you know we've got your back from way back (Spot and Dodger)

[brooklynishere]

It was rare, very rare, when Brooklyn was outmatched. It was a point of pride for Spot Conlon that there wasn't nobody who could soak Brooklyn, or anybody from Brooklyn, and get away with it.
He didn't intend to break that track record. This upstart gang from Queens is gonna get their asses handed to them.

...just maybe not today.

His eye is stinging and he can already tell he's going to have one hell of a shiner in a couple of hours, it's going to make a nice accompaniment to his split lip and the bruises blossoming up and down his ribs. Half his boys have already scarpered and honestly, Spot doesn't blame them, they're cornered and even Racetrack wouldn't bet on them winning right now, not without reinforcements.

He smacks one of them across the face with his cane and sees a break in the scuffle, Dodger already darting away down an alley. Spot dives after him.

Queens will give chase, he knows they will, but if he can lure them deep enough into Brooklyn then revenge will be swift and merciless. If they decide to fall back, he'll get them another day, when he's healed up and has the satisfaction of soaking them himself.

He makes it down two more side streets, hot on Dodger's heels, when there's a sudden yank on his braces and he's pulled off his feet with a yelp that (thankfully) gets lost in the yelling and pounding of feet.

He swings out wildly with his cane, but it's not long before he's reduced to curling into a protective ball as boots and fist rain down on him - there's four of them and only one of him, and he still ain't that big.

He's starting to feel pretty dazed by the time there's another, more familiar shout, and suddenly his attackers are falling back under a volley of stones. The cavalry's coming.

Most of the newly arrived Brooklyn boys give chase, but a couple haul Spot to his feet and start checking him over. He waves away their fussing.

"Jus' get me back home," he mumbles, jaw stiff and swollen, and they blessedly don't need telling twice. He refuses to be carried, instead slinging his arms around their shoulders for support as he hobbles back to the lodging house - or more accurately, hops; one of his legs refuses to take any of his weight without trying to buckle underneath him.

They get him back to the house, carrying him up to the bunk room and getting him sat down on the edge of his bed. A hoard of newsies crowds around him, conflicting medical advice flying in all directions.

Comments

[artfuldawkins]

"Oh, thank you kindly, my dear," Fagin said. "His name is Jack Dawkins, but he more often gos by the Artful Dodger?"

[brooklynishere]

"Now I'm pretty sure I asked who you were, and I think I ought to know that before I go finding out if we's got a boy called Dodger." Spot's words were cool and collected, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer to his question, and he didn't want to be right.

[artfuldawkins]

"Ah, right you are my dear," Fagin nodded, "better to be safe. I go by Fagin," he said, a smile that was just filled with charm.

[brooklynishere]

Spot couldn't stop the way his face set at that name, he knew it was a dead giveaway that he not only knew Dodger, but knew him well enough to recognise the name, but it happened before he could catch it.

"He ain't here."

[artfuldawkins]

Fagin spotted the way that Spot's face set, and knew he was in the right area. "As you say, only some little ones did insist I would find my dear old friend at these lodgings." He watched Spot, just waiting.

Dodger came around the corner, seeing Spot before anyone else. "Alright, Boss, what's..." His voice caught in his throat.

[brooklynishere]

"I don't care what they said, he ain't-" and he wasn't, but of course that was the moment that Dodger rounded the corner and Spot could hear the catch in his voice. He didn't even look round, just shifted to make very certain he was between Dodger and Fagin.

"Dodge go inside."

[artfuldawkins]

"Dodger, my dear!" Fagin sounds delighted. Dodger is frozen in place, his brain trying to process it. Fagin is there right before him. How the fuck is Fagin there?!

[brooklynishere]

"Go inside," Spot repeats, his gaze fixed on Fagin.

"You, get outta here." he tells the old man coldly.

"Come now, all I want is to check in on my old friend, surely there's no harm in that? Didn't you miss me, Dodger?"

[artfuldawkins]

"I..." he stumbles over the word, before rolling back his shoulders. He moves to stand beside Spot, hiding his hand enough so he could squeeze at Spot. He was not okay, but needed to pretend otherwise.

"'Course, Fagin," he said, as smoothly as he could manage, "but this ain't the place to be hangin' round."

[brooklynishere]

Spot squeezes back, subtle and reassuring, his other hand resting lightly on his cane, just in case he needs to draw it.

"Well why don't you invite me in for tea, dear boy, and we can reminisce." Fagin grins

[artfuldawkins]

"Ain't the place fer tea," Dodger said with a shrug. "Spot, ain't there a decent place a couple of streets down from here?"

He hoped Spot got it. Where can he take Fagin that was away from the kids. Away from people he might ensare.

[brooklynishere]

Spot didn't want him going anywhere with Fagin, but he at least understood that Dodger wanted him away from the lodging house - and Spot wanted that too.

"There's Rosie's on Montague, they don't mind us going in." he offered - it was a good three or four streets away, and not often frequented by any of the kids.

"Wonderful," Fagin replied, unphased "Why don't we step on over there and have ourselves a little chat, Dodger."

[artfuldawkins]

Rosie's. Yeah, Dodger knew the place. But right now?

"Got work to be doin'," he said to Fagin. "Tomorrow. 'Bout 1?"

They'd be mostly finished with the papes about 1, and he would have more of his wits about him. He hoped.

[brooklynishere]

There's a flicker of annoyance in Fagin's expression but he covers it over with the sickly sweet old man routine quickly enough.

"Tomorrow it is, Dodger dear, I look forward to it."

Spot continues to glare at him.

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger nods at Fagin, watching as he walks off. He stands tall till the old cove is out of sight and then he sags against Spot, panicking.

"How the hell is he here?"

[brooklynishere]

Spot drags him into a nearby alley so they can have a little privacy, and so he can wrap his arms reassuringly around Dodger.

"I don't know," he admits, trying to keep the anger out of his voice "But we'll deal with it, Dodge, you and me."

[artfuldawkins]

He leans against Spot, still a bit frantic, and worried. "He knows where the lodgings are, he's gonna grab some little ones an' start all over again here. Make another monster like me."

[brooklynishere]

"Jack," Spot says firmly, pulling away just enough that he can hold Dodger's face and force him to look Spot in the eyes "For the last time, you ain't a monster. And he ain't taking any of our boys, you know we're not gonna let that happen."

He knows Fagin has near mythical status in Dodger's mind and nightmares, but he's just an old man - a particularly charismatic one, but an old man nonetheless, and they can deal with old men.

[artfuldawkins]

"We ain't goin' to have a say in it," he points out. "He c'n promise them hot food that they don't need to pay for, just do a couple odd jobs for him." The memories of how it was came to his mind. "Gives you a bed, and a belly full of food, and then you'd do anythin' for him."

Fagin might be an old man, but he was more cunnin' than a fox, and if he was showing up to get Dodger, he'd put good money on Fagin already having a new set up and just wanting someone to help him work it.

[brooklynishere]

"These kids already got a bed and a hot meal, and they don't trust adults far as they can throw 'em, they trust us Dodge, we can keep them away from him." They couldn't protect every kid in the city, but they could protect the newsies at least. He could see how Fagin's promises would lure a kid off the streets that had nothing, but the newsies had a little more than nothing - just enough to make them wary of somebody promising them the world for free.

"We can take down Pulitzer, we can take down him, right?"

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger gave a nod, hoping Spot was right. Though Pulitzer had a profit margin to worry about, Fagin didn't. Still, he hoped he was right. Carefully, he looked up at him.

"You'll come with me, right?"

[brooklynishere]

"You kiddin' me? You couldn't stop me coming with you." Spot replied firmly. There was no way in hell he was letting Dodger face this alone.

"I got your back, you know that."

[artfuldawkins]

Dodger nodded. There was a brief moment when a guilty look passed his face, the thought connected to it being something he wanted more than anything, but that he would need to get it from Fagin tainted it.

"He might..." He stopped, wondering how to put it. "He might know," he said eventually, "if Sikes paid for what he did to Nance."

[brooklynishere]

"Well... we can ask." Spot said slowly "Before we tell him to get the fuck out of Brooklyn and never come back."

They could play nice long enough to get some information out of him, right?

Well, Dodger probably could anyway. Spot was more of a stand back and glare until people told you what you needed to know kind of interrogator.

[artfuldawkins]

"Might be able to charm him long enough to get the news," he said. Charming Fagin was not exactly something he was looking forward to doing, but it might need to be done. Even if he didn't like it.

And stories from his past would out. Spot would hear them, Fagin loved to tell stories to new people, to scare them away. To keep his control. Doger didn't want to think on it