Hello all, I have another Newsies tale for you! Just a fair warning, this is going to be quite sad and contains a fair amount of angst. Why? Because for some odd reason, that seems to be my forte. Now, I would just like to give some background information so that this will hopefully make a bit more sense.

First of all, this story takes place during the beginningnof the American involvement in World War I, which was in 1917. As this is clearly an AU, thr government is very evil and corrupt, and forces the newsies to become soliders in order to have a larger force. I know this is not what actually happened, for several reasons, but this is all done for the purpose of storytelling. I did try to do a bit of reseach, but it won't come in until later in the story. Many facts may have been changed, and I realize this. As it is an AU, these were done intentionally. Please bear with me, as I'm not particularly well-versed in this area of history.

Enjoy!

-Marcelle

"It ain't your fault, there's nothing you can do,"

"But if you'se all get-"

"That ain't gonna 'appen, Crutchie. Okay? We're gonna come back and we'se gonna be fine. All of us."

Crutchie Morris wished he could believe his friend. After all, Jack Kelly had never been wrong before, not for a s long as Crutchie had known him. But he couldn't see any way Jack could be right this time. Especially when he was making promises they both knew he may not have been able to keep. Especially in 1917. Especially what was now being known as "The Great War."

"This gimp leg ain't so useful no more, huh?" Crutchie chuckled dryly, his grin turning quickly into a scowl as he glared at the ground from the top of the lodging house. He'd come up there as soon as the letter had come, hoping no one would come after him amidst the chaos that had been delivered. But of course, Jack had, because Jack could always tell when one of his boys was upset. But then, upset wasn't nearly strong enough a word to describe how Crutchie felt. Devastated was more like it. Horrified. Useless. Helpless.

"That gimp leg is keepin' you alive, Crutch! It's keepin' you safe here," Jack argued, his words stern and almost angry as he knelt down to where his younger friend was sitting on an overturned box. "You'se ain't gonna have ta go ta war now. You should be happy!"

"Not when you'se all hafta go! How can I be happy when I could lose you guys?" Crutchie shouted in return, rising to his feet as quickly as he could. Jack rose as well, staring at Crutchie with shock written on his features, as though he had never seen the disabled boy worked up before. In fact, as Crutchie considered it more, he realized that this was probably the case.

He prided himself on attempting to remain optimistic in nearly any situation, but this was a scenario that didn't seem to have even the faintest inkling of a silver lining. How could there be? His friends were newsies, not soldiers. Sure, they could pack a punch when they wanted to, but how could they be expected to shoot guns at other guys while hiding in a trench somewhere in Europe? It just didn't add up.

Apparently the government had thought otherwise. They had determined that the United States military hadn't yet reached it's recruitment quota, and that the excess amounts of newsies in New York, or maybe even across the country, would perfectly suit their needs. After all, the majority of the newsies were orphans, boys who didn't have a shred of known family left, or even a penny to their names. So, the government must have thought, what did they have to lose? Why not send the newsboys out to risk their lives for men who had never given a hang about them in the first place? men like Joseph Pulitzer?

It was a foul, cruel idea, Crutchie thought, but he had to admit that it must have made sense to the big shots. There were already plenty of underage boys that were enlisting of their own will, lying about their age, and the letters the lodging house boys had received dictated that they were to do the same.

"So you'se really gonna expect the boys ta lie ta the recruiters 'bout their age?" Crutchie asked, quieter now as he leaned against the railing of the rooftop. Jack drifted over beside him, staring out over the city lights, an almost lost look on his face. Crutchie could plainly see how hard the entire situation was on him. He knew Jack considered himself the older brother of all the newsies, that he couldn't stand to see any of them hurt.

Crutchie knew how guilty Jack had felt when the first attempt of the strike had failed, when he had put the others in danger and Crutchie himself had been hauled off to the Refuge. But he couldn't possibly imagine what was going through the older boy's mind now, when the only family both of them had ever known was going off to war, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Jack couldn't keep them out of danger. And he obviously knew it.

"I...I guess we got no choice, huh?" Jack sighed, putting his full weight on the railing and shaking his head. "If we don't, they'd come afta us an' make us go anyway. Why make it harder than we gotta?"

"You're right. I just...I can't believe you'se all are gonna go without me," Crutchie murmured, avoiding Jack's eyes as his friend turned to face him. There was nothing the elder newsie could say to him, nothing he could do. Crutchie had been the only one at the lodging house who had gotten a different letter. All because of the gimp.

The government had apparently also determined that Crutchie's leg was a liability. The officially-sealed document he had received clearly outlined that he was "unfit for duty" and "forbidden from enlistment" due to the fact that he was unable to move to the full capacity of the average man. Although the letter hadn't come right out and said it directly, Crutchie could between the lines well enough to know what they were really trying to say. This wasn't for his own safety, but rather for the advantage of the military.

If they were in the middle of a battle somewhere, Crutchie wouldn't be able to fight as well as the others. His friends-or maybe even older soldiers, too-would be more concerned about keeping the little cripple boy alive rather than defending the freedom of America. If they needed to make a quick escape, he would only slow them down. There was no place for a gimp in the army, and so Crutchie was forced to stay in New York. The government had made that plain and simple to him. But that didn't make it any less painful.

"You're gonna be alright, Crutch. I promise," Jack tried to assure him, and Crutchie stared at him for a moment with a raw kind of disbelief.

"You really think I'm worried about myself? I ain't the one who's goin' overseas just ta get shot at!" The words sounded rude and almost uncalled for, even to himself, but Crutchie knew he couldn't take them back.

"This ain't my choice! If I had it my way, I'd take the place of every one of the guys! Or I'd stay here with you'se and Katherine instead of goin' over to that nightmare! But we ain't got that choice, none of us!" Jack flew away from the railing and met Crutchie's eye, his glare laced with such a ferocity that Crutchie wasn't sure who it was directed towards—himself or the situation. Most likely the latter, he decided. Jack sighed again, turning back to face the Manhattan skyline. "So we just gotta deal with it."

"What are you gonna do, Jack?" Crutchie's voice was quiet again as he scanned his friend's face. There was a determined set to it, displaying a conscious decision being formed inside, a plan being forged with a single goal in mind.

"I'm gonna keep 'em safe, Crutch. No matta what I gotta do, I'm gonna make sure they'se okay," His fists clenched around the railing, and Crutchie could see Jack swearing himself to that oath. Crutchie only hoped he would be able to uphold it

"But what if you'se aren't together? They could pretty easily split you guys up, ya know," he pointed out, shooting a sideways glance at his friend, who merely shook his head in response.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm afraid of," he said, still fixating his gaze at the city below. "I…I honestly don't know what I'd do then, Crutch. For once, I don't have all the answers."

"I wish I could help ya, Jack. Maybe you just gotta trust that they'll be okay somehow. They can take care of themselves just fine here," Crutchie attempted to reason, knowing how weak his argument was but hoping it would bring Jack at least a small bit of reassurance—he certainly needed it. But the look his older brother wore on his face proved that his efforts had fallen on deaf ears.

"Yeah, they're fine here in New York, where the bulls and the Delancys is all we got ta be worried about. But over there, where guys are gettin' killed every minute? With guns and tanks and who knows what else? I'm just havin' a hard time believin' that we'se all gonna-" He cut himself off, catching the slightly terrified look on Crutchie's face. "Aw, man, I'm sorry, Crutch. I was just tellin' ya a minute ago that we'd all be okay. Why should you believe that if I don't?" He chuckled sheepishly, something Crutchie was surprised he was even capable of at the moment. But still he could here Jack's words ringing in his years.

Of course Jack had tried to tell him earlier that they would be fine. Crutchie had been so worked up that it was probably the best course of action Jack could have taken to calm him down. But now that they had both taken time to dwell on the situation from a rational angle, the reality of it seemed to slap them in the face. There was every possibility that none of them would come out of there in one piece, or even come out at all. And the thought of losing his entire family like that, all at once, while he was stuck in Manhattan scared him to his very core.

"N-No...you're right. No sense in tryin' ta hide it, you an' me both know it's the truth," Crutchie mumbled defeatedly, sighing and beginning to shuffle his way to the ladder that led back down to the lodging house. He was hyper-aware of Jack's eyes on him as he slowly lowered himself down to sit on the edge of the roof, right above the first rung of the ladder, but he couldn't seem to force himself to acknowledge them.

"Crutchie."

Jack's voice was stern, demanding, but still the younger boy pretended to take no notice.

"Crutchie, look at me."

Well, there was no use trying to defy an order like that. Crutchie turned to face the boy who had taken him under his wing all those years ago, whose features were set in an immovable conviction.

"I promise you that we are gonna try our absolute hardest to come home. Every single one of us. We ain't got no intentions of leaving ya alone again Understand?"

The words held so much truth that Crutchie couldn't help but believe them. But still, he couldn't ignore one lingering thought, one looming doubt-even Jack Kelly could be wrong sometimes. Crutchie just wished with everything he had that it would not be this time. Not when it mattered most.