Author's Note: Next chapter. And, yes, it's a very short chapter… for two reasons. One… I'm running out of ideas on how to wake these boys up and make them interesting in the middle of the night and Two… David was being very mean to me tonight. He did not want his chapter to be written but I begged and I pleaded and yes… I even squandered a bit of my dignity for the sake of a fictional character. But I did it and here it is – chapter 10.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor stake any claim, to any of the original characters shamelessly borrowed from Newsies – they are the property of Disney, © 1992. Any other character, when noted, is the property of this author.

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Sin City

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Before Las Vegas, there was New York City...
One day in the life of five newsboys in 1899 Manhattan.

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Sure. And maybe after I've pulled off that miracle, I'll go and punch out God…

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4:48 am

David can hardly sleep. He has been drifting in an out of a half sleep ever since Sarah spoke with him, heavy thoughts weighing on his mind. His pillow has been pulled and pushed this way and that until his cheek is no longer making contact with the expected softness; instead, he is lying flat on itchy sheets.

Though his blue eyes are clamped tight, as if he is trying to trick himself into believing that he is, in fact, sleep, David knows his attempts are futile. He sighs. He can nearly feel the lure of a peaceful sleep, hovering just out of his grasp. He reaches for it but misses; wearily, he opens one of his eyes and sees that it is still dark.

That annoys him. He had been hoping that when he opened his eyes he would see the rising sun – or something that stood as a signal for the new day. As it is, he just wants to forget the night before (even though he knows he won't). But the night is growing every longer and there is nothing that David can do about it. Or is there…

Rather than go back to pretending that he is asleep again, David sits up and brushes his thin blanket off to the side. He rubs his eyes once before climbing out of his bed. After he returned to his family's apartment, he had removed his pants and button-down shirt and placed them, carefully, across the dresser in the small room – almost blindly, he stumbles over to that dresser.

He gropes about in the darkness, fingers finally finding the worn material. David slips his hand inside his pocket and draws out the slightly dust brass watch he keeps inside. With a silent click, he opens the lid and tries his damndest to make out the time.

He can't. It's dark and it's almost impossible to make out the position of the hands. He shakes his curly-haired head and shoves the watch back in his pocket. But he does not go back to bed.

As quietly as he can, David slides his pants up and does up the buttons. The shirt goes on next and, without even bothering with socks, he slips his feet into his shoes.

David turns around, his ears straining to hear if anyone is stirring. He does not want to have to explain to his brother or his sister (or his parents for that matter) just what he is doing; he's not too sure himself.

Before he knows it, his feet lead him out of the apartment and up to the rooftop. The crisp, late summer air is soothing to him and the tension – the tension that he is not even aware that he is a slave too – seems to fade with every deep breath. David does not pause at the entry to the roof, though. He continues moving forward until his shins are against the edge of the wall. Only then, with the whole of New York splayed out before him, does he stop.

New York at night has always been a favorite sight of David's – especially from the envious perch of his apartment building's rooftop. When he's up there, he has the ability to watch as the city slumbers away. He can spy quietly over the vastness, taking in all of New York with a set of blue eyes; the immeasurable length of the horizon normally holding the power of making his problems dwindle away in comparison to the sheer size.

Not this night, though. Oh, yes… he feels a bit better. Yes… his jaw has unclenched itself. But, still… David Jacobs has no idea as to what he's going to do come morning. When the big, yellow moon hides itself away and the sun's beams wash over the city, bringing all the night's deeds to day, David will have to make a decision.

It's a decision he does not want to make.

Shaking his head, he glances up. It feels as it the moon is shining down on him especially – and he doesn't like that feeling. Defiantly, the boy stares back.

Not breaking his gaze with the great orb in the midnight sky, David reaches back into his pocket and pulls out the old watch. With the generous supply of lunar light, he lifts it up to his face and can finally see the position of the dark hands. He groans. It's nearly five in the morning – the distribution center won't open for another hour at least.

The pocket watch is snapped shut and it slides back into the sanctuary of David's trousers as his eyes remain unblinkingly forward. He can't tell whether he is peeved or relieved that it is only quarter to five.

He wants the night to finish… but he doesn't. He wants to confront Jack… but he doesn't.

David sighs. The way he sees it, it all comes down to loyalty. Loyalty to Sarah, his flesh and blood, or loyalty to Jack, the first real friend he ever made. He's got to either abide by Sarah's wishes and find out just what the hell Jack is up to and rat out his pal or he can save Sarah unnecessary heartache – and Jack trouble – by keeping his mouth shut.

David has never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

The nerves, previously assuaged by the night air, come back as his senses linger on the room he had unwittingly followed Jack into. The cramped, smoky environment was so intimidating to him and, as he thinks of Jack choosing to purposely seek out that establishment – and the entertainment it provides – his stomach tightens again.

Briefly – and not for the first time, hence the reason he's out on the rooftop at quarter to five in the morning – he wonders why Jack feels the need to enter those doors. Maybe, he thinks to himself as his right hand absently rubs the polished surface of his pocket watch, he can talk this whole thing over rationally with Jack. Make him see the faults in his sinful behavior, and, who knows, maybe even convince the older boy to leave those loose women behind him…

Yeah. And maybe after he pulls that miracle off, he can go run for mayor of New York.