Newsies Oneshots/Crack

11- Lullabye

AU- AU where during the strike, after Brooklyn joined the fight, Racetrack was too distracted seeing Spot to notice that there was someone behind him with a weapon.

Ships- Sprace. Very Sprace.

Warnings- Bl00d, violence, swearing, major character death, gun.

A/N- So we're singing Lullabye by Billy Joel in class and it gave me this idea for some reason... this is one of the angstiest things I have probably ever written so yeah have fun with that. Yes there are lyrics from Lullabye in here, but I won't spoil why.

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"Never fear, Brooklyn is here."

Racetrack froze, looking up and smiling. They were really here- they were here to help them!

"SPOTTIE!"

Racetrack looked overjoyed- he felt overjoyed, so it made sense. What didn't make sense to him was the horrified look on Spot's face. "What?"

"RACER, LOOK OUT!"

Race heard it before he felt it- the piercing sound of a gunshot. The sound that made time around him freeze, as everyone stopped fighting to turn and look. He fell to the ground, blood soaking through his favorite shirt, his cigar flying out of his mouth.

"RACER! SHIT!" Spot leapt down, pushing through people and grabbing Race. He dragged him out of the fight, his gaze daring and cop to yell at him for opening the gate. Halfway to the lodging house, Race stopped him.

"Spottie."

"Racer, not now! We- We have to get you somewhere safe, you- you have to be okay! You can't not be okay, please!"

"Spottie," he repeated, his voice eerily calm. "It's over."

"No, it's not! Not if I can help it! Come on, I need you- just a bit further!"

"Please sit down with me, Spottie. I'm not gonna make it to the lodging house."

"No! You..." Spot trailed off, his voice breaking. Silently, he sat down in an alley, Race in his arms. His lover didn't look like himself- he had no cigar, his eyes were dull, his usual comedic demeanor was gone... he looked like a shell of himself.

"Spottie." Race smiled up at Spot. "Do you wanna hear a joke?"

"A- A joke? Can you- please don't be silly right now, you can't..."

"Come on... I just want to see your beautiful smile... one last time."

One last time.

It rang in Spot's ears.

This wasn't fair, Race was so young... there shouldn't be one last time yet.

"Fine... what's the joke?"

"What's a dog's favorite state?"

Spot fought himself not to cry at the thought that this might be the last of Race's terrible jokes he would ever hear. "I don't know... what is it, Racer?"

"New Yorkie."

A smile tugged at Spot's lips, a sad one, but one still. Race smiled.

"See? That wasn't too hard... I'm gonna miss that smile." Race weakly laughed, blood beginning to pool on the floor underneath him. Feeling too weak to sit anymore, he gave up and laid down, Spot following. Spot held him close, his face buried in Race's chest. He wasn't usually emotional. He thought it made him weak. But part of him decided it was okay to be weak for this. He didn't want Race to leave him... he didn't want Race to be in pain at all. He had no idea what to do.

"Spottie..." Race pulled him closer. "Please don't cry..."

"Racer, I-"

Having a very stupid but very thoughtful idea, Race pulled Spot closer, stroking his hair. See, Race had a nightmare once while he was staying in Brooklyn. And Spot had sung a song to him to calm him down, one he said his mother used to sing to him. So he did what basically anyone else wouldn't do with their last few moments alive.

"Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on..."

Spot froze as he heard his lover's shaky voice, openly sobbing. He couldn't believe Race remembered... he really was the best. And that just hurt Spot more at the thought of losing him.

"Racer..."

"They... never die..."

"Racer, stop-"

The song was clearly getting harder and harder for Race to sing as moments went by, but he was determined to use anything and everything left in him to make Spot feel better. If that meant using his last breath to sing to him, so be it. He weakly lifted his hand to stroke Spot's hair, and he knew it was almost time.

"That's how you, and I..."

"I love you, Racer."

"Will be..." The last two words barely came out, much more a whisper than a song. But to Spot they meant everything. Race felt himself slipping- he felt his hand falling, he felt his body stop responding to his commands. He felt his voice go silent and he felt his vision fade. He felt every sensation around him cut off- everything but his hearing.

And as he listened to Spot panic, begging him to wake up, his heart shattered. But he couldn't do anything about it. He so wished he could speak, he wished he could have responded to Spot. He only wanted to say one thing in that moment.

I love you too, Spottie.