Disclaimer: Newsies is not mine. It's Disney's (I wish they were mine.) The song lyrics and inspiration are from Disney's Aladdin. Kitty is mine.

Spot sat alone on the Brooklyn docks after midnight, slowly licking the bloody cuts on his lip. It had been too close this time. He had almost been caught, and for Spot Conlon, the 'king' of Brooklyn, that was just as bad as actually being caught. Spot wasn't the fastest runner in New York, that was a fact. It was up to his logic and fists to earn the night's dinner. Usually, he got away clean. That's because usually, no one noticed the cunning boy slipping an apple or two under his hat, or a few warm potatoes into his pockets. It was when he had the chance at a whole baker's dozen, or large pie that he had to forget logic and just run.

Rif -raff, street rat, I don't buy that.

If only they'd look closer.

Spot remembered when the exceptionally fit baker caught up to him in the alley. It wasn't until after the baker got in two good, clean hits to Spot's face that he even realized what was happening. 'All this for one loaf of bread?' he had thought, while quickly whipping out his cane. He didn't hurt the baker too bad. Just enough to be able to make his escape, with a new bloody mouth and fresh loaf of bread in hand.

He couldn't believe what a big deal was made over a simple thing like bread. It was easily replaced. Before, food may not have been such a problem. A fresh loaf could be passed up, since boys being hungry for a day or two was nothing to worry about. But things seemed to be different now. Since Kitty arrived, Spot seemed to think that food had to be on the table, no matter the cost. She had to be happy, or at least satisfied. The big boys didn't seem to appreciate that Spot probably had more responsibilities than most of them thought they had.

Would they see a poor boy?

No sirree.

"Spot?"

Spot snapped out of his thoughts and turned around. Kitty, the newest addition to the Brooklyn newsies stood behind him, squinting in the darkness.

"Hey, Kitty Cat. Have a seat. It's nice out. I didn't wake you, did I?"

Kitty shook her head no.

"I was already awake." She lied. "I noticed your bed was empty. I just came to see if you were okay."

She sat staring out at the waves. Neither of them made a sound. Kitty turned to look at her leader who was still licking the wounds on his lips.

"Got yourself in a bit o' trouble today, huh, Spot?"

He turned to look at her. At first, he said nothing, but finally broke out in a grin.

"Nah, Kitty Cat. You're only in trouble if ya get caught."

He laughed to himself and calmed down again.

"But that's why I'm out here. I come out here every time I almost get caught. Bein' almost caught, for me, is as bad as getting' thrown in jail. Know why?"

Kitty shook her head again.

"Cuz if I was anyone else, if I wasn't the famous Spot Conlon, I would be in jail. But I can't do that to ya. If I was caught, you'd be helpless again, and hungry, and homeless, with no one to care for you's."

Kitty couldn't tell if he meant 'you' as in herself or 'you' as in herself and the boys.

"I can't do that because everyone expects me not to. If my boys, and the boys in every other town knew that the King of Brooklyn was beat, they might as well be beat too. That's why I have to come out here, after dark. I can't let my boys see me acting like this. When I'm like this, Kitty, I'm nothing."

Everything grew silent again. The only noise was the gentle lapping of the waves. From the corner of her eye, Kitty glanced at Spot. The other Spot. The Spot that was almost humble, that thought about and worried about things. She realized that he trusted her with this side of him. He trusted that she would tell no one of his other half, that, deep down, maybe almost cared for the boys. That deep down, maybe he wasn't as confident as his pride made him seem.

She rested her small hand on his knee to let him know that she understood perfectly.

They'd see there's so much more

To me.