I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With David, Jack had a new selling partner, a best friend, a family, and something more. Oscar had nothing and desperately clung to the past. SLASH Jack/David Jack/Oscar.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. I hope that I did justice to her character choices.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches in this story will not be too distracting.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Cigar Box

Chapter One

Life was good for Jack Kelly in the autumn of 1899. "It doesn't get any better than this," he mused as he walked with his friends on their way to work.

The newsboys had won the strike, Jack was a hero to almost every kid in New York, and he no longer had to worry about going hungry. Mayer and Esther Jacobs had welcomed him into their home and insisted that he join them every evening for supper.

The past few months had brought many changes to Jack's life, but the biggest change of all was David. He was Jack's selling partner, his best friend, and more. Now all of Jack's needs were being met.

After buying their papers, Jack and David quickly scanned the pages for a catchy headline. There was some discussion, and a little compromise, but eventually a headline was chosen. Jack lazily slung his arm over David's shoulder, and they set out for their usual selling spot.

The crisp autumn air brought a new vitality to the city. After an exceptionally hot summer, there were definitely more people out-and-about to enjoy the clear September weather.

The morning edition seemed to sell itself, and soon their arms were empty, and their pockets full. It was still too early for lunch and much too early to buy the afternoon edition. This left Jack and David almost two hours of time for themselves. They decided to take the long way back and enjoy one of the last beautiful days before the weather turned cold.

They played a half-hearted game of tag as neither boy actually wanted to keep away from the other. Then they sprawled out on the grass looking up at the late morning sky. The boys kept the proprieties and only allowed their fingers to touch through the smooth blades of grass. They were happy and content in just being together.

All too soon, David looked at watch and sighed, "We'd better get going if we want to eat before the next edition."

Jack groaned in protest, but managed to pull himself up and walk dutifully alongside his partner. They took a shortcut through the trees and soon came out on the other side of the park.

As he stepped off the curb, David stopped in his tracks and gaped at the sight before him. "Will you look at that," he grinned.

Trudging down the middle of the street was Oscar Delancey. He was wearing an uncomfortable looking white uniform and was picking up rubble with a shovel and a broom.

Oscar looked up and saw both of the boys watching him. Despite the cool autumn air, he felt his face become increasingly hot. He quickly turned his back and continued on with his work.

"That's what I call poetic justice," David laughed.

"C'mon," Jack grumbled as he yanked David's arm a bit harder than necessary.

"Hey!" David yelped pulling his arm back. "What the heck is the matter with you?"

"Nothin'," Jack replied without stopping.

Back at the restaurant Jack made a vain attempt at eating. When questioned about his appetite, he wrote it off to a slight case of dyspepsia.

The afternoon edition also sold out quickly, and then the boys headed back to the Jacob's apartment.

David was visibly disappointed when Jack decided not to have supper with his family. Mrs. Jacob's motherly instincts took over as she felt Jack's forehead and checked his throat for any signs of illness.

"I'm okay," Jack protested as he struggled to free himself from Mrs. Jacobs' nurturing death grip.

"Don't argue with me, Jack Kelly. I've been a mother for almost eighteen years, and I know that boys only come two ways; hungry or sick. . . . Maybe what you need is a good dose of castor oil."

The thought of swallowing a large spoonful of the foul tasting cure-all turned Jack's stomach and made him gag. It took every ounce of charm and guile he could muster to escape from the apartment unscathed.

When he arrived at the lodging house, Jack only nodded when he was greeted by Mr. Kloppman. He trudged up the stairs, hung his clothes on the bedpost, and then hoisted himself into his bunk without a word to anyone.

Though it was only about six in the evening, Jack quickly fell into a deep sleep. He became restless and kicked at the blanket as he dreamed of being in locked in a dark room with no door for an exit. A low and pitiful voice called his name as Jack searched for and escape.

Jack awoke breathless, and sweaty, and felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He wasn't sure of the time, but it was now dark, and all of the bunks were filled with sleeping newsboys.

Jack dressed quickly, slipped out of the window, and made his way down the fire escape to the alley below. The night air was cool and calm, and a gentle breeze dried the beads of perspiration that had formed on his brow.

Without thinking, Jack's feet carried him along Newspaper Row to the little park across from the World Building. He stood in front of the statue of Horace Greeley and ran his hand across the raised letters of the bronze plaque. "Go West Young Man," Jack read aloud. He snorted a laugh at the irony of the quotation. It seemed so long ago that he dreamed of traveling to Santa Fe. His life with David and the Jacobs Family had changed all of that. He now had everything he wanted and needed. Jack sighed as he turned and faced the tall iron gates of the distribution center.

Suddenly a figure in the dark caught his attention. It was a young man about his own age. Jack watched as the boy looked from side to side then climbed the iron gates and jumped into the courtyard.

Jack quickly crossed the street and sneaked to the gate. He watched as the boy skirted along the wall until he reached a basement window. When the boy stopped to look around at the now deserted loading dock the dim lamps in the courtyard cast a shadowy light on his face. It was Oscar Delancey. He carefully lifted the window and disappeared inside.

Jack took a quick look around to make sure that he was alone, and then climbed the fence and sneaked to the window.

He watched as Oscar lit the oil lamp that was hanging on the wall, and then he moved some packing crates that were stacked in the corner.

Oscar stood at the wall and began counting the bricks. Eleven down from the top and twenty from the corner. He eased four loose bricks from the wall then reached in and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He took several large swallows and shuddered from the taste, and then reached back into the wall and drew out an old cigar box. Oscar took the bottle and the box over to the stack of crates and sat. He took another large swallow, then a deep breath, and then opened the small wooden box.

Jack wondered what was inside the box. It had to be something of value for Oscar to risk sneaking into the World Building. Maybe Oscar had stolen money from the distribution center and didn't have a chance to get it before he and his brother were fired and escorted from the building.

Curiosity got the better of Jack, and he quietly climbed through the window and into the basement.

"What have you got there, Oscar?" Jack smirked.

Oscar looked like he had been punched in the stomach. He snapped the cigar box closed and held it tight to his chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Oscar hissed.

"I could ask you the same question," Jack replied. "I saw you sneakin' in here and I wanted to see what you were up to. So what's in the box, Oscar? Did you help yourself to some of Pulitzer's money before they kicked you outa here?"

"What I've got in this box is none of your damn business!" He snapped.

"It must be somethin' really important if you had to hide it here in the basement and come back to get it when nobody's around. . . . Well, nobody but me that is."

"Isn't it a little late for you to be out alone, Kelly? I didn't think that your little pal Davey ever let you out of his sight. What's the matter? Did you have a lover's quarrel or somethin'?"

Jack's cheeks turned red and he could feel the heat rise from his collar to the top of his head. "Dave is none of your business," he hissed. "You keep your mouth shut about him!"

"Gee, Kelly. Did I hit a nerve? It stinks having to keep secrets, doesn't it? And it stinks even more when someone knows your secrets and waves 'em in front of your face every chance they get. How'd you like it if I was to tell all of your buddies how close you really are to Davey-boy?"

A combination of panic and anger swept through Jack's body as he closed the distance between them. "You keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you. . . Permanently!"

Oscar stood his ground. Though he was at least six inches smaller than Jack, Oscar stared him in the eye. "Take your best shot, Kelly. Let's see how good you are without your little newsie pals to run interference for ya."

They remained frozen for quite some time. Neither of them wanted to make the first move. Jack slowly leaned his head to the side causing a cracking sound to emanate from his vertebrate. The sound made Oscar cringe, but he didn't falter. Then finally, Jack made the first move. He reached out with his right hand and snatched the bottle from behind Oscar.

The whiskey burned Jack's throat as it traveled the path to his empty stomach. After a moment he regained his composure and smiled slyly at his enemy.

"So what are you doin' down here all by yourself, Oscar? You weren't expectin' company were ya?"

"I came down here to be alone, but I guess this is just one more thing I can add to the list of how Jack Kelly fucked up my life."

Jack quickly turned away from Oscar's cold stare. He wandered around the basement room as he sipped the whiskey. "Do you come down here a lot?" Jack asked without looking at Oscar.

"Only when I want to be by myself," Oscar replied taking the bottle back from Jack.

"You ain't always by yourself when you come down here are you, Oscar?"

"Why the sudden interest in my personal life, Kelly? It's not like we're friends or anything."

"I'm just makin' polite conversation," Jack replied sarcastically.

"Yeah? Like you give a damn!" Oscar replied.

There was no conversation for several minutes. Both Jack and Oscar glanced at each other occasionally, and then quickly looked away.

"Look, Kelly. You've had your fun. Now why don't you haul your ass back out that window and - - SHIT!" Oscar spat as he ran toward the window. "Son of a bitch! Nice work, Kelly."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? What did I do?"

"The delivery wagons from Brooklyn and Queens just came back. The only way outa here is blocked, and it'll stay that way until four in the morning."

"Damn-it, Oscar!"

"Hey! I didn't invite you in here, Kelly. I was just plannin' to stay long enough to have a drink or two. This is your fault, asshole."

"My fault? Keep the blame where it belongs, pal. I shoulda known that you'd fuck things up. You couldn't find your own ass without directions!"

"I guess that you're right, Jackie-boy," Oscar said as he lit a cigarette and took a long hard drag. Jack began to squirm as he watched the slow stream of smoke escape Oscar's lips. "I never did have your natural ability for finding asses," Oscar smirked.

Without saying a word, Jack swung his fist into Oscar's mouth. Oscar's head snapped back, and he stumbled a bit, but he kept his footing. He spit out the blood that was trickling from his lip and grinned.

"You feel better now, Jackie-boy?"

Jack went to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. "It's gonna to be a long night," he mumbled as he slid to the floor.

End – Chapter one

Thank you for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Happy Birthday Lady T.