodded, "Right. I'll be back in a week ta check on ya."

"Only if it's safe." Spot added and leaned on the railing as Ruckus slipped into the darkness quietly, which was such a difference from his usual clumsy self. Spot wondered briefly if the kid had more depth than he'd previously given him credit for.

When all was silent, Spot finally started to move slowly into Manhattan but about a block or so in he found himself clutching the wall of a building. In the back of his thoughts he heard a bird's song and he wondered briefly what a bird was doing out so late in the night.

Ignoring the noise, he moved forward but found himself stumbling and finally falling to the ground. He gave a groan of pain but continued to lie there, wondering if this was it. At least he wouldn't have to live with the humiliation of it all.

"Oh my!" A voice exclaimed and he tried to ignore it but couldn't as she rolled him over onto his back.

Her nimble hands ran over him, first they touched his throat and he was shocked at how warm they were before he remembered why he was even in Manhattan. Groaning, he forced his eyes open though he hadn't been aware they had been closed and met bright, green eyes "J…ack." Was all he managed to get out as pain assailed him and he closed his eyes, grimacing.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked.

If he hadn't been in agony, he'd have given her the smart ass reply of, 'everywhere.' But even that was too much.

Softly, he felt her brush his hair from his forehead and he suddenly felt angry at her kindness. He didn't need nor want her pity. He tried unsuccessfully to push her away before remembering that Tiny had broken that arm.

"Hang in there. I'm going to get help." She whispered.

"No. No help." He managed to get out as he growled one last time before slipping into unconsciousness…

A/N: Every chapter's title is a line from the song 'Say When' by The Fray. Lemme know what you all think! Review!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J~

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