So I recognize that I sorta changed the ending of the musical, but this is fanfiction, so you can't really expect too much from me, 'kay? Anyway, this is the conclusion of this story, but, trust me, there are plenty more that I'm planning. I shall not disappear off the face of the planet, honest promise. Enjoy!
The morning of the strike dawned bright and clear. It was the start of something new, the beginning of a new era that would ensure fair treatment of the newsies. Jack glanced among the faces of all the newsboys, noting the determination that set the features of each boy. Even Les looked serious, holding the banner he had created with the utmost care.
All eyes were on Jack and he realized they were expecting a speech of some sort. "I don't have to tell you what we're up against," Jack began, recalling their first attempt at the strike and how quickly they had been pushed backwards. How Crutchie had been captured. "And I shouldn't need to tell you what we're fighting for. We're fighting for our rights, for the rights of everyone who is being smothered by the big names and corporations." Jack took a steadying breath, before adding, "And we're fighting for Crutchie.
"He would've wanted to be out here with us, fighting against Pulitzer, against the world. Really, Crutchie was one of the strongest supporters of the strike, he may have even wanted it more than Davey and I." Jack laughed bitterly. "Crutchie just wanted what was best for us all. He dreamed of a world where we'd be treated fairly and he gave his life for that dream. If we respect Crutchie at all, we'll win this strike. For him. For Crutchie."
"For Crutchie!" the boys shouted as one voice, fists raised into the air.
"I bet," Les piped up, "Crutchie even joins us in the strike."
Jack let a grin quirk at his lips. "He wouldn't miss it for the world," he reassured Les. Addressing the group of boys, Jack softly began to sing, "There's change coming once and for all. You makes the front page and then you is major news."
Davey joined in, speaking for the other boys. "Tomorrow they'll see what we are."
Katherine spoke up, putting her arm around Jack. "And as sure as a star, we ain't come this far to lose."
Which was an interesting way to word it, Jack mused. There had been one night, shortly after Jack had allowed Crutchie up to his rooftop, when Jack had almost fallen asleep, his head pillowed upon his arm, but had jerked back to consciousness as Crutchie spoke up. "Do ya ever wish you was a star, Jack?"
"Like in the sky?" Jack had asked sleepily, blinking blearily at the younger boy.
"Yeah, just floating up there without a care in the world."
Jack had shook his head. "Nah, Crutchie. I ain't ever even thought about bein' a star."
"I think it would be nice. They's the only constant things in this world. Everything can change but them stars will still be right there, lighting up the darkest part of the sky," Crutchie had sighed, before continuing. "Even when it got the worst, back at home—" Jack had stiffened at these words. Crutchie hadn't ever really told him about what had led the younger boy to find refuge on the streets. He had remained silent as Crutchie kept speaking, probably not even noticing the awkward way Jack avoided eye contact. "—there were always stars, every night. I could look outta my window and know I weren't ever alone, so long as I had a star or two watching over me." Crutchie had shrugged before glancing at Jack. "It's stupid, really."
"No, it's—it's nice," Jack had told Crutchie, gazing at the stars with newfound interest. They were always there and would remain up in the sky for the rest of the two boys' lives, unchanging and constant.
Now, Jack glanced up at the sky, wishing he could catch a glimpse of the stars that Crutchie had loved so much. Even though his best friend was gone forever, the stars would remain. And maybe Crutchie had gotten his wish and he was now one of them stars blinking up in the night sky.
"Here they come!" Race shouted, pulling Jack out of his thoughts.
The newsies gathered together, continuing the song Jack had started, "This is the story we needed to write as we're kept out of sight, but no more!" No longer would their misfortunes be kept silent, no longer would Pulitzer be able to get away with raising the price of the newspaper without any form of recompense. "In a few hours, by dawn's early light, we'll be ready to fight us a war. This time we're in it to stay, talk about seizing the day—"
Jack quickly spoke up, "Write it in ink or in blood, it's the same either way." Snyder had killed one of their own and Jack knew that he wouldn't hesitate to dish out the same punishment. Crutchie's death had been so pointless, really. If Pulitzer had simply allowed the boys their rights, they wouldn't have needed to strike. If they hadn't decided upon that stupid strike, Crutchie would still be right there, on Jack's side. Nothing would ever be the same again and it was all because of Pulitzer and Snyder. They wouldn't get away with that, not if Jack had a say. "They're gonna damn well pay!" Jack growled. Crutchie would not go unavenged.
"See old man Pulitzer, snug in his bed. He don't care if we're dead or alive," a couple of the boys lamented. It was true. He hadn't done anything for the newsboys after Crutchie was murdered, probably didn't even know the kid's name. "Three satin pillows are under his head while we's begging for bread to survive. Joe, you can stop counting sheep; we're gonna sing ya to sleep," the boys threatened, growing braver as they all banded together. How could they possibly lose? "You've got your thugs with their sticks and their slugs, but we got a promise to keep!"
As long as they were fighting for Crutchie, there was no way anyone would give up. Jack scanned the faces of the boys, noting the fierce determination on each and every one. Crutchie'd be proud that they were all fighting for him. "Once and for all," Jack sang out in the silence, "if they don't mind their manners, we'll bleed them!"
"Bleed them!" the boys repeated, nodding. It was only fair, after all.
Race thrust his fist into the air, shouting, "Once and for all, we won't carry no banners that don't spell freedom!"
At this, Les waved his banner in the air and the action caused Jack's heart to lurch uncomfortably. That should be Crutchie with the banner. The kid had wanted to show he was part of the strike somehow and Jack had jokingly suggested he make a sign signifying his membership in the strike. Crutchie had taken the suggestion to heart and come back with a banner which he had pinned to his crutch. Jack had no idea what the Delancey brothers and Snyder had done to the kid's banner and suddenly wished he had it to remember his best friend, his brother, by.
"Finally we'se raisin' the stakes. This time whatever it takes. This time the union awakes, once and for all!" the boys sang. "This is for kids shining shoes on the street with no shoes on their feet every day. This is for guys sweating blood in the shops while their bosses and cops look away." This is for Crutchie: it remained unspoken, but mutually understood among all the newsies.
"I'm seeing kids standing tall, glaring and raring to brawl. Armies of guys who are sick of the lies, getting ready to rise to the call! Once and for all, there'll be blood on the wall if they doubt us." Jack fell silent as the other boys sang. Unbidden, his mind leaped to the room in the Refuge where he had last seen Crutchie. He hated to wonder it, but morbid curiosity battered his brain with questions of whether Crutchie's blood was on that wall, on that floor. Whether, if he ever returned, he'd see the last remnants of his best friend. Singing loudly to push that awful thought away, Jack continued, "They think they're running this town, but this town will shut down without us. Ten thousand kids in the square, ten thousand fists in the air!" But, minus one because Crutchie wasn't—"Joe, you is gonna play fair, once and for all!"
The boys nodded to each other, taking up the call, "Once and for all!" It was repeated over and over again, a call to arms for the newsies.
"There's change coming, once and for all! You're getting too old, too weak to keep holding on. A new world is gunning for you, and Joe, we is too, 'til once and for all, you're gone!" The boys all cried in one voice.
Davey sang out, "Once and for all," leading the rest of the newsies to repeat the cry.
"Once and for all!" Jack added angrily, knowing that now, all didn't mean everyone it had meant at the start of the strike. They were still fighting for Crutchie, of course, but it wasn't the same. Would never be the same. With one last shout of grief, anger, and defiance, Jack led the boys into the final strike.
It was over. They had finally won. Jack looked around at the faces of his fellow newsies, taking in the grins and the congratulations that were being swapped. He almost smiled. But, the cost of the strike was just too great. Jack was glad that they had won, for the boys' sake. For him, however, it wasn't worth it. The next opportunity he had, Jack was hitting the road. And he was never coming back to this horrid city ever again.
"What're your plans now?" Davey asked. He must've noticed the way Jack wasn't partaking in any of the joyous shouts and celebrations. His face was flushed and he was grinning, but Jack just couldn't return the smile.
"Don't really know. I'm leaving, though. Next train outta here, I'll be on it," Jack muttered, gazing up at the blue sky. At least, when he got to wherever he was going and it was night, he'd still be able to see the stars.
"You're just going to leave? After we won and everything?" Davey asked, his question drawing the attention of some of the closer newsies.
Jack shrugged. "There ain't much here that's going to be keeping me." Jack lowered his voice. "I've lost everything, Davey."
"You won the strike!" Les pointed out, excitedly.
"It ain't the same," Jack muttered. When Jack had first decided to strike against the World, he had imagined what their win would be like. The daydreams varied: Pulitzer thrown into jail, the newsies swarming the World and trashing the entire newspaper office, even as unbelievable as Jack being appointed the new president of the newspaper. But all of these imaginations had one thing in common: Crutchie was always there, standing right beside Jack, grinning and taking in the triumph.
Race spoke up, "It's your decision, Jack. If you wanna go, you're gonna. Like I said the other night, y'know?"
"Thanks, Race. And I will miss all of you. It was quite the adventure."
Katherine shoved her way to Jack's side, "If you're leaving, I'm coming too."
"No, Katherine, you ain't gotta—"
"Jack!" There was a small shout from the outskirts of the crowd. Jack's shoulders immediately stiffened because he knew that voice. He recognized that voice. But, that was completely, utterly, totally, irrevocably impossible. Crutchie was dead. He had been murdered by Snyder, by the Delancey brothers. He couldn't be—"Jack!" the cry was repeated again, and Jack, unwilling to believe what he was hearing, not willing to have that hope torn away again, turned toward where the voice was coming. Jack watched as the crowd parted, allowing the speaker to make their way to Jack. His stomach began to flip nervously and his mouth grew drier by the second. If by some unbelievable miracle Crutchie wasn't—If he was actually still alive—
The crowd finished stepping aside and Jack was finally able to see who had been calling his name. "C-Crutchie?" Jack stuttered, staring in disbelief at what was surely an apparition, a horribly vicious trick of the light.
"Yeah, who was ya expecting? George Washington?" Crutchie had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Jack leaped toward where the younger boy was standing and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"I thought you was dead," Jack whispered, slightly pulling out of the hug, but not completely letting go. If he let go, Jack was irrationally afraid that the boy would disappear, return to being dead. He couldn't believe that Crutchie was actually here, that the boy was still breathing.
Crutchie shrugged, hugging Jack back. "Snyder lied to all of you. Wanted you to think I was dead so that you'd quit the strike."
Race snorted from behind Crutchie. "It almost worked."
"I woulda come back," Jack protested.
"Maybe…" Race muttered doubtfully.
Davey came up and patted Crutchie on the back. "It's great to have you back and, uh, not dead."
"Thanks," Crutchie said, not really knowing how else to respond to that.
Jack finally released his best friend, stepping back to observe the boy. "They didn't hurt you anymore, did they?"
"Not since you came to the Refuge. Just sorta locked me up away from everyone."
"What's this?" Jack gestured to the cane Crutchie was leaning on.
Crutchie shrugged once more. "They took my crutch. This used to be Snyder's, I think."
Mush pushed forward, glancing at the cane. "You got the Spider's cane?"
"Well, yeah, I don't have my crutch no more. I need a new one."
"It's back at the Lodging House. The Delancey brothers gave it to me to prove you was dead," Jack explained.
Crutchie grinned. "Good, cuz I didn't want to buy a new crutch."
"You didn't even buy your old one. That was me," Jack pointed out, simply glad to have Crutchie back. He hadn't realized how much he missed the friendly banter between him and Crutchie.
"Oh, yeah. So it was," Crutchie admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Crutchie glanced around the different boys, taking in the flushed faces and the wide grins. "I'm sorry I missed most of the strike," he muttered.
"You were the strike!" Les shouted proudly.
Crutchie grinned down at Les. "Whaddya mean by that?"
"Everyone was fighting for you. Or, really, in memory of you, since we all thought you were dead," Les explained. "But you aren't dead, so it's all good."
"So, what now?" Crutchie asked, turning to Jack. "You headin' out to Santa Fe, the grand city of clay?"
Jack glanced around at all the other newsies, before smiling. "No. I think everything I need is right here."
"There ain't no palominos," Crutchie pointed out.
"I don't need palominos."
"Good," Crutchie said, nodding to himself. "I don't know how to ride a horse."
Jack grinned. "Don't I know it. You can barely work that crutch of yours."
Crutchie half-heartedly swung his fist at Jack, simply glad that he could be back, surrounded by his friends. The motion almost caused Crutchie to lose his balance and he toppled sideways. Jack caught him, laughing. "I don't know why I stick around with you fellows," Crutchie mused, pretending to be hurt by Jack's laughter.
"You'se gotta stick with us. We'se your family," Jack said, patting Crutchie's back, before leading the newsies off to Jacobi's for celebratory cups of water.
A final thank you to all who have reviewed this story and supported me in all aspects of the writing process! Baby ostriches to you all! And to those of you who say I only write sad fics, I'd like to point out that this is a happy ending, sooooo... But, yeah, do expect more sadness and feelz in the next couple stories. I'm in one of those moods...
