Newsies Oneshots

Betrayal

I'm back!!!! And I'm super excited about this one! It's WAY shorter than my one shots usually are, but I got in the mood to update one of my stories that I've had up for awhile, because I felt I was neglecting them in favor of my new Newsies fic (shame filled self promotion: check it out-The Fifth Strike).

I actually really like this though, even though it's short. And it's not super depressing and I don't kill anyone off so you guys should be able to enjoy it too!!!

***

Wind whipped around Race, tearing at his hair and clothes and whipping his coat around behind him. He squinted into the gusts while silently cursing Spot for making him come out here in this kind of weather.

He stepped out onto the dock, his worn boots thumping against the wooden boards as he made his way over to the end where his friend sat.

"I'm here," he softly announced his presence while his eyes darted about to ensure there were no strangers to eavesdrop. He wasn't here for fun and games; this was official newsie business.

Spot didn't do anything at first and Race had to hold in an annoyed huff. Then, slowly, he turned around.

Spot quickly appraised the blond, taking note of his messy locks and wind-chapped cheeks.

"You're here," Spot noted and lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't think you was actually going to show up."

Race's nose scrunched at the comment, immediately taking offense to the assumption. "Don't sound so disappointed."

"You gonna stand there all day?" Spot had turned away again and was gazing across the water with the heels of his boots just skimming the surface.

"Didn't know I was allowed to sit next to the king," Race said coldly. Harshly. Mocking.

Spot knew the boy was mad at him, but couldn't bring himself to care. "I guess you're here about the strike."

"What else would I be here for? In case you ain't noticed, I'm not Brooklyn's biggest admirer."

Spot caught the second meaning behind Race's statement, but ignored it. "You used to live here."

"And I moved. But that ain't why I'm here now," Race said, putting the much-debated topic to rest for the time being.

"You're not changin' my mind."

Race sighed. "I know."

"Then why'd you show up?"

"I want to know why."

Spot shrugged. "What's in it for me if I join? It's more trouble that it's worth. How much money have you lost already?"

Race didn't want to respond, didn't want to give Spot the satisfaction of being right. "Nearly forty cents," he admitted.

Spot's eyes widened. Of course he'd turned Jack down. He was aware of the lack of practicality of joining the strike, and though he'd gone through the figures the first time Kelly had visited him, he was still surprised by the number. "You eatin' okay?"

"It could be worse."

"Look, Tony. I'd love to help, I really would, but I need to think about my boys and what's gonna keep us fed. Got it?"

"What about my boys?" Race tried to meet Spot's eye, but the boy kept staring at the water. "Sean; look at me."

Spot reluctantly turned to face his friend.

"What about my boys?" Race asked again.

"They ain't my problem."

Race drew in a gasp and stepped back, away from Spot, away from the boy he'd known for almost a decade, the boy he considered to be his brother.

"Theyse important to me! Doesn't that count for something?"

Spot couldn't do anything but shake his head. "It don't count enough. My boys come first."

"I can't believe you," Race spat. "This ain't about us 'Hattan newsies, it's about all the kids of New York. By helpin' us you'd be helpin' every kid in this hellhole, but you ain't gonna do it because you're selfish. Well, you know what? I don't need you! None of us need you! We can do it on our own."

Spot sat quietly, allowing Race to let out all of his anger, but as the boy finished talking he didn't seem any less upset.

"I'll help once you proves that you ain't gonna back down. I already told Kelly that. Show me you has what it takes to win; then I'll give you my full support."

Race shook his head in disgust. "Forget about it. We don't want your help."

"Race, you're being-"

Race didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. Instead he turned around and started to walk away.

Spot felt his chest tighten as the boy left. Race was angry and it was finally striking him; he was only just starting to realize how upset and hurt Race truly was. And that hurt Spot.

He was letting his friend down.

"Hey! Race! Wait a minute."

To his surprise, Race stopped and looked back at him. Spot fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a coin and tossing it over to Race, who caught it easily.

The blond had been hoping for a change of heart, and he stared at the quarter in his hand in disappointment and disbelief. "What the hell is this?"

"Take care of yourself."

"I don't want your money, I want your help!"

Race threw the coin at the ground and stormed away. Spot didn't watch to see where his hard-earned money rolled off to.

He was too focused on the retreating figure of his best friend.