Always and Forever... Maybe *Spot Conlon*

"Are any of you represented by council?" the judge asks. The boys and I look at each other, confused. "No? Good, good. That'll move things along considerably."

"Hey Ya Honor, I object," Spot says. His shirt is barely buttoned up and he's not wearing a hat, showing off his slicked back dirty blonde hair. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the kid's too hot for his own damn good.

"On what grounds?" the judge asks, leaning towards Spot.

"On the grounds of Brooklyn, Ya Honor," Spot says. The boys start laughing and I smile. But I'm still worried about Jack.

The judge bangs his gavel and points at us. "I fine each of you with five dollars, or two weeks' confinement in the House of Refuge."

"Hey, we ain't got five dollars! We don't even got five cents!" Race protests. "Hey, Ya Honor, how 'bout I roll ya for it, double or nothing?"

The boys laugh at that, but I barely smile. Where's Jack!?

"Alright, move it along, move it along."

We start moving away as Denton and Davey burst through the gates.

"Your Honor, I'll pay the fines," Denton says. "All of them."

Davey walks over to us. "Hey, fellas, you alright? Where's Jack?"

"Look fellas, we gotta meet at the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk," Denton says.

"Hey fellas," Jack says as he's brought into the room in handcuffs.

"Jack!" I yell as Racetrack comments on his shiner.

"Hey Danny," Jack says, giving me a small smile.

Jack asks Denton about the papes covering the rally.

"None of the papers covered the rally, not even the Sun," Denton says. The boys start muttering.

A man stands and reads the list of Jack's crimes. Then comes everybody's favorite rat, Synder.

"I'll speak for this young man," he says, smiling that cruel smile of his. "This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary." Synder continues with Jack's escape as the boys' muttering continues. I'm frozen in shock. "Therefore, I ask that he be returned to the House of Refuge. And that the court order his incarceration until the age of 21 in the hope that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life."

"So ordered," the judge says, banging his gavel.

"NO!" Les and I shout at the same time. Jack glances at us newsies, his face set in stone. His gaze stops at me, but I look away, turning to Mush, who puts a protective arm around me. I can't face Jack right now.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and see Spot.

"He's a liar, darlin'," Spot says. "But so is everyone else."

We're all sitting at the restaurant when Denton walks in. Davey's been pacing, and I'm sitting between Mush and Kid Blink, thinking about Jack.

Denton tells us that the Sun didn't print the rally because it wasn't important. Then he says he was moved back to his old job as an ace war correspondent. Before he leaves, he gives Davey the paper about the rally. Then he walks right out the door.

Davey spots pacing in front of the table, crumpling the paper in his hands. "We get Jack out of the Refuge tonight. And from now on, we trust no one but the newsies!"

We all get up and start heading out.

"Are you going to the Refuge?" Davey asks me.

I shake my head. "Nah, I's can't talk to Jack right now. Good luck though, Davey."

Later, once a group heads off to the Refuge, I head towards the front door of the lodging house.

"Heya, Crutchy," I say, stopping.

"Heya Danny!" Crutchy says, smiling. He's the only person I know that never stops smiling. He's adorable.

"Hey, so, I's headin' to Brooklyn ta talk ta Spot. Think you's can make sure nobody finds out?"

"Sure Danny! I's owe you from when ya saved me from the bulls."

I smile. "Thanks, Crutchy! You's the best!"

I start to walk again when he reaches his hand to my arm. "Uh, heya, Danny, just... be careful, k? Brooklyn ain't great."

I nod. "I's know, Crutchy. I'll be back soon."

Crutchy nods and I take off running through the streets of 'Hattan. I slow when I reach the Brooklyn Bridge.

Once I reach the docks, the sky's dark. Davey and them are probably close to getting Jack out of the Refuge.

"Whatcha doin' here again?" the taller guard asks me.

"I's have to talk to Spot," I say, standing tall and crossing my arms.

The guards glance at each other.

"Let her in," a familiar voice says. The guards step back to reveal the person I was looking for.

"Hey Spot."

"Hey darlin'," he responds. He starts walking down the dock. "C'mon." He leads me to his throne of crates. None of his other newsies are around. "You came here to talk about Jack?"

"Kinda. I just wanted to say that the strike is still on. We ain't givin' up. Davey and a few othas are tryin' to get Jack out right now actually."

Spot nods slowly. "Right. I's figured you 'Hattan newsies weren't gonna stop fighting."

Silence falls between us and the noise of the night takes over.

"You knew," Spot says softly after a few minutes of silence. "About Jack."

I shrug. "I knew about his real name. He told me a long time ago. After I told him a secret. I didn't know about his parents though. And I totally bought what he said about them being in Santa Fe. I'm an idiot. I shoulda knew he was lyin'."

"Liars are difficult to spot sometimes," Spot says. "But like I said earlier, everyone is a liar, whether ya can tell or not."