Author's Note: Hi everyone - this is going to be a bit of a long author's note, but as it has been literally a year since I last posted, I have a lot I want to say.

Even though we face a lot of ridicule for reading and writing it, I believe fan fiction is important. It lets us be a part of the stories we love, get to know the characters we love. For me, it gives me comfort from the places from which I'd like it most. I wrote this story because I often feel like a forgotten hero, and I have faced a lot of invalidation and doubt from the people around me. It always bothered me the way people compare their struggles, as if some are worthy of more sympathy or make you deserving of less help. So much of Newsies fan fiction is about the pain of Crutchie, or Jack, or Race or Romeo or any of the newsies, but very few stories are about what Davey has to face. So that's what I was trying to write about here. I wanted to give Davey a chance to be seen and recognized for his strength, to be congratulated and rewarded for all he has overcome. And in doing so, in writing about Davey, I wanted to shine on a light on everyone who has ever felt like a forgotten hero.

Thank you so incredibly much to everyone who has supported me and this story. The follows and favorites, and especially the reviews, mean so much to me. It's crazy to think that this story has been a part of anyone's life even in a tiny, tiny way. So if you've ever felt forgotten or alone, this is for you, because I promise, you are worthy of being remembered and validated for everything you are.

Thank you for reading, and keep carrying the banner. ;)

-HPNewsie

"Hey! Listen up!" Jack hollered at the top of his lungs, trying to wrangle his newsies into silence for just a second. Les had taken up his place right by Jack's side, which seemed to be where he always was these days, since Davey had gone off the rails. Poor kid hadn't known what to do without his brother worrying over him all the time.

"Whaddya want, captain?" Race yelled up at Jack. "We're tryin' ta play a game of cards here, and you ain't helping."

Jack scoffed. "Don't care about your cards, Race. This is important. Get the fellas to listen, will ya?" Race rolled his eyes, but motioned for the rest of the newsies to quiet down.

"Hey everyone, King Jackie's got a procklemation!" Jack was vaguely certain that Race had messed up that last word, but without Davey here to correct him, Jack had no idea what the right one would be. It only reminded Jack how much he needed his second in command.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Jack waved his arms impatiently over the mocking shouts of adoration. Les shuffled his feet nervously next to him, and Jack rested a hand on the kid's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"So I talked to Dave," Jack began. Les nudged him. "Sorry, we talked to Dave."

"You figure out why he's been acting so funny?" Crutchie asked. Jack couldn't help but smile- Crutchie had been so worried about Davey, and although Jack wouldn't admit it under threat of death, he always felt a little soft inside when he saw his boys taking care of each other. It was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"Yeah, Crutch, we did," Jack said with a smile. As much as his heart ached for all the pain Davey had revealed, he also couldn't help but be impressed by how much fiery anger had been in his friend's words. Jack wouldn't have thought he had it in him.

Speaking of things Jack didn't know about Davey—clearly, there were a lot. And the guy had gone through a lot more than Jack had ever given him credit for, which Jack was beginning to realize. A significant portion of the newsies' banter was centered around solidarity, brotherhood, exclusivity—the newsies were not entirely trusting of strangers, to say the least. Most of them had lived together for years, had grown up together. Jack knew they were bitter and jealous of any semblance of a "good" life; Davey was the closest thing to a reminder—the ever present, living, talking, somewhat pompous (however brilliant), reminder—that such a life did exist.

And now that he thought about it, Jack could see how that might have affected Davey. The guy had sacrificed everything to help lead the strike, had risked his own safety and the well being of his family, to be part of the newsies. He had always been willing to do anything for the boys—he'd taught about half of them how to write their names, put up with their constant teasing, covered the costs of their lodging when they couldn't quite make ends meet. Davey had done everything he could. And Jack had never really thought about it from Davey's point of view before. He was the sole provider for his family, responsible for taking care of them all, constantly keeping an eye on Les—the poor guy never got a break.

Jack looked down at all the guys surrounding him: Race rolling his eyes at one of Romeo's dumb comments, no doubt, Specs quietly paying attention, as was his way, Crutchie shushing the younger ones. And Les, standing beside Jack, leaning against his arm. And for all the times Davey had taken care of them, Jack realized—all the times Jack had seen him hold Les when he hurt himself, or talk Specs down from an outburst, stay up all night with any one of the boys when they couldn't sleep—no one had ever taken care of Davey. And he sure as hell deserved that. Davey deserved to get it all back. These guys were his brothers, every one of 'em. And Jack was gonna make damn sure that Davey knew it, knew how much a part of this screwed up family of orphans and runaways and dirty, raggedy, beat up kids Davey was. How respected and honored he was. How everything that Davey had gone through was just as real as what the newsies had, even if it took them a while to realize it. How any of the newsies—even Race, with his impossibly thick skull—would fight City Hall for him.

So Jack cleared his throat, gripped Les's shoulder tighter. Winked down at Crutchie and nodded to himself. This was for Davey.

Les bounced up and down as he stood on Katherine's doorstep next to Jack. Things had turned around quickly. Davey had spent the past few days speaking to the newsies only when necessary, and always with a bitterness that lodged itself in Les's heart when he heard it. Les had lost his brother, and it had been the worst few days of his life.

But then Jack had swooped in and saved the day as usual, with a brilliant plan that would fix everything. And Les got to be his right hand man, got to be second in command (well, that's what Jack told him, anyway) while they put that plan into action. Les couldn't wait for everything to go back to normal.

The door to Katherine's apartment swung open, and Katherine appeared, looking surprised to see them. Les was eager to get a look inside Katherine's home, so he peeked his head inside as he heard Jack pull her into his arms and kiss her. Les had long ago gotten over the shock of seeing Jack kiss a girl, so he was far more interested in seeing what the apartment looked like. And he was severely disappointed: Les knew that Katherine was Pulitzer's daughter, and Pulitzer was one of the richest men in New York, so how come her apartment wasn't even that much nicer than Les's own?

"Hey Katherine, why are you so poor?" Les asked, without even a second thought. He thought it a fair enough question, but clearly Jack didn't, because the older boy smacked the back of his head a little harder than could have been considered merely playful.

"Hey, shut it, short stuff," Jack grunted, gripping Les's neck and yanking him back to Jack's side. "Ain't any of your business in the first place. For God's sake, ain't Davey taught ya any manners? Even I know that comment should'a stayed inside that big trap of yours, kid. Sorry, Plums, been babysittin' the little squirt for the past week and he ain't exactly Prince Charming."

Les stiffened, and stayed quiet as Jack continued his lecture. It wasn't that he minded Jack talking at him so much (although Les stood by his question), but Jack bringing up Davey kind of hurt. Because Davey had taught him manners. He had taught Les just about everything. From taking his first steps to reading his first word, Davey had been there. Davey had raised him, pretty much. Les knew that the newsies liked to make fun of he and his brother for having a "perfect" family, but Les was beginning to realize that it wasn't really like that at all. His dad had been in and out of work since Les was born, his mother was always angry and worried, and Les had been Davey's responsibility for as long as Les could remember. Davey had held him when he cried—calmly, rationally explaining to Les exactly why everything was going to be alright. Davey had explained to him the meanings of words Les knew he wasn't supposed to know, and played pirates with him in the evenings. Davey had been the one to step in that time Les had run away from him on the way to school: Davey had held him still until Les stopped squirming and explained exactly how important it was that Les stay with him at all times. Davey had protected him at all costs. And, Les understood now, there had never been anyone protecting Davey.

As Jack finished up his rant about manners—which Les had entirely tuned out—and stepped inside the apartment, Les followed, and plopped himself in the ragged armchair that stood beside the tiny kitchen. Jack leaned against the slightly rotten wall and began to outline his plan. Now this Les was interested in.

"…So, you think old man Pulitzer will do it for you? If ya ask nice? It's a good idea, ain't it?" Jack was gesturing wildly, staring earnestly into Katherine's eyes as he finally finished up his speech. She was smiling and nodding, which Les took as a good sign, so he decided to seal the deal with his patented pape-selling technique, a heartbroken pout that even Jack sometimes couldn't resist.

"Please, Katherine? You gotta ask, you just gotta!"

Katherine rolled her eyes kindly—she knew Les's routine well but was nonetheless susceptible to his less than honest charms— and ruffled his hair. "You got it, Les," she said. "I'll go talk to my father this afternoon. Let's do this. For Davey."

And Les beamed, heart pumping excitedly at the fact that finally, finally, the brother he loved so deeply was going to get the reward he deserved. Yes. For Davey.

Davey's fists were shoved deep in his pockets, pushing at the worn seams. He was still feeling the residual anger from his confrontation with Jack a few weeks ago, and here he was, heading over to the Lodging House to see him again. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

For the past few weeks, he'd been living apathetically. He'd wake up Les, walk him to the distribution center and buy him his papers, watch him run off with Jack, and start selling alone. Davey wasn't pulling in as much profit as he usually did; his heart just wasn't in it, but he was scraping by. He stayed away from the newsies, particularly Jack, his parents, and of course, Sam Gates and his crew. Unsurprisingly, he was more alone than he had ever been, and utterly miserable.

So what did he have to lose by meeting Jack? At this point, he could take whatever disappointment he was sure was coming his way. Maybe Jack would tell him that Les was his brother now—after all, Jack would be a more fun big brother to Les, and given how perfect Jack was at taking care of people (everyone except Davey himself), maybe Les would be better off. Davey gritted his teeth. As he neared the lodging house, he resigned himself to even more profound suffering in an almost masochistic fashion, and before he knew, he was standing in front of the lodging house door, ready to face all these people who had hurt him beyond belief. Davey collected himself, nodded resolutely, and swung open the door. Whatever happened, he could take it.

Later, Davey would think about how what he saw when he walked into the lodging house that day was the absolute last thing he would ever have expected to see. Ever. Because packed into the tiny front room of the building, perched on broken wooden chairs and crammed into corners, were all the newsies, broad grins beaming from their faces, each of them holding a stack of books in their arms. Jack stood in the middle of it all, one arm around Katherine, who smiled shyly at Davey, and the other around Les, who bounced up and down with pride.

Davey had no idea what to make of this incredibly ironic situation: a bunch of illiterate teenage boys surrounded by books. He looked uncertainly to Jack, who gently untangled himself from Katherine and Les and stepped forward.

"Surprise, Dave," he said, gesturing to the scene behind him.

"What- what is this, Jack? I don't understand." It was all happening too quickly for Davey to process. He'd come to the lodging house today expecting a battle, an exchange of bitter words, maybe even blows. This was a far cry from the hostile environment he had prepared himself for.

"It's all for you Davey! Katherine talked to Pulitzer and got you all these books, so you can read and learn and stuff! It was all Jack's idea, he's been planning this for weeks and he wanted to—" Les shot forward, smiling uncontrollably.

"No need to sell me so hard, kid. I ain't a phony headline. " There was Jack, with his easy charm, his protective air, moving Les to the side so he could look Davey in the eye.

"It's true, Dave. Short stuff didn't explain it too well, but Katherine here talked to her old man and got a pretty good deal out of him. He let her raid his big old library and take whatever she wanted, for a cheaper price. We got everything, Katherine says, there's the classic stuff, and Shakespeare, and boring old crap about politics and economy and history, and some guy named Charles Dickbocker-"

"Dickens," Davey said with a weepy chuckle, as he surreptitiously tried to wipe a tear from his eye. Jack did this—for him?

"Yeah, Dickens. Whatever. We even got one of Pulitzer's fancy teacher pals to teach you one on one on Sundays, free of charge. You're all set, Dave. All the boys and I, we all helped and brought all this smarty pants junk over here, and we all threw in a little of our savings to buy it all for you. And—we're gonna catch up with the scum who hurt you, teach 'em a little lesson. Nobody messes with our boys. Sam Gates won't know what hit him. We got you, Davey. We got you."

Davey held eye contact with Jack, watching his genuine enthusiasm radiate from every part of him. He took in all the newsies, who had sacrificed their hard earned money for something whose value was abstract to them, but real to Davey, which made it important. Who were going to physically fight for him, stand up for him, protect him. We got you, Davey. These guys had his back in a way he never could have expected. And Jack, the great orchestrator, his best friend in the world, his brother—

"Come here, Dave," Jack beckoned gruffly. "Our turn to take care of you." And Jack pulled Davey roughly into an embrace. Davey was vaguely aware of how strange this was for him, how unused to being cared for he was, but mostly he focused on Jack, Jack who had done his best, and when that wasn't enough, did even better for Davey, Jack whose arms were around him, literally and figuratively supporting him, holding him up. Davey couldn't hold it back anymore, and tears began to fall, picking up speed as Davey let himself relax for what he felt like was the first time in years.

"Hey, keep your tears away from my shirt, ya big crybaby," Jack grumbled, and Davey laughed and wiped his face. Jack finally let go, and Davey straightened up.

"Jack," he said, looking seriously into Jack's eyes. "Thank you. I mean it, I can't even begin—"

"Save the big words for the books, Davey," Jack said, putting his hands on Davey's shoulders. "Happy to do it."

And Jack, a man of few words when it came to heart to hearts, had put their feud to rest, apologized with the most thoughtful gesture Davey could have imagined, and Davey couldn't be more relieved.

The rest of the newsies were piling towards him, setting their stacks of books on the ground and pushing their way towards Davey himself. Les launched himself at his brother, yelling "I knew it all along and I didn't tell! Right, Davey? I didn't tell!" and Davey smiled, kneeling down to give the little boy his full attention and wrapping him in a hug. "Thanks Les," he whispered, putting his hand on the back of the kid's head.

And that moment was followed by so many more. Race, in his impatient affection, clapping him on the back and offering what, had any of the younger boys been brave enough to point it out, might have been a hug. Specs shyly offering him a copy of Treasure Island and asking if Davey might help him read it. Romeo squeezing him around the middle without shame, telling Davey that he couldn't wait until Davey was president and they'd see him in the papers every day. Katherine resting a hand on his arm and kissing him on the cheek. Crutchie, limping up and saying "You're a real brave guy, Davey. I'm honored to be your friend. " And Jack, never one to be left out of the action, yelling out, "We're proud of ya Dave, ain't we fellas?"

And the comment was greeted with a chorus of "yeah" and whooping, as Les rested his head on Davey's hip and everyone surrounded him. Jack approached him and slung an arm around his shoulder, and Davey was in the center of a horde of his brothers who had proven that they would do anything for him. And in that moment, Davey Jacobs was their hero, no longer forgotten, but immortalized by the brotherhood of newsboys who would always be his family.