I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtain-less window. Spot wasn't where he fell asleep last night. I slowly stretched, then sat up and saw that he was outside on the fire escape with Quicksilver. He rolled a ball around for her to catch, and she always snatched it up before it rolled off the fire escape. I climbed out of the window and sat down next to Spot, leaning my head on his shoulder. Quicksilver saw me and immediately dropped the ball in Spot's lap and leaped to lick me. 

"Ah, okay, okay, girl. I know you missed me." I laughed back. Spot had a small smile on his face. "Okay, okay. Down. Down, Quicksilver." I told her, gently pushing her away. She backed away from me and sat down on her haunches, tongue lolling out. Sometimes, I swear she's a dog and not a wolf. 

"I heard her scratchin' at da window dis mornin', so I went out and sat wit her. But she wanted me to play instead." Spot explained.

"Dat's what she's always like. She's real playful." I said, then thought for a moment. "Say, Spot. How'd ya get ya name? An' what's ya real name?"

Spot's eyes darkened. "I's don't wanna talk about it."

"Spot, it's not good fo' ya ta bottle up ya feelin's." I softly said, turning his head to face me. I stared him directly in the eye and his eyes seemed to soften a bit. "I's speak from poisonal (personal) experience."

"Do ya really wanna know?"

I nodded. "Besides, if ya let go of ya past, it don't affect ya as much lata."

Spot sighed and leaned his head on mine. "Well, me real name's Liam William Conlon. I's had a little brudda, but he died afta me family and me came ta America. His name was Gabriel, but we's called 'im Spot because he loved dogs." he explained, trying not to let his voice crack. I felt water on my head and looked up to see tears falling down his face. I raised my hand and brushed them away with my thumb.

"Afta he died, me parents died a some disease, an' I was left on me own. Den da Brooklyn newsie leada found me an' took me unda 'is wing. He taught me everythin' I knows. I's took up da name Spot ta honor me brudda's memory." Spot finished.

"Well, Liam, I's knows dat ya brudda is smilin' at ya from Heaven." I reassured him. 

He smiled gratefully at me. "What about you'se?"

"Well, ya didn't finish ya story, but I'll hafta hear it lata, since ya wanna hear me story."

I stared at Quicksilver, who was gnawing a tough bone I assume she had found in the dump in some alley.

"Well, I's lived in Florida fo' halfa me life. Me family an' I moved ta North Carolina when I's was around 8." I began. "I led a pretty borin' life, considerin' how dere's no newsboys in me time."

"No newsboys?" Spot asked incredulously. I nodded in reply. "Den how do dey get news ta people?"

"Well, dere's television, radio, an' somethin' called da internet." I explained, feeling awkward.

"What's dat?"

"It's hard ta explain, but dey're ways people know what's goin' on. It's also ways dat people get entertainment, instead of on the stage, like Medda's." 

"Eeesh. Ya confusin' me even mo'." Spot complained.

I laughed at his childish behavior. "Well ya didn't need ta ask what a television or radio or internet was." I retorted.

"Fine, fine. Go on."

"Well a year afa we moved, me mudda died. I's still not ova it, even six ye-ahs lata." I said sadly, tearing up. Quicksilver came over and put her head in my lap. I stroked her ears as Spot pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Hey, hey. " he murmured. "Ya mudda might've left ya, but I's knows dat ya mudda is smilin' from Heaven."

I smiled weakly. "Woid steala."

"An' even though she left, she's always in ya heart." he said softly. "An' ya have me an' Quicksilva wit ya." he added.

I lifted my head off of Spot's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. I stood up, and went back inside, with Spot behind me. Quicksilver whimpered, pacing around, not knowing where to go. I invited her inside and she jumped in.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Spot went over to the door and opened it.

"Uh, da 'Hattan newsies are goin' up against da Crib." I heard the Brooklynite say. "Dey's managin', but dey might not last long."

Spot nodded and closed the door. "Looks like our friends are callin' us." 

"Aww. I's tired." I whined, lying down on the bed. Spot's face appeared above mine a few seconds later. 

"Do I's hafta carry ya ta 'Hattan?"

"Maybe." I replied, rolling over on my side. "But-"

I didn't get to finish my sentence, as Spot picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

"HEY!" I protested. "Put me down!"

"Well, ya said you'se tired. So I's helpin' ya get ta 'Hattan."

He walked out of his room and out of the Brooklyn Lodging House to the docks.

"Boys, we got some soakin' ta do!" he yelled, and the Brooklynites immediately stopped what they were doing, grabbed their weapons, and followed Spot to Manhattan. 

Spot still hadn't put me down, and I was mumbling colorful curses at Spot and imagining the punishments I could give him. The Brooklyn newsies followed a good five feet behind us, snickering behind their hands. I glared at any who came too close or laughed too loudly. Ooh, I should come up with a punishment that involves both Spot and the Brooklyn newsies. Something that humiliated them beyond humiliation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brooklyn newsies' heads popped up all over the place outside of the distribution center in Manhattan. Spot, his closest newsies and I all jumped onto a balcony above Weasel's office, the Brooklynites holding out their slingshots loaded with rocks and marbles, and me holding my bow notched with an arrow out.

"Never fear, Brooklyn is he-ah." Spot declared, looking out and surveying the fight.

"It's Brooklyn!" Mush cried out.

"Hey, Spot!" Jack called, waving his arm to get his attention.

Spot gave a small nod and grabbed onto a paper lift pulley, zip lining down the cord it was hanging on. He kicked three guys in their backs before jumping down and spit-shaking with Jack. I shot another zip-line arrow into the fray and slid down on my bow after him. 

"Heya, Arrow." Jack greeted me. He turned back to Spot.

"So, what made ya change ya mind?" he wondered.

"I had a change a heart." Spot replied. "Arrow was able ta convince me."

Jack looked suspiciously between us and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Spot glanced at me, then shrugged and went over to the gate where the rest of the Brooklynites were waiting. He opened the gates and led them in, joining the fray. It was surprising that the Crib hadn't touched us during our chat.

I heard Quicksilver at the back of the crowd, snarling and growling at anybody she wasn't familiar with. I whistled for her, then went back to shooting anybody from the Crib. But I quickly ran out of arrows and was forced to scrounge for arrows, dagger in one hand and found arrow in the other, stabbing anyone that was about to grab me, often stabbing backhanded.

But even though I was losing arrows, the newsies weren't losing the fight. Soon enough, the Crib backed off and Denton came in with his camera.

"Jack! Boys! Freeze! Freeze!" he shouts to us. The boys scramble to be a part of the picture. I pulled Spot into the picture, and propped my arm on his shoulder as an armrest, my face holding a crooked smirk. The camera flashed, and I blinked the spots out of my eyes as the boys dispersed.

Blink made his way over to me, and anger flashed in Spot's eyes. I inwardly grinned. Seeing Spot be annoyed (and a bit jealous) was funny and adorable.

"Heya, Arrow. How's Brooklyn been ta ya?" he asked me, sending a small glare in Spot's direction. (He was jealous too? Oh wait. You have got to be kidding me.)

"Fine." I replied, shouldering my bow and hurriedly cleaning the blood off of my arrows. I stuck them back into their quiver and smiled at both of the boys.

"Well, I's off ta practice target shooting." I said cheerfully, then left quickly, trying to ease the tension between the two. Or tried to at least. See, the word "tried" is there for a reason. I attempted to ease the tension.

Spot grabbed my wrist and held me from going anywhere. "Ya good enough in target shooting, even betta dan me." he stated.

I shrugged his hand off. "I's woikin' on a new technique." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took a running start, front flipped, and quickly notched an arrow before letting it fly at the beer bottle. The arrow barely missed its target by centimeters and hit the wooden beam behind it instead. Cursing, I walked over to the beam and yanked the arrow out, examining it for any dents and damages.

"I thought I'd find ya he-ah." I heard a voice say behind me. I turned around to see Blink leaning casually against some crates.

"Whaddya want, Blink?" I asked warily, turning back to my arrow.

"Me? Why, I want ya ta be me goil." he declared openly.

I froze in my arrow examination, staring at the point of it. Suddenly, my hand was outstretched and I flung the arrow at his face with so much speed that all he saw was-actually, he didn't see anything. He heard the 'thunk' of the arrow lodge itself in the crate next to his head. He reached up to the side of his face and felt the red streaks the sharp feathers left on it. He winced in pain at first, but then smirked and yanked the arrow out of the crate and sauntered over to me.

I held my hand out, expecting to get the arrow back, but Blink placed his hand in mine and pulled me close. I gasped, then tried to pull away, but he held me back. He turned my head to face him, then quickly kissed me. Again, I tried to push him away, but the position he had me in almost immobilized me. Curse the dang newsie.

I heard a sob disguised as a cough behind us and we quickly pulled apart. We turned to see Spot glaring at us-more like Blink-and holding his loaded slingshot. Then he slowly lowered it, lowering his head at the same time, and staring at the ground.

"We's ova." he said. Then he walked away.

Blink grinned. "I's guess-"

I spun on my heel, my expression livid. Blink backed away, his hands held up in surrender. I snatched my arrow back from him.

"Dis is all ya fault!" I screamed at him, pointing the arrow-pointy side first-in his face and backing him up against the wall. "Ya might've loved me at first sight, but I'se think a ya as me brudda! Not as some lova!"

I lowered my arrow, and his expression became less frightened, but immediately became contorted with pain. He looked down to see his leg was slashed and saw blood on my arrow.

"Dat was fo' takin' a bit of me soul." I snarled at him. 

I whirled around from Blink and ran off to the Brooklyn Lodging House to find Spot.

A/N: So sorry for having to hurt Blink! TBH, he's my second-favorite, after Spot. But since Spot is my fav, I had to do something. And I know I portrayed him...I made him OOC, yes. But it was all to help the story move along. 

If I have offended Blink fans out there, I am truly very sorry. It killed me to have to write so negatively about Blink. :(