Hello my lovely readers! I know it's been forever and a day since I updated, but here's a chapter for you all. This one's Letter from the Refuge, and I hope I did that wonderful song justice. Thanks to Ostrich on a Rampage for continual support and encouragement for this fanfic! Plus. her amazing fics inspired me to try and write more. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon-ish, but sadly I can't promise anything. I am crazy busy with piano and choir and school and family stuff. But thank you all for your continual support and patience!

God bless!

~Elizabeth Shoal

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies, but I wish I did! Hopefully I will own a copy of the filmed B-Way show when it comes out! SO EXCITED FOR THAT AGHHH THEY FILM ON THE 11TH!

Some time later, well after the last of the summer light had faded, I heard footsteps coming from the hall. I blinked into focus just as the door swung open, creaking on rusty hinges, and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered to life.

It took a few moments for my burning eyes to adjust, and by then a motley group of boys was filing into the room. I recognized the freckled face of Seas as he made his way over to me, Scruff by his side. Briefly, I hoped he couldn't tell that I'd been crying. My eyes itched and my face felt puffy from all the tears shed.

"Jumpin' jellyfish!" Scruff said as he dropped to his knees beside me. "Did they rough you up even more, Crutchie?" He shook his head, eyes wide in disbelief, and gingerly poked my cheek where Oscar had punched me during the interrogation.

"Well, at least he's got a good shiner to show for it." Sean gave me a comforting smile. "Always better to have something to show of your battles, yeah?"

"Yeah, guess so." I answered, trying to return the smile. But it didn't feel convincing, even to me.

"Hey, at least it matches your other cheek." Sean winked conspiratorially before turning serious. "Scruff, help me get him up. Sorry, Crutchie, this may hurt." With that being said, he put one arm under my shoulders and one under my knees, hefting me up with the help of Scruff's steadying hand.

It was all I could do not to cry out.

"Sorry kid." Sean's tone was apologetic.

Kid, kid… Jack calls me kid.

"S'all right." I said, taking a deep breath.

You're all right, Crutch. Just keep telling yourself that.

"Move for a moment, would ya Tenpin?" Sean said. I couldn't see who he was talking to, but I was distracted from my curiosity from the pain of being placed on one of the button bunks. Someone with winter-blond hair stood over me, arms crossed.

"I ain't sharin' my bed wid no crip, Sean."

Sean scowled at the boy.

"I already made Scruff and Blink move, Tenpin. Surely you can sleep two-to-a-bed with Crutchie here? He's small, and he don't bite."

The boy, Tenpin, shook his head. "Uh-uh. I'll have ta sleep against the wall jus' ta make sure I don't hurt 'im"

Sean's foot began to tap against the floor. "You generally get squished by Scruff anyway!"

"Not all the way 'gainst the wall! Look I ain't sharin' a bunk with no newbie, and 'specially not no crip. I'm not sayin' it again. Besides, newbies always sleep up top."

Sean pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and gave a long-suffering sigh.

A new voice spoke from somewhere above me. "You're a stubborn mule, you know that Tenpin?" I assumed the one speaking was sitting on the top bunk. "I'll sleep down there with you then, if you're gonna be so stubborn. Just put him up here Sean. I'll move. And Buzz'll be nice, right Buzz?"

There was a vague reply from Buzz, and a small figure jumped down from the top bunk. Ice-blue eyes twinkled mischievously at me from under the brim of a grey cap.

"Thanks Winn." Sean said, clapping the boy's shoulder.

"Sure thing." Winn touched the brim of his cap in a mock salute. "I take it this is Crutchie?" The question was directed at me.

"Yeah, that's me." I answered.

"Pleasure ta meetchya! I'm Winn."

"Would you quit yapping and get him off my bed?" Tenpin said, features twisted in great annoyance.

Sean turned on him, pushing his face close to the blond's. "He's staying here until I bandage him up, understand?"

Tenpin shuffled back a few steps. "Y-Yes Sean."

"Good. One more word outta you and you'll sleep on the floor." Obviously Sean, as one of the oldest boys I'd seen so far, had a fairly high position in the hierarchy of the Refuge.

Tenpin opened his mouth, then seemed to decide against it.

Winn grinned, punching Tenpin lightly. "And that is why you don't irritate a red head. 'Specially not an Irish one."

"Winn, just stop." Sean sounded tired.

"All right, all right. Sorry."

Sean nodded once, assured that the whole matter of bedding was settled, and then disappeared from my line of view. He returned with a dotted shirt and a pocket knife.

"So… what's that for?" I asked as he began to cut the shirt into strips.

"To bandage you up. I don't have any water to clean anything with, but covering the bad cuts should at least keep them from getting infected."

Sean continued to cut the shirt. A whispered conversation could be heard in the quiet.

"I'm hungry." Was someone's complaint.

"Yeah, well, we'se all hungry." Was someone else's retort.

"Why didn't we get dinner?"

"Why should I know? I guess Snyder the Spider was too busy with that lousy crip to feed us."

My face flushed. Had Snyder really neglected to feed everyone because of me? My stomach churned with a pang of guilt.

"Sit him up, guys." Sean said, breaking the silence. "I gotta get that top layer off him."

Scruff and Winn lifted me into a sitting position. I groaned and pushed Scruff's hand away.

"I'se okay, I can sit up myself."

"You sure?" Scruff certainly didn't sound too sure.

"Yeah. I got it." I hissed through gritted teeth. I unbuttoned my plain shirt halfway, but allowed the others to help me unbutton it the rest of the way and strip it from my sweaty form. My long-sleeved undershirt was stained with splotches of blood and clung to my frame.

'Alright, lay back down." Sean commanded and, happily, I obliged. He began to bandage my upper, left arm.

Let's see, dat one's from when the Delancey's pushed me over after the brawl.

"So Crutchie," Winn piped up, "Buzz says you were in a brawl." I responded with a meagre nod, wondering why Winn seemed on such friendly terms with the gruff blond. "You're part of the Strike I take it?" Nod. "I think you guys are doin' the right thing. Newsies need rights. I'd join ya if I wasn't here."

"You'se a newsie?"

"Sure thing! Buzz 'n I are from Brooklyn."

My nose wrinkled involuntarily. "Spot Conlon's territory."

If Spot had been at the brawl, we woulda won. But I guess we showed 'em that we got what-

"OW!" I jerked my hand away from Sean's grasp.

"I'm sorry, but I gotta wrap those fingers!" Sean said matter-of-factly. "They're almost definitely broken, the three middle ones." From Morris steppin' on 'em. I let him straighten my fingers out to be wrapped, willing threatening tears to go away. "Keep talking, Crutch-"

"Don't call me Crutch." The force in my tone surprises even me.

Only Jack calls me Crutch. No one else gets ta call me Crutch.

Before I can apologize for snapping, Sean corrects himself. "Sorry, Crutchie. Keep talking, It'll distract ya."

Winn picked a topic, plunging right in. "So Crutchie, how old're ya?" It amazed me, the lengths Winn and Sean and Scruff were going to to help me out.

"Fifteen."

"Younger than some of the other newsies then. 'Lease the Manhattan ones. Aren't most of 'em sixteen or so?"

"I'm the second youngest. Well, third if you count Les. Les is near ten. He helps his brother sell, though. And Jack."

Winn's eyes widened. "Jack Kelly?"

"Yeah, Jack Kelly." A glimmer of pride resounds in my chest at the obvious recognition shown by many of the people crowded at the bedside.

A voice - I recognize it as Buzz's - drifts down from above. "You friends with Kelly?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I am." He's more than just any friend. "He's my best friend." My brother. I look away from Winn's bright gaze. Once more, part of me wished that Jack was there. He always knew how to make me feel better...

Don't think that way! You don't want Jack back in the Refuge.

And I didn't. Perhaps what I was really wishing was that I was where Jack was.

Anywhere is better than 'ere.

"He's probably worried aboutchya." Winn's voice seemed far away.

"Yeah." Is he worried? Probably. He shouldn't worry, I'll be fine. He worries too much, 'bout everybody. "I bet 'e is. He worries a lot. I wish there was someway I could talk to him. Or jus' get him word that I'se okay."

Sean glanced up from bandaging my bum leg. (Cut up by Snyder. By my crutch.) "I got some paper and a pencil. You could write a letter."

Tenpin sat heavily on the bed, jolting my leg painfully. "How's 'e gonna send it, Idiot?"

Sean shot the blond boy a disparaging look. "We'll figure that out later. We'll find a way." He tied off the bandage. "Well, that's that. You're good to go. Can't do nothin' for the bruises, or your ribs. Or all the littler cuts." He blew out a puff of air. "Bit I'll try to get some water tomorrow, so I can clean everything.

"Thanks Sean." I smiled, this one much more genuine than the others. "You didn't have to do any of this."

"I only did what any person with a speck of humanity in them would do, Crutchie. Nothing more." He started to walk away, and I assumed it was to put away his knife and the extra scraps of fabric.

"DoyouthinkIcould'avethatpapernow?"

Sean turned back, "Now?" He tilted his head to the side. "Well, I guess so. We'se gotta get you up top first." Sean set the scraps on another bunk, raising his eyes to the heavens as he did. He mumbled something, but all I could hear was 'Tenpin'.

"It's okay, Sean. I can sleep up dere, I'll be fine."

Sean studied me for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Alright, kid, up you o. At least let me help you up there." I hoisted myself into a sitting position, unable to contain a hiss, and Sean hefted me up once more. But even with his height, he couldn't get me onto the top bunk. A grumbling Buzz was recruited, him grabbing my arms and pulling while Sean pushed my legs up. I flopped on the bed. Whoof.

Sean's brown furrowed again. "You sure you're okay?"

Using the post to get upright, I nodded. "You'se done all ya can Sean. 'Member, I live on the streets. I'll survive."

Will I? The very thought sent a shiver down my spine. Jack had once told me that when he was in the Refuge, a boy had disappeared. One day he was there, the next he was gone. Even more odd was the fact that no one was punished for an escape. No one was accused of helping someone flee the Refuge. Jack always said the boy couldn't have escaped anyway, because he'd been beaten horribly the day before. "No one would say so," Jack had said, "but I'm pretty- pretty sure that boy died. And we all knew it."

"Crutchie. Crutchie? Hey, Crutchie!" I blinked. Sean's wide eyes were boring into mine. I felt dizzy all of a sudden from the weight of Jack's story.

"Hm? Oh, sorry Sean. I was… thinking."

"Yeah," Sean said, his voice soft, "you seem to do a lot of 'thinking.'" He cleared his throat. "Well, here's your paper and stuff." With a wink he handed me a small bundle. "You can write it later and we'll find a way to send it tomorrow."

Don't write it now. Sean's gaze said. You'll be in loads of trouble if Snyder finds out.

I thanked Sean and watched as he went to the bunk closes to the door. The sharp taste of guilt hung in my throat when he sat on the floor and leaned against the post. There were two boys squished together on the top of that bunk. Scruff, Connor and some other downy head were uncomfortably situated on the bottom. I remembered Sean telling Tenpin that he'd made some of the others move to make room for me. Now, clearly, there was no room for him in his own bunk.

All that for me? I ain't worth it.

Sean wasn't the only one on the floor, though. Evidently there weren't enough bunks in the room to begin with, because two or three other boys were curled up in the dirt and rat dung as well.

Footsteps in the hall grabbed my attention. Someone pounded on the door, BANG, BANG, BANG. "LIGHTS OUT!" Anyone who had been sleeping before was startled to perfect alertness. Except for Buzz, who only snored behind me.

Sean cursed, jumped to his feet, and pulled the string to the single lightbulb. The room plunged into darkness. A few boys complained as the footsteps retreated down the hall, but soon the room was silent again, save for a few coughs and snorts. Clutching my bundle for 'later', as Sean has said, I tried to find a comfortable position in the limited space left next to Buzz's sprawled form. My good leg hung out the side of the bunk, and my bum leg hung off the end. In any cases, no position on that narrow sliver of beg was going to make my body hurt any less.

Here's to hoping I don't fall off.

It took about 2.5 minutes for me to give up on any hope of sleep. Physically, I was exhausted. Mentally I was utterly drained. But worry and fear overpowered pain and fatigue. Besides, I had to wait up a little, until I could write a letter to Jack.

So I waited.

The minutes dragged by, interrupted only by the occasional snore and the pitter-patter of rodent feet. There was a squeak from within the wall, so close it made me jump. Wonder how many rats are in this place. For the next few minutes, all I could imagine was rats thronging over me while I slept, their feces clinging to my clothing and their teeth nibbling at my face.

Don't be stupid, Crutchie. You're on the top bunk. They can't get up here, right?

I tried to decide what I should right to Jack, but nothing came to mind. I'd never written a letter before in my whole life.

The door creaked, and my breath hitched. Light streamed in, a long, threatening shadow projected onto the floor. But the shadow and the light were gone as quickly as they came, the door closing with hardly a sound. Guess that's why Sean told me to wait 'til later.

Jack had told me once that there were guards at the Refuge, who kept watch in the halls to make sure no one escaped. "Some pay more attention than others," he'd said. "And some fall asleep in two minutes."

What kind of guard was out there tonight? Would he fall asleep soon? Would he stay up all night?

If 'e catches me, I'll get in trouble, no doubt about it. I heard footsteps again, creaking footfalls that made me want to hold my breath. No wonder it's so hard to escape. Guards, creaky floors. I wonder where dat fire escape is, the one Jack used to escape. Near a window I guess. Definitely not near any of da bedrooms. The only othuh way to get out would be the front door. Or a window. But it ain't as if anyone's gonna jump two or three stories. That's a death wish… OH! What if I tied a sheet to somethin'? Maybe the bed! Then I could toss the end out da window… I'd need more than one sheet. A few tied togethuh. An' I'd hafta be real quiet… Did the window creak when Morris opened it earlier? I guess it'd be hard to tell, seein' how hard he shoved it open. It made a bangin' noise, but did it cerak? I'll hafta be sure my sheet-rope thingy is sturdy. Where'll I get the sheets? They'se all bein' used now.

I wondered when "I'd" became "I'll."

I'll probably hafta wait.

Waiting was the last thing I wanted to do.

I wanna be outta here as soon as possible.

A few more minutes passed, as my mind tried to work out more details of my escape plan.

Been awhile since I heard any footsteps.

I sat up, clutching the bundle Sean had given to me. In the dim, watery light the moon cast on the room, I untied the bundle. There was a crumpled piece of paper, a dull pencil a half-used candle and a single match. Setting the candle on one post of the bunk, I struck the match against the wall, and it burst to life with a crackle. My hand rushed to light the candle, for fear of the match going out. Soon a warm yellow light shone.

A light in the darkness.

Paper raced against the post closest to me, I grabbed the pencil and took a deep breath.

…

…

…

What in the world am I gonna say?

I licked my dry lips and tapped my fingers on the paper.

Well, first things first.

"Dear Jack," I whispered as I wrote.

'Kay, now say where the letter's from.

"Greetings from the Refuge…" I trailed off, scrunching up my face in concentration, and the beginnings of a letter formed in my mind.

"How are you?" I'd seen letters before. This seemed to me a common courtesy. "I'm okay."

Okay wasn't a word I'd generally use to describe how I was feeling, but I didn't want Jack to worry.

Besides, I am okay. I'm gonna be jus' fine. An' Jack's got enough to worry about, after the brawl.

The brawl. Anxiety crawled through my very being, threatening to choke me. I was still worried about Jack and the other boys. I hoped the "How are you" captured that worry.

Oh Jack, you gotta find some way to respond. You gotta tell me how everybody's doin'. They all got soaked somethin' awful… But they also soaked them strikebreakers pretty bad too. Unlike me. I couldn't even block a single punch from Oscar, let alone actually make a mark on anyone.

"Guess I wasn't much help yesterday." I almost wrote "earlier," but it was probably near midnight, and Jack would be receiving the letter the day after the brawl.

What now? Ugh, I ain't got a clue what I'm doing. Should I say something else 'bout the brawl? This time my thoughts drifted towards how I'd run with the crowd. I had felt like a coward, running from the ulls. Everyone else had been doing in, and we'd been outnumbered, but I still felt like a coward.

I ran. I ran like a baby.

How much good had that running even done me? If it could even be called running. I'd gotten caught by the Delanceys. My eye throbbed as if to prove a point.

I got caught and then… and then…

Snyder, standing over me, swing the crutch at me with all his strength, that evil glint in his eyes - NO. I thrust the thought away, as far as I could shove it. I stared at the letter, and it hit me that I hadn't mentioned who was writing yet.

"Oh yeah, Jack?" I wrote, singing the words softly to myself. "This is Crutchie by the way."

My stomach rumbled. I became all too aware of how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten since… that morning? The night before, even? I tried to push my hunger away as well, and looked around the room, trying to think of what to write next. The windows, their tattered curtains limp from humidity, caught my attention.

Morris, holding me out over the terrifying drop…

"These here guards, they is rude! They say 'Jump! Boy, you jump or you're screwed!" Grrrr. I glanced down at my stomach with a sigh. "But the food ain't so bad, least so far… 'cuz, so far, they ain't rung us no food." A grin touched my lips at my own joke. Jack woulda liked that one. Sarcasm's Jack's strong suit.

Sometimes his sarcasm was funny. Other times he'd throw sarcastic comments back at everything I said until I was ready to throw him of the rooftop.

"I miss the rooftop." I said, and it was true. Oh, so very, very true.

"Sleepin' right out in the open, if your pent'ouse in the sky!" I could almost see the city lights winking cheerfully at me, and the quiet hubbub of sounds echoing off the buildings. And the breeze. What I wouldn't give for that breeze now.

"There's a cool breeze blowin', even in July."

I was leaning out over the railing, a cool breeze ruffling my hair. In the distance, out on the ocean, the last orange light of the sun was fading. A glance over my shoulder revealed the moon, just beginning its ascent, and the stars, just twinkling on. I always liked to imagine that they were saying hello to me when they twinkled like that, and-

A loud snore interrupted my day-dream.

I opened my eyes. Here I was, in the Refuge, in the heat, with the sweaty boys - no, not just boys, prisoners - and the dirty rats. I was met, once more, with the sight of the torn curtains and the hazy window.

"Anyway," I cleared my throat, which was dry as sand, "so, guess what? There's this secret escape plan I got!" The words seemed to come easier now. "Tie a sheet to the bed, toss the end out the window, climb down and take off like a shot!" I fidgeted in excitement, and my leg spasmed with the unexpected movement. Hot tongues of fire seemed to envelop the dead limb, staring down at my toes and spreading up and up. At my thigh it transitioned to an ache that continued to my chest, where it became a dull throbbing. In my head it was a head-splitting pounding. It was all I could do not to scream.

"Maybe though," I wheezed through a tight chest and gritted teeth, "not tonight."

Who'm I kiddin'. I'd never make it out the window with this bum leg! The pressure of the situation was too much. It was wearing away at me. Jack always told me that I was so optimistic, but I was finding it hard to be optimistic when my body felt ready to implode.

"I ain't slept, and my leg still ain't right."

When the Strike ends, Crutchie, when they defeat Pulitzer. Then you'll get out, somehow.

"Hey, but Pulitzer? He'd goin' down."

If there was one thing I was confident of, it was that Jack and the boys were gonna win that strike.

"And Jack?" My hand froze. How could I explain the billion and ten emotions welled up inside of me? No words could express my desire to be free from the Refuge and the gripping fear that came with being trapped there. I wanted to be far, far away from that horrific pace, that left children starving, scarred, and lost. In fact, I was almost ready to leave the city.

"I was thinkin' we might just go…" I remembered the conversation Jack and I had had about Santa Fe, just a few days ago. Jack had told me his dream about Santa Fe a million times before, but that had been the first time I'd been graced with such vivid details. "Like you was sayin'..."

For the first time, I'd been able to really picture Santa Fe. As Jack had explained his dream, the mental picture had crept into view, becoming more and more… real. It had seemed to come alive before my very eyes. And all of a sudden, I'd kinda understood why Jack wanted to go there so bad, why it was such an amazing place.

"Where it's clean and green and pretty, with no buildin's in da way!"

It sure sounds different from good ol' NYC.

I tried to raise the picture back to my mind again and, to my surprise, it was almost as alive as the last time. I grinned, a real, genuine grin. If it was as wonderful as it sounded, I really wanted to go there, so long as Jack came too. A part of me hoped he was right, that the clean air would make my leg better.

"And you're ridin' palominos every day!"

I was perched atop a sandy-white horse. It's mane whipped in the wind as it galloped across a big, green field. There were clay houses in the distance. The sun shone down on me. I felt a joyous warmth, spreading from the inside out. I was racing a train, my fists in the air, crutch… gone! Gone with the wind!

"When that train makes!-"

"SHHHHHHHHHH!"

A whack to my gashed arm broke me from my reverie. Buzz rolled over, my arm began to ache, and tears threatened to flood the water gates once more. Obviously they didn't know when they weren't wanted. I shook my head, crumpling the paper slightly in one hand.

"Darn this place."

A few hot tears escaped, rolling down, dripping from my nose onto the letter. A deep, shuddering breath helped me to clear my brain a little. I wiped my nose, and smoothed out the paper.

"I'll be fine," I wrote. I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine. I ain't a baby. I ain't gonna cry no more. I'll be fine. "Good as new. But there's one thing I needjya ta do. On the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each othuh." My heart actually throbbed at the thought of my family.

If you can hear me, God, please, please, please don't let any of the boys end up here.

"So tell all the fellas, for me, to protect one anothuh!" The tears flowed more freely now. Never before had I missed the Lodging House and the rowdy newsies so bad.

"The end."

Is that how ya end a letter?

"Your friend."

Somehow, as I read the words aloud, they didn't seem right. They felt… stale.

They ain't strong enough.

"Your best friend." I wrote.

Yeah… yeah, that's good.

I re-read this statement, just to make sure and, again, it felt wrong. They were good, but they didn't quite fit the picture.

Family… He said we's a family. And we are a family.

I scratched out the two previous endings and, ever so slowly, wrote out another one. Even as I wrote the letters, I knew this one was right. And I believed what it said, with all my heart.

"Your brother."

Deep breath.

"Crutchie."

Reviews are very welcome! Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is a good thing! Is Crutchie in character? Am I portraying him correctly? Do you like the OCs? If you have anything specific you want to see in this fanfic, just let me know and I'll consider it! Thanks guys, God bless!