Another sad one, sorry guys. :) This chapter comes after Chapter 14 of Aftermath (and is for those of you who were still wondering where exactly Crutchie went . . .)

Standard disclaimers apply.

Jack corners Crutchie as soon as he gets home. Sure, he's stressed out about Snyder. And of course, everything to do with Katherine has him scared as hell, because this is one part of his life he does not want to mess up. But nothing matters to him like Crutchie does, and he's not going anywhere until he figures out what he was up to.

"Okay, kid," he says once he's in position to block the escape route to the door. "I covered for ya earlier. Time to come clean. Where were you?"

Crutchie rolls his eyes and tries to duck around Jack, who throws out an arm and forces him back onto a faded couch. "I told you, Jack. It ain't a big deal."

"Yeah, well, it's a big deal to me. I just wanna know. Is that so bad?"

"It ain't bad, Jack." Crutchie glances at him sideways, then looks away, sighing. "I just don't wanna upset ya. An' I know it will, if I tell ya."

Jack lowers himself onto the couch beside the younger boy, ruffling his hair reassuringly. "I won't get mad. I promise."

Crutchie is silent, looking anywhere but Jack. The tension in the room must be nearly thick enough to see, because when Specs and Romeo poke their heads into the room during the long pause in the conversation, they back out almost immediately. Crutchie watches them go wistfully – Jack's sure he'd rather be escaping with them than sitting here – then finally speaks.

"I didn't say you'll get mad. I said it'll upset you. Even if you don't blame me, you won't like it."

"But you said it ain't bad."

"It isn't. I just–"

"Then tell me!" Jack's voice is louder now, tinged with exasperation. "Damn it, kid!" Crutchie opens and closes his mouth silently several times, obviously unsure of what to do, then screws up his face and comes clean in one quickly babbled confession.

"I went to the prison to see Snyder, okay?"

His eyes widen, probably a mirror image of Jack's own, and he rubs his neck uncomfortably.

"You what?" Jack's voice is low and cold.

"You heard me."

He did. And Crutchie was right. He doesn't like it one bit.

The kid looks nervous, but confused, too, like he's not sure why he's scared. And to be fair, Jack doesn't know why he's suddenly so angry, clenching his teeth to avoid shouting and interlocking his fingers so he can't see his hands shaking. With Snyder in that prison, it doesn't matter if they're in the hallway right outside the barred doors or halfway across the world – they're equally as safe. Or in equally as much danger, if Snyder really is sending thugs after kids who were involved with the strike.

But Jack didn't want any of his boys near that man ever again.

"How the hell did you get even get there? It's halfway across town."

"I asked one of your friends for a lift." Crutchie shrugs. "Governor Roosevelt. He picked me up in his carriage just a little after you left."

"And if I wouldn't have left? If I would have been watching?" A sudden, immense wave of guilt threatens to overwhelm him, that he might have been able to keep Crutchie away from that kind of experience this time.

"I'd have gone anyway, Jack." Crutchie's voice is quiet but firm. "I had to see it. And ya know, it might do you good to see it, too."

With that, he pulls out a crumpled, yellowing piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out before handing it to Jack. It's a crude drawing, with dark, rough lines across the expanse of the paper and a small, broken-looking stick figure staring glumly from inside the bars. But though Jack has never been in this prison, he can still feel the chill, hear the moans and the yells. He doesn't like the drawing much, though he would never tell Crutchie that. He can tell the boy is proud of his representation of his previous night's adventure.

"See? That's how it looks in that prison. He's trapped all right."

"And what, exactly, did you do there?" Jack's tone hasn't warmed up any, even after looking at the sketch. He forces it back at the younger boy, who takes it, face falling. "Besides sit casually by the guy we have nightmares about and draw a pretty picture."

Crutchie shakes his head emphatically. "I didn't just sit there by him, an' I didn't talk to him at all. I don't know if he would've recognized me if he saw me. I just wanted to make sure he was gone, so's we could sleep easier. Ya know? I thought if you heard how he was locked up, if you saw it–" he waves the picture toward Jack again "–then it might not be as bad."

Jack can't stop his voice from cracking. He reaches for the picture again, gripping it with newfound understanding. "You did this for me?"

"For both of us, Jackie. He ain't so scary in there. We're okay now."

Jack studies the picture, swallowing thickly at the new emotions forcing their way up his throat. He worried Crutchie enough that the kid hobbled across the city in the middle of the night to reassure him. Crutchie went to another prison, to face Snyder, for him. It's too much to think about. This is why he hadn't wanted to sleep where the boys could hear him.

Oblivious to his guilt, Crutchie nudges his shoulder and smiles shyly. "You was really worried about me?"

Jack shrugs, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't get myself all beat up just to see if the Delancies still had their brass knuckles. We were tryin' to find you."

"You didn't have to start a fight over me," Crutchie says, though he sounds touched. "I'm not that much younger than you. Sure am older than you were when you started lookin' out for us. Ya don't have to worry so much." He smiles brightly, proudly. "We'll be all right."

Jack shakes his head. "I've got to worry, Crutch. What else am I good for? I'm nothing – nothing – if I ain't watching out for you boys."

"We appreciate it, Jackie. We really do." Crutchie sighs, frowning at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't tell ya where I was going."

"That's okay, kid." Jack pulls him into a one-armed hug, then pushes him gently up off the couch. "Just, no more nighttime adventures for awhile, okay?"

Crutchie smiles again, readjusting his crutch under his arm. "Okay."

Jack forces a small grin at him as he turns to leave, but the drawing feels unnaturally heavy in his hand, and the sound of Crutchie recounting their pitiful blessings still rings in his ears. He wishes things were different. He wishes his boys could be in school, worrying about games rather than their next beating or their next meal. But he smiles, for Crutchie's sake.

Not until the younger boy slowly limps from the room does Jack allow the tears gathering in his eyes to fall.

Reviews are confidence boosters.

Much love,
KnightNight7203