A Newsies Fanfiction

From Denton's POV

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody from Newsies.

Last night, the Sun didn't set, it fell. Crashing down around my own ears. My boss, the editor, Mr. John B. Bogart told me I was fired, and that he would make sure that none of my stories were accepted anywhere, after the recent "scandal".

I hadn't the heart to tell Jack, after all, even though he deserved to know, it wouldn't help matters that one of his only allies had been beaten with a stick, did it?

I looked up at the hall clock, stuffing the bundle of privately published papers into a white bag swinging freely from my shoulder. It might be difficult to get the word out, but I wasn't going to ask for help from the boys, they had their own troubles.

"Excuse me, sir." I squeaked, bumping into a police officer on his daily beat. He didn't question me, just quirked a suspicious eyebrow.

I made my way down to a street corner, clearing my throat and wishing I looked younger. "Papers! Papers! Would you care for a paper, sir?" I looked up into the taller man's face, wincing at the stabbing realization that I looked like a bum. I had to get the message out somehow though, I'd promised the boys I would.

"Look, Billy. This is exactly what we talked about last night. You can't grow up to become a bum, like this man here." A well dressed woman was gesturing at me with her pocket book, a look of contempt on her face.

I sighed. Would the day never be finished?

"Hey ya scabbah, what does you think ya's doin' with…"

I stared down at Jack Kelly, who had a confused look on his face. I tugged my newsboy cap lower over my face, hoping he wouldn't recognize me.

"Denton? Is dat really you? Why is you goin' 'round here sellin' papes?" Jack tried to steal the cap from off of my head, but I smooshed it back on again.

"No, don't know any Denton." I tried to roughen my accent. It might not fool Jack, but for people who didn't know me, it was probably pretty convincing.

Jack pulled the cap off my head completely. "It IS you, Denton! What is you doin' heah, sellin' papes?" He repeated, gripping my shoulders and shaking me a bit. There was concern in his eyes.

I turned away, pacing back to my "news stand". "Business, Jack, as usual. I'm hiding from Bogart." That wasn't a complete lie, Bogart had threatened sending his muscle after me, especially since I was such a key component to the Newsies strike. He said it might be demoralizing to them if I were to disappear.

Jack crossed his arms. "You don't expect me ta believe that, Denton? Aftah all, you'se got a good job wit' Mr. Bogart at de Sun, why would he suddenly take ya out like dat?" He wondered. His eyes widened when he finally realized.

"Because of you boys, he'd do anything to me, Jack. Now, you get along, I don't want them finding me with you, it'll only give them more evidence." I backed away from him, only to run into a rather burly fellow behind me. "Oh, sorry."

He grabbed me by the elbow, turning me to face him. "So, Mr. Denton, my boss is lookin' for ya, and he told me ta bring ya back to the offices." He jammed me roughly in the stomach with a rubber truncheon, making me fold over gasping.

"Hey! Hey, whatcha t'ink you're doin!"

I faintly realized that Jack was trying to get me free, and despite my best efforts to struggle against the man's grip, I was no help.

"Heah, kid. Ya can have some of his punishment for 'im!" The man gave Jack a solid whack to the face, forcing him to fall back, then turned the implement on me again. "C'm on, Mistah Denton, the boss doesn't like waitin'."

I groaned, when I woke up tied to a rather comfortable armchair. "W-who…what…?" I looked up into a stranger's bearded, bespectacled face. He grinned.

"Good evening, Mr. Denton. We've been expecting you for some time now, but my idiot of an employee brought you a bit late. He was hiding from a few of your friends, I'm afraid, an unforeseen occurrence. It won't happen again, I assure you." He said politely.

I peered at his face a moment, wondering where I had seen it before, and then remembered.

"Good evening, Mr. Pulitzer. I'm sorry that my friends didn't succeed in extracting me from your company, but I suppose it would be better for me to spend the evening here." I tried to remain calm, though I must admit my heart was pounding in my chest.

"Well, at least you're polite, unlike you're newsboy followers." Pulitzer gave me a small smile as he paced the floor a bit. "Mr. William Hearst alerted me to the fact that your disappearance could quiet possibly be demoralizing to the newsboys and their cause. They seem to look up to you so much as one of their allies."

I snorted. "I suppose you could say I am. But what are you going to do with me in the meantime? Somebody's sure to see that you brought me in here, and the boys will find me through that grapevine of theirs." I'm afraid I sounded too optimistic.

He laughed. "Don't be so pathetic, Denton. As a newspaperman I would've thought that you would have learned to avoid clichés even in difficult situations. Your friends will be provided for, don't worry." He patted me on the shoulder. "You can't be kept here of course, but the Refuge hardly makes for a good place to hold grown men, so I'm going to have you transferred to the Amesbury Insane Aslyum, so be prepared."

I froze. An INSANE ASLYUM? I didn't like the sound of that…especially if it was one of those, rough and tough places, where the doctors were almost as insane as the patients. I sat up a little straighter, struggling against the ropes. "That's really your plan…sir?" I asked haltingly.

Pulitzer gave a rough laugh. "The Amesbury Asylum in Coney Island is a very well known, and good institution. I shall make sure that you are placed in the best of care, Mr. Denton, but you do have to be silenced, I'm afraid."

*Into Amesbury Asylum*

"Here's the place, Mistah Denton." The goon shoved me into the direction of the front gates where two men in white lab coats started to drag me off.

I hardly had time to blink before they pushed me into a cell and slammed the door in my face.

"Ohhhh, look! It's a fancy new gentleman!" A high voice shrieked in my ear, and I felt someone grab me around the waist. "I ain't seen such a pretty young fella in a while, huh Sal?" I cringed when I felt another woman leaning against me, playing with my collar.

"Ummm, ladies…please…" I shoved them both away gently, trying to curl up into a nearby corner.

The one dubbed Sal just giggled. "Ohhh, the laddie's afraid! But he'll be more afraid, soon, when the guard comes back. Let ol' Sal soothe your wounds for ya!" The woman tried to stroke my face, but I hid it behind my knees.

The two women shrieked when the door to our cell opened, and a guard swaggered in, uncoiling the whip that at first lay harmlessly clutched in his hand.

I gaped for a moment, when I felt my cellmates pulling me out of the corner towards the guard…no wonder no one else was in this cell, it was amazing to me that they hadn't snitched on each other. But I didn't resist when the guard pulled my shirt and vest off.

I cried out as the sharp tongue lashed out and snapped against my back.

"Stop…" I managed, and my voice was ragged. The man continued to whip me, the lashes going all over my body, not just my back. Blood dripped from multiple wounds that covered as well as the whiplashes.

The guard laughed at my humiliation. "Teach you and your lousy friends ta rebel." He gave me one last strike with his terrible friend and then left.

I crushed my face into the cold, stone floor, squeezing my eyes shut and wincing at the pain. I didn't expect Jack to find me, now, or anybody to care enough to even try. After all, what if Pulitzer said was true? That I was unwanted because of my values, and what I said in the papers.

I jerked my head up when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Mr. Denton, sir?" It was Sal. She had an honest look of concern on her face. "How're you feeling, sir?" She dipped my shirt in a cup of water and dabbed at my wounds.

"No…don't touch me, please, ma'am!" I must confess I wasn't very polite in those first few moments of our meeting, despite my ambitions to be kind to the poor souls forced to live in such squalor.

She smiled. "You have nothing to fear from me, sir, I promise you. I am perfectly sound in mind and body, here, look." She rummaged through her skirts and pulled out a card, pressing it into my palm. "I'm a reporter for the Journal. My name is Sally. Sally Hardacre."

"A reporter, for the Journal?" I turned my head so I could see her better. "My boys have been fighting against the New York Journal for some time…but I've heard about your work in reforming insane asylums. You've done an admirable job I must say."

Sally laughed. "Well, I could do better. I've read your works too, the "Newsies Banner" as they call it, and your other articles on the Newsies strike, they're very fascinating. I've always admired your work, like you've admired mine. Some people just can't think to get their hands dirty." She finished binding up my wounded back with my shirt. "That will have to do, but don't you say a word to that guard, I'm crazy you know, Mr. Denton."

I nodded. "Of course Miss Hardacre."

She winked. "Please…call me Sally, or Sal, Mr. Denton."

Author's Note: Soooo, what do you think? I know that Denton doesn't really get much love in this fandom...so I couldn't resist.