I must say, I'm surprised at how much positive feedback the first chapter of this got! It seems the fandom enjoys darker things? Hm, food for thought.

Anyway, here's then second chapter of this incredibly depressing tale. I hated to write this after seeing the tour a while back (which was incredible-Dan Deluca is great onstage and so approachable afterwards!), but I managed. I hope this one turned out as well as the first, I feel as though it's little rough.

Oh, and sorry about Romeo.

-Marcelle


There were no papers that morning.

Every business was shut down in accordance with the reaping, even the large and overbearing offices such as The World, with the exception of the doctor's office and the police station in town. Of course, the station was swarming with Peacekeepers as Jack walked by, their white uniforms glinting in the slowly rising sun.

Nature itself seemed reluctant to start the day, and Jack couldn't blame it. His own sense of dread was mounting by the second, because he could only expect the worst.

He had told Crutchie not to worry, that none of them would be chosen, to drive even the notion of it from his mind, but the practice of such ideals was not as easy as it was to say them. The darkness of the rooftop last night had made it less of a challenge to mask his own fear, but the daylight exposed it for all it was worth.

If any of the boys were picked again, the second year in a row...Jack couldn't begin to imagine what it would mean for the rest of them. For him.

Morale had been improving in the year since Romeo was taken from them, slowly but surely recovering from the blow it had sustained. Even Race had more or less dragged himself from the depression that Jack had worried he would never snap out of, and a relative cheerfulness seemed to become a regular part of the routine once again.

To see his family shattered again was something Jack feared he would not be able to handle. In a way, he was almost glad that the reaping was that morning. It would finally ease the tension that had been steadily growing in the lodging house over the last few days.

He made his way down the streets of Manhattan, taking in a rare day of almost-silence. The paved roads were being tred by people, just as they were every morning, but there was a certain stillness to them all the same. They seemed nearly hesitant to get where they were going, a feeling Jack felt stirring in himself as well.

He was only out this early at all to submit one more tesserae application, one more chance to increase his odds of being chosen, no matter how much it hurt.

His hands still shook from dropping the thin paper into the round, clear bowl, watching it sink, deceptively harmless, into the sea of fate that laid before him. Jack almost couldn't remove the image of it from his mind, and wished he could roam the streets until his head was clear. But the reaping hour was fast approaching, and he needed to return to the lodging house sooner or later.

He needed to be there for the boys, especially today of all days.

Quiet murmurs greet him as he lugged the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room, the nervous tension that filled the air hitting him like a slap in the face. The usual scattered, playful disposition of the newsies had all but vanished, exposing them in a way that Jack only really saw once a year. The boys were scared, no matter how they all attempted to conceal it. Their wide eyes and anxious glances gave them away.

"Mornin', fellas," Jack swung at forced cheerfulness as he shut the door behind him, locking the heat from outside into the room with them. Race was the first to approach him, as Race usually was when he had something to say, and the look his face now told Jack that this time was no different.

"The boys an' I were thinkin', Jack," he cut right to the chase, leaving no time or patience for preamble. But then, Race never had been one for theatrics. "What if we didn't show up today?"

"What?" Jack replied almost automatically, the shock of the words shooting the exclamation from his mouth. Race couldn't seriously be thinking...

"Yeah, we just stay here and refuse to go the reaping. I mean, what could they do? The dang Capital can't catch all of us," Race gave his reasoning, the surrounding newsies offering various affirmative comments. It was clear they had all been considering such a breach in protocol, and Jack couldn't deny the small burst of pride that flowed through him for the briefest moment.

These were his boys, his brave battalion. They wouldn't take anything sitting down. But this time, they had to see the error in the their ways, the flaws in their plan. Some fights just couldn't be won.

"Sure, not all at once. But I bet you anything they'd get the rest of us through the Games. Don't put it past 'em ta rig the thing," Jack sighed at the thought, internally wincing at the scowl that spread across Race's features.

His second-in-command had been a large contributor to Jack's ever-present worry recently, having been locked in his own realm of solitude for the better part of the year. He had been the closest to Romeo of anyone in the lodging house, and Jack had seen personally how protective Race had been of their youngest member.

He'd confided in Jack that the guilt had almost eaten him alive after the reaping, how he had convinced himself that he'd failed as a brother when Romeo had needed him most, how the loss had worn away at him. Race had written himself off as useless, a creature of no further value, and it had taken no less than the entire clan of newsies to show him otherwise.

He had undergone a tremendous recovery across the last few months, but Jack still tread carefully around certain topics, should Race's own suppressed emotions get the better of him-just as they were about to now.

"We can't...I can't...there ain't no way I'm goin' there today, Jack," Race finally spat, staring at the floor and tightly clenching his fists. Any lingering conversation ceased as the rest of the boys watched the scene play out apprehensively, seeming to want to get involved but not quite knowing how.

"They can come and drag me away for all I care. I ain't gonna let them just win, not after they..." Race trailed off as though stopping to compose himself, and Jack took the momentary opportunity to cut in.

"We have to," he simply pointed out in reply, in no mood to argue with Race on the matter. He had no desire to force himself back to the square, to stand in the heat and merely watch as one life was ripped apart after another. He was not looking forward to the helplessness he knew would grip him at the thought that he, Jack Kelly, could do nothing to save these people, could do nothing to even save his own family.

But the Peacekeepers kept a tight eye on the reaping attendance, and would know in a heartbeat if an entire gang of newsboys was missing from the crowd. There was no escaping the reaping, not a chance, and the boys had to see that.

"But-but what if we didn't, what if we can't-" Race's voice rose until it almost reached a shout, obviously beyond even trying to disguise his desperation at the thought of going back to the place where his life had fallen apart. Every step he took would remind him of Romeo, that much Jack knew. The boy's memory plagued him as well, but it was time to put on a brave face.

"C'mon, Race. I know how you feel, I promise ya I do. But if we don't go, it'll be worse later," Jack reminded him, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and watching as a resignation spread slowly across his face.

"Yeah. Okay. You're right," Race mumbled, not even bothering to argue anymore, abruptly shrugging off Jack's hand and heading towards the back of the room. Several of the others watched him go, Specs even standing as though he wanted to follow but instead sitting back down again.

Jack surveyed the group of them, these boys who had hardship worked into their bones and knew nothing other than this resemblance at life the Capital had laid out for them. They deserved so much better.

"Look, guys, I know I say this every year, but listen up," Jack addressed them after a moment, unable to suppress the smallest grin at the way each head swiveled towards the sound of his voice almost in unison, in one cohesive movement. They were a group, a unit, a gathering of street urchins that everyone refused to give a chance. But together, they could slay any giant. All but one.

"I don't know what names they're gonna pull today. It could be me, and...yeah, maybe it could be one 'a you'se. But these are the cards that are laid out for us, and we gotta play with the hand we're dealt. So we're gonna take this head on, together. All for one, gang."

The speech was sloppy, even Jack couldn't deny it. But it seemed to rally the boys, at least, to the point where Jack could nearly feel the mood lift slightly off the floor. They were still terrified, just as Jack was himself, but there was solace in the reminder that they weren't in it alone.

The brotherhood of the newsies meant that no man had to rely on just himself, a principle that applied to the reaping better than anything.

"'Course, Jack. All for one," a voice piped up softly from his left, and Jack turned to see Crutchie smiling faintly at him from his bunk bed, rising to his feet like a soldier preparing for battle. He returned the grin as best as he could as he noticed the fear still shining in his little brother's eyes, and his mind returned momentarily to the rooftop, to the vow he'd committed himself to. It was time to test his own strength-there no way he was letting Crutchie down now.


The rest of the boys followed Crutchie's lead as the clock tower struck two, signaling the arrival of the reaping at last. They headed almost single-filed out the doors and down the roughly paved roads, taking in the familiar streets as though they had never seen anything more enthralling in their lives.

Jack lead the pack, marching almost to an imaginary beat, one that almost bordered on revolutionary. Almost, but how he wished.

The square was packed with residents of the district of Manhattan, their bodies hunched with the weight of the day or rigid with anticipation. The children of the city had already begun to split off into their respective age groups, a code that was not strictly written but more of a social custom that had developed over the years.

Of course, the newsies had always stayed tightly within their own ranks, feeding off the strength of each other more than anyone else. They stood towards the back of the crowd, just as always, waiting as the last of the stragglers trickled in and the ceremony could officially begin.

A larger, dark-skinned woman mounted the stage about a quarter after two, the representative sent by the Capital to "oversee the festivities," as the ruling city described it. Even her name, Medda Larkin, gave her away as a woman of wealthy upbringing, someone who could never begin to comprehend a life spent in the districts. And yet, Jack had always-well, perhaps liked was too strong a word.

He'd often felt a signficant amount of respect for her, and the way that she conducted the reapings themseleves. She never treated them as though they were some kind of sick spectacle or celebration, contrary to her job description. No, Medda Larkin upheld her sense of professionalism and solemn duty, and Jack couldn't help but admire her for that.

"Here begins the reaping of this year's Hunger Games," She opened the ceremony as the dull mumbles of the districts settled down, unknownly holding herself to Jack's own standards of melancholy. "A time of repentence and remembering..."

She then proceeded to begin the usual ramblings that were required by the Captial, including the history of their country of Panem as well the origins of the Games themselves. Jack tuned out the words almost as soon as they began, and instead focused on Crutchie beside him.

The boy stood tall with a sort of dignity, as though to show the world that he was not to be overlooked. But Jack found it hard to miss the light tremble that still overtook his form as he stood, and a surge of panic flooded through him for a moment at the thought of Crutchie being the next one taken from him. What would he do without the disabled boy's constant light, what would any of them do without it? It was unthinkable, still impossible.

Four slips. Crutchie had four slips. Jack had forty. What were they always saying about the odds?

"Are you alright, Jack?" A squeeze of his hand brought Jack back to the present as Crutchie looked up at him anxiously, somehow more concerened about Jack's own mental well-being than the immient danger of the reaping. What a kid.

"Yeah, Crutchie, I'm fine," He reassured him, very obviously lying but knowing that to say anything else would be entirely the wrong move. Crutchie eyed Jack warily, not convinced of his claim but still holding onto his hand with a tight grip as Medda Larkin approached the infamous glass bowl.

She had already called the girl's name, Jack noticed. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts to register the newest tribute until he saw her standing on the stage, her chin held high and her hands folded neatly in front of her, with wavy amber hair cascading to her shoulders.

Jack barely recognized her, as her dress and general put-together appearence marked her as a resident of the nicer side of town, one that he made a point not to frequent. But still, he couldn't help but feel pity well up inside for her. She looked around his age, with a life ahead of her. What could she have brought to the world that would be wasted now? What would the end of her story be?

"And now for the boys."

Suddenly, the words Jack had dreaded for a full year had been spoken, and his focus flew from the girl and back to his boys. And, to a lesser extent, himself.

Jack Kelly had never been particularly pious, but it was in that moment that he prayed with everything he was worth. Four slips. The phrase echoed through his mind. Four slips.

Please, not them. Not Race, not Albert, not Specs, not Henry, not Finch, not me, and please, please not-

"Crutchie Morris."


Yeah, this is not getting any happier anytime soon..but I do plan on some kind of Christmas story once I have an idea for it! Don't forget to review! Prompts and suggestions always accepted as well. Thanks for reading!