And the Ostrich emerges from her hiatus to wish unlikelylovers a happy birthday! I hope this is one of the best years yet! I also hope this fic meets all your expectations! Some sad/hurt Crutchie and plenty of Jack and Crutchie brotherly love coming right up! (And, holy crap, four exclamation points... Get a grip, Ostrich...)
They had done it. They had actually done it. Jack closed his eyes for a moment, merely reveling in the cheers and whoops that echoed across the square. The newsies had managed to win the strike, had somehow convinced Pulitzer to allow them to be able to sell back whatever papers had not been sold. Jack was ashamed that he had ever doubted the newsies, that he had lost faith in the cause. Of course, there had been reason to do so. That memory Jack had shoved to the back of his cognizance, reared back to remembrance, cold and uncomfortable, lodging like an iceberg in the base of his stomach. Crutchie. The crippled boy had been taken to the Refuge, dragged off by his bad leg, locked away where Jack couldn't rescue him, although he had tried.
There had been one night, shortly after Crutchie had been taken, that Jack had attempted a rescue. He recalled the way Crutchie's fingers had gripped the iron bars to keep the younger boy upright, the way Crutchie's shoulders had slumped inward when he had told Jack that he wouldn't be able to get out, the way Crutchie's eyes had lowered, their brown orbs dull and defeated. Jack couldn't seem to forget the shaky sigh that had whispered across the insurmountable distance between the boys before Crutchie had reassured Jack, "I'll be fine. Good as new." His voice had been soft and trembling, but the younger boy had somehow managed to quirk half a smile up for Jack. "Go win the strike," Crutchie had whispered. The smile had faltered for a moment, before Crutchie had added, "Don't—don't forget 'bout me here. I'll be waitin'."
And Jack hadn't forgotten, would never have forgotten. But he still hadn't gotten the younger boy out; Crutchie was still waiting. Jack could picture that hopeful smile falling as the darkness and hatred that encompassed the Refuge slowly but ever so effectively snuffed out the life of a too-optimistic crip. Jack couldn't bear to let that happen, not while he still had breath in his lungs and a burning within his chest. He started to edge his way out of the crowd, planning on going straight to the Refuge and he wouldn't stop for anything until Crutchie was back by his side, grinning like nothing had happened.
Or, at least Jack hoped that that was what it would be like.
He remembered all too clearly how he had been after the Refuge. It had happened only once before, after having been caught stealing bread for some of the boys at the Lodging House in the winter. They had been starving and Jack had no regrets about snatching the bread; only wished he hadn't been taken to the dark, horrid building where happiness was only an oft-thumbed memory that began to fade as time stretched on. Jack had only been in there for two weeks—not the full month that most boys were subject to when they were taken in—before he had been able to escape. But those two weeks still haunted him, still jerked him awake at night, his brow slick, his fingers grasping at reality, and his chest heaving as he fought to quell those memories.
Jack hated to think that anything like that would happen to Crutchie. It had only been a week since he had been dragged off to that awful hell, so maybe…
A vicious whistle split the air, pulling Jack away from his worrisome thoughts and yanking his attention to the edge of the square. A collection of cops began pouring into the square, their badges glistening in the bright sunlight and evoking memories of billy clubs swinging downwards, of bruises blossoming, of a familiar voice crying out, "Jack, help! Jack!" Their win had been a mirage and Jack had been a fool to think that Pulitzer would have ever allowed them to be free from his greedy rule. Jack was poised to run, his muscles straining as he calmed the adrenalin that urged him to flee, to escape. But these cops weren't railing on the newsboys and Jack half-entertained the thought that maybe they had come to join in the celebration of the newsies' win.
From the back corner of the crowd, a familiar movement caught his eye. Jack's breath caught in his throat as he leaned forward, straining to ascertain if that— It couldn't be… He wasn't— Sun beams illuminated the figure that Jack was so hesitant to confirm, lighting up a lopsided smile that Jack had feared he may never see again and suddenly, the distance was suffocating and Jack needed to be over there. This. Very. Instant.
The crowd of cheering newsboys seemed to anticipate Jack's movement and parted around him with little jostling. He surged forward, breaking through the last remaining boys that separated him and his brother. "Crutchie," Jack managed to breathe, before pulling the younger boy into a tight hug. "Crutchie," Jack repeated, his grip not lessening as he felt the other boy's arms grasp around him just as tight, "I thought—I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." Jack's words were jumbled and he wasn't sure how sensible he sounded at the moment, but it didn't matter. Jack didn't care if he babbled mindlessly for the next week, just as long as his brother was safe and by his side. "I tried, but I—I'm just so glad—I'm sorry, Crutch, if I had known—I woulda gotten you outta there sooner but—oh, Crutchie, I'm just so, so very sorry."
"It's okay, Jack," Crutchie said and Jack hadn't realized how much he missed Crutchie's voice until the other boy spoke. "It's okay; I'm okay." Crutchie pulled out of the hug and Jack ached to hold onto the boy for a while longer, just to ensure that he didn't disappear once again. With a grin, Crutchie continued, "We're all okay, yeah, Jack?"
"Yeah," Jack agreed, because now those words could have a truth to them. Crutchie was back. He was safe. He was smiling. "Yeah, Crutch, we're all okay." And they would be. They would have to be. Because anything less than okay was simply unacceptable.
Jack had kept a careful watch over Crutchie once the boy had been cheerfully welcomed back to the Lodging House. Crutchie was all grins and smiles, the only evidence that anything had happened written across his face in smudged bruising. Now, Jack finally allowed a genuine smile to spread across his face because Crutchie had gotten through the Refuge without being tarnished. The smile stretched at muscles that had remained unused for the past week or so, aching at the now-foreign action. He leaned forward against the railing of the roof, staring out at the City that he had finally beaten. The rest of the boys had gone to bed nearly an hour ago, but Jack had been unable to sleep and had made his way up to the roof to be alone with the thoughts that ravaged his mind.
So many things had happened so quickly and Jack was still trying to weather the tidal wave of emotions and events that had battered him back and forth. Starting the strike, Crutchie's capture, everything with Katherine; there hadn't been much time to be alone and think. But, now the strike was over. Crutchie was home and safe. And Katherine had expressed that she was willing to follow Jack wherever he needed to go. Everything was finally looking up.
"Jack!"
With a start, Jack jerked to the side, quickly searching for whoever had called his name. Clambering up the fire escape, Romeo flung himself up onto the roof. "Jack!" the younger boy shouted again, his eyes wide.
"What's going on?" Jack quickly asked, anxiously wondering what was bothering the petite, black haired boy. Everyone in the Lodging House had been asleep an hour ago; what could have possibly gone wrong in so short a time?
"Crutchie, he—" Romeo began, but Jack didn't wait around for the boy to finish his thought.
With speed spurred on by fears half-imagined and that shaky sigh echoing through his mind, Jack nearly hurled himself off the roof in his effort to scramble back down the fire escape. He took no notice of where Romeo was, leaving the boy behind in favor to go find his best friend, his brother. It only took a few short minutes to make his way back into the Lodging House, but to Jack, it felt as if it were seconds stretching to minutes stretching to hours stretching on into the eternities.
Jack hurled himself into the room, quickly taking in the scene. The majority of the boys were still in their beds, their eyes trained on the bottom bunk across the room that Crutchie had claimed as his own. A couple boys—Jojo, Mush, and Buttons—were standing around the base of the bunk bed, blocking Jack's view of Crutchie, who he suddenly, desperately needed to see. As Jack approached Crutchie's bed, he narrowly avoided shoving Mush to the side for the laughably inexcusable fault of being in his way. Luckily, Mush sensed Jack's desperation and side-stepped out of the way. "Crutch," Jack breathed, finally catching sight of the younger boy sitting up in his bed, his blanket bunched up around his legs. Race was sitting on the bed next to Crutchie and shook his head slightly when Jack glanced at him.
"I told ya," Crutchie muttered, not making eye contact with Jack. "You didn't hafta get Jack. I'se fine."
"Sure ya are, kid," Race murmured, rolling his eyes. "He had a nightmare," he explained, getting up and allowing Jack to take his spot.
Crutchie finally risked looking up at Jack and Jack's heart panged painfully at the bruises and scrapes that shadowed Crutchie's face. Glaring evidence that Jack had failed his brother. "Sorry to bother ya," he whispered.
"Hey, don't worry 'bout that," Jack said as Race shooed the rest of the boys back to bed to give Jack and Crutchie space, which Jack was thankful for. "You want to talk 'bout your dream?" Jack asked softly. He couldn't say nightmare. It was too heavy a word, too unwieldy. Too guilty.
"Nah, I'm fine," Crutchie said. "Really, Jack." Jack reached out to sling his arm gently around Crutchie's shoulder, but quickly jerked his arm back when Crutchie flinched. "I'm sorry," Crutchie whispered. "I—I'm sorry."
"No, that's fine," Jack lied, his arm dropping heavily to his side. He couldn't expect Crutchie to be completely fine after his stint in the Refuge. That was unfair. But, that didn't keep Jack from stifling under the need for human contact. "You want to come up to the roof?" Jack offered, knowing that the roof had always been a comfort to the younger boy and needing to do something to erase that mournful look that pulled Crutchie's constant grin out of existence.
Crutchie shook his head slowly. "No, but thanks, Jack. I just wanna stay right here for now." Crutchie glanced up at Jack. "I think I'll just go back to sleep now. I'm sorry I woke all you'se guys up," Crutchie apologized to the group of boys.
"Don't worry 'bout it," Finch said, turning over and pulling his blanket up to his chin.
"And," Crutchie added, turning back to Jack, "I'm sorry they had to go get you. I'm fine, really." The boy nodded earnestly at Jack, no doubt trying to prove that he was okay, but the movement was jerky, stuttered, and spoke of a necessity to provide proof to Crutchie just as much as to Jack.
"Okay," Jack replied, somewhat doubtfully. "But, kid, if ya need anything, or anyone to talk to, I'm here. I've been through a lot of the same crap."
Crutchie smiled wanly. "Thanks, Jack. I will," Crutchie promised.
So, why did Jack doubt that he would?
Jack pushed through the line, squeezing past different newsies toward the front of the crowd waiting for the gate to open so they could purchase the papes they would be selling that day. It had been a couple days since Jack had been alerted of Crutchie's nightmare and he wasn't entirely sure that the other boy was doing as well as he claimed. Jack had offered for Crutchie to join him up on the rooftop each night, but Crutchie had declined, saying that he was fine in the Lodging House. Jack had been disappointed and a little hurt, but had stopped bugging the younger boy. He owed Crutchie at least a little peace. It was the least Jack could do after managing to lose his brother to the Refuge.
Even if Crutchie didn't think he needed to be on the rooftop, to be spending time with Jack, that didn't mean that Jack was going to let their friendship fade away like this. He pushed forward with renewed determination, finally reaching Crutchie's side. The younger boy was staring despondently into the distance, mindlessly rubbing his bad thigh. Jack hesitated a moment before crossing the small distance that separated them. He had known Crutchie for nearly as long as he could remember and, yet, Jack wasn't sure that he had ever seen the boy look so… so utterly dejected. So lost and hopeless. So alone. Crutchie's eyes were drooping, unfocused, the corners pulled down. That eternal smile was lacking, his face neither sad nor happy, merely blank. Terrifyingly blank. Shaking away the horrible feeling that Jack wasn't going to be able to fix whatever was ailing his friend, Jack stepped into Crutchie's line of vision, waving his hand to catch the younger boy's attention. "Hey, Crutch, how're ya doin'?"
Crutchie half-turned to Jack, a smile widening his features. "Great." Liar. When Jack continued to watch the boy, suspicion narrowing his eyes, Crutchie continued. "A bit tired, but that's it."
"You still having bad dreams?" Jack asked.
"No, not the past couple nights," Crutchie said. Jack still didn't quite believe him, but Crutchie protested, "Honest promise, Jack. I ain't had a single nightmare since that night Romeo had to go get you."
"Okay," Jack said, though he wasn't sure how much he believed the blonde boy beside him. However, there hadn't been any reports of Crutchie having nightmares from any of the other newsies and Jack suspected that they would have confided in him if Crutchie's sleep continued to be interrupted by haunting memories and what-ifs that lurked in the dark recesses of anyone's mind who had been subjected to the terrors of the Refuge. And without any proof, Jack was forced to accept the possibility—however much he doubted it—that Crutchie was telling the truth and was no longer waking to nightmares.
The gates opened and Jack and Crutchie stepped forward to purchase their papes. Crutchie reached the counter first. "Twenty papes," he said softly, before pushing his coins across the counter to Oscar, who leered at him.
Jack shot Crutchie a confused look which the blonde boy pointedly ignored, before buying his normal fifty. Once they had received their papers and walked a little past the distribution center, Jack confronted his friend. "So, what was that about?"
"What?" Crutchie asked softly, carefully putting his papers in the messenger bag he had slung over his shoulder. He didn't make eye contact with Jack, focusing on the task of organizing his papes so that none of the edges would get wrinkled.
"You know exactly what. Why did you only get twenty papes? You can sell thirty on a bad day!" Jack exclaimed.
Crutchie shrugged. "I just felt like only gettin' twenty," he said. His voice was… it was different, but Jack wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. It was smaller, softer. It reminded Jack of the Crutchie he had first met, alone and too frightened to trust anyone else in his life. That stung. Had he really screwed up so badly by allowing Crutchie to be captured and dragged off to the Refuge that Crutchie no longer trusted him? The thought terrified Jack. He had spent many a sleepless night imagining all sorts of horrific outcomes to Crutchie's time in the Refuge, but not once had he envisioned that Crutchie would no longer trust him, that that bond between them would be lost forever. But, now, it sure seemed as if… No, Jack couldn't accept this. He wouldn't.
"Are you sure you're doing okay?" Jack repeated, finally forcing Crutchie to make eye contact with him. There had to be another reason to explain Crutchie's actions, the way his eyes shifted away from Jack's, the soft tremor that colored his words, the nails that had been bit down until they bled, faded red staining the pale beds.
"I'se fine," Crutchie replied, shooting Jack a grin. "I've got to get going, though. I'll see ya later," he said, hobbling away, his bag nearly empty with the lack of papers.
Jack watched the boy make his way down the street. He didn't exactly know what had happened but he needed to fix it. Jack growled in frustration, turning out of the square angrily. It really was his fault, or else Crutchie would have come to him, would have talked to him. But Crutchie was distancing himself and Jack wasn't blind enough to miss why Crutchie would feel he needed to do this. Jack had broken the trust between the pair, hadn't even moved to help Crutchie when he had been taken to the Refuge. He had betrayed his own brother because he had been a coward. And Jack was willing to do anything as penance for his mistake—his fatal fault—but he couldn't bear to lose Crutchie. Not his brother. Not like this.
He desperately wanted to fix everything, but Jack had no clue how to go about doing that. He didn't even know where to start. Or, worse, he didn't even know if Crutchie wanted him to bridge the ever-growing rift between them. And if Crutchie didn't want the chasm between them to be bridged, Jack knew it would never happen; he couldn't fix it all on his own.
Couldn't do anything on his own, actually. Or, rather, he didn't want to do anything on his own. He wanted Crutchie to stay by his side, Jack just doubted that Crutchie wanted that anymore. The other boy had looked so alone, so helpless and, yet, he never once approached Jack.
What had Jack done?
Jack awoke to a soft rain drizzling onto the roof. He rubbed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of water washing over him. Glancing at the mattress beside him, Jack frowned at Crutchie's absence. The younger boy had been avoiding him and the abyss between the friends was shredding Jack's nerves; he was becoming a nervous wreck and all the newsboys could tell it. Crutchie had been carefully keeping his distance and Jack couldn't understand what was going on and why Crutchie refused to spend time with him. Jack had tried to talk to him countless times when they were alone and it was just the two of them, but Crutchie had always muttered some excuse and had left Jack.
With a sigh, Jack realized that he would have to head down and into the Lodging House or risk getting completely soaked. It was late, though, and he'd have to be quiet to avoid waking any of the other boys up. Careful to avoid slipping on the slick fire escape, Jack made his way down, off the roof. He crept into the Lodging House, slowly opening and closing the door to ease it off of its squeaky hinges. He had made it only two steps into the building, when he noticed a figure slumped forward at the table, slowly tapping his fingers against the wooden surface.
Jack paused, staring at the figure's appalling posture. He crept closer, trying to ascertain which newsie was up at this ungodly hour and what they were doing. Jack's eyes skipped from the figure to a long wooden rod leaning up against the table beside him. Crutchie. But what in the world was he doing awake at this time of night?
Softly, Jack called out, "Crutchie?"
The figure jerked up, turning to Jack guiltily. "Jack, what're ya doin' up? It's late."
"Strange. I was 'bout to ask you the same thing."
Crutchie shrugged as Jack sat down in the chair beside him. Now that he was closer, Jack could clearly see the red rimming the other boy's eyes and the way the orbs were practically glazed over. "Wasn't tired," Crutchie admitted.
"Liar," Jack gently accused. "Now, what's really botherin' you?" he asked, reaching across the distance to place his hand on Crutchie's knee. Crutchie flinched backwards, out of Jack's reach.
"Sorry, I—sorry. I just want to be alone. I'm fine, Jack. I promise."
"You ain't fine. And, Crutch," Jack quickly added, when Crutchie opened his mouth for a retort, "I don't expect you to be fine. You was in the Refuge and it's unfair of anyone to expect you to just pick yourself up and be the exact same Crutchie you was before. I know what it's like there, yeah? And I just want you to know that you shouldn't be too hard on yourself, alright?" Jack hesitatingly stood up when Crutchie made no move to respond, his dull eyes fixated on the table before him. Crutchie didn't want him around, didn't want him to help; Jack knew that, but that didn't lessen the painful tightening of his chest. "I'll leave ya to your own."
Jack ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could help Crutchie, but unless the other boy was willing to open up to him, there was nothing Jack could do. There was nothing else he could think to do. Jack took two steps toward the room he shared with Crutchie and a couple other boys, before Crutchie called out his name, "Wait, Jack!"
"Yeah?" Jack asked, turning around immediately.
Crutchie half-shrugged, before quietly asking, "Do you mind stayin' out here? Just for a couple minutes or so?"
"Course I will, kid," Jack said, retaking his seat beside Crutchie. "You wanna talk 'bout anything?"
"Could you, maybe, just tell me something nice? Like, what's the best thing that's happened to you so far?"
"Hm," Jack muttered. "There's been a couple good things happen to me. Joining up with the newsies, running into Katherine, meeting Davey, winning the strike, making money selling those cartoons, and, of course, finding you," Jack said, nudging Crutchie, who, he was pleased to note, didn't flinch this time.
Crutchie smiled softly. It wasn't like the broad, sun-splitting grins that Crutchie used to always sport, but it was genuine. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah, of course. You'se my brother, remember? Which means I won't ever let you down. And, Crutch, I'm real sorry 'bout you being taken to the Refuge. That was my fault, but I won't let anything like that happen ever again. Never. I swear, Crutchie."
"It's fine. I'll be fine," Crutchie reassured Jack. He fell silent and Jack made no move to break the silence, allowing the younger boy to sort through his thoughts. Eventually, Crutchie spoke up, his voice muted with shame. "Do you still get nightmares sometimes?"
"I do," Jack said, softly.
"Bout the Refuge?"
"Yeah," Jack said, not really wanting to go further into the images and scenes that haunted him some nights.
"I do, too," Crutchie admitted.
"That ain't nothin' to be ashamed of," Jack said, aching to swing an arm around Crutchie's shoulders and hold him tight. However, he wasn't sure how the younger boy would react and he wasn't willing to ruin whatever progress had been made just to satisfy his own desires. Crutchie shrugged and Jack hesitatingly asked, "Is that why you're not sleeping?"
Crutchie lowered his eyes. "I just don't want to be wakin' up the other boys."
"Hey, Crutch," Jack said, "You remember, a couple years ago, when I got back from the Refuge?" He waited until Crutchie nodded, before continuing, "And do ya remember all those nights when I'd wake ya up after having a nightmare?"
"That's different," Crutchie muttered.
"No, it's not. See, we'se brothers, which means that if one of us is having a hard time, there's always someone to come to. I go to you and you go to me. That's how it works."
"It's just that I wasn't there nearly as long as you were," Crutchie pointed out. "If I were stronger, I wouldn't even be bothered by all this." As Crutchie finished this sentence, his voice dropped down, suddenly wet and defeated. He lowered his eyes, his hand unconsciously reaching for his bad thigh, rubbing at the gimp leg like a worry stone and refusing to meet eyes with Jack, whose heart lurched painfully at the sight.
This time, Jack wasn't able to resist the urge to hug Crutchie and quickly wrapped his arms around the younger boy. "That just ain't true, Crutch. Anyone in the Refuge is gonna have nightmares, whether they was there for a day or a month. Besides," Jack added, releasing Crutchie, "you'se loads stronger than I. I know that I wouldn't've been able to survive this long if I hadn't been talking to you right after I got out. You'se lasted a week by yourself and I wouldn't've made it that long. You'se the strongest of the whole lot of us."
Crutchie ducked his head, hiding a grin as his lips shifted between the grief and fear that continued to cling to the younger boy and the pride and joy that sprouted at Jack's comment. "Nah, that ain't true. But, I appreciate the thought, just the same."
"So," Jack began, "does this mean that when you have a nightmare, you'll come to me? You'll talk to me 'bout all the garbage hangin' round your head?"
"I guess," Crutchie said.
"I'd offer for us to go to the roof, but it's raining," Jack said, gesturing to his wet shirt.
Crutchie laughed. "I coulda told you that," he said, his hand waving to his bum leg.
Jack ruffled Crutchie's hair, before asking as nonchalantly as he could, "You headin' to bed now?"
"Yeah," Crutchie said, standing up. "I think I am."
I hope you guys all loved it (especially you, unlikelylovers!) but this definitely isn't the last of me. When I checked the requests I had for birthday one-shots, I saw that I had three in January and I thought, "Wow, that's quite a bit for one month." Then I looked closer and they're all in the same week, so, needless to say, I've been writing and editing and tweaking like crazy! Three more one-shots for all of y'all! Plus, next week I hope to be getting back to my weekly updates with The Hearts of the Palominos.
Anyway, if you haven't submitted a request for a birthday one-shot, feel free to shoot me a PM or leave a review. I'm not taking any more for January, but February and beyond is still fair game! You can also check my profile to see the types of requests I have already received and am currently working on.
Also, please review! I love seeing what you all have to say about my stories and it really helps inspire me to keep writing!