Author's Note: Arg, as much as I like the material in my English and Sociology classes, nothing makes anything more irritating than the fact that it's homework. Ugh. Anyway, now that I've finally completed most of it, I can put up a new chapter! :) This one covers the aftermath of the newsies getting attacked by the thugs. Woot.
I now bestow virtual thank you cookies upon Austra, Narniafan96, Ealasaid Una, Rachel, LucyofNarnia, and kitcool for their rockin' reviews of awesomeness. Haha.

Chapter 14- Triage

"I need an ambulance
I took, I took the worst of a blow
Send me a redeemer
Let me know if I'm gonna be alright
Am I gonna be alright?"
~Ambulance: Eisley~

It wasn't long after the picture was taken that the newsies started to sober up. These boys had grown up on the streets and they were used to fighting and bloodshed. They knew every victory came at a price. Sometimes those prices were heavy.

Al found herself wanting to kiss Mrs. Jacobs' feet for not sending Les this morning.

Jack and Spot immediately quieted the boys and set out a plan for taking care of their newsies.

Most of the boys couldn't afford legitimate medical care. That was entirely out of the question. For the ones who had families that could, Jack had some of his healthy boys take home. With the rest, he had the healthier carry the unconscious and those who couldn't walk on their own back to the Lodge. It was the only safe place they had for the job.

Spot sent his boys home. They were mostly unharmed and those who needed medical attention were well enough to wait for Brooklyn, where their own newsies could patch them up. He, however, stayed. He said he needed to sit down with Jack after everything settled down.

Denton looked almost awed as the boys got to work immediately.

Jack turned to his sister as he waited for one of his younger boys to give a head count on how many would need attention.

"You alright, Al? Ya lookin' pretty banged up," he said, concerned as he looked over her with a wary eye.

"I'll survive. We need to get movin'. Some o' those boys is hoit pretty bad."

He nodded and his boy came back to let him know that there were at least fourteen that had to be carried and another ten that were having to be assisted in order to walk, not counting Al who was now moving on her own.

Jack nodded and they took off. Jack, Spot, David, and Al were at the front of the procession that streamed behind them. Jack had sent another two boys, who had come out with only a few bruises, ahead to put out cots, or even lay out some of the Lodge boys' blankets for the extra kids.

Denton came up beside them, brow dipped in worry as he matched their stride.

"Who are you an' whattaya want?" Spot questioned, scowl evident.

"Hey Denton," David greeted, showing the Brooklyn leader the man was clearly a friend. "Ya need something?"

"Who's going to take care of these boys?"

"We are," Jack answered, giving him a pointed look and not offering up any more information than that.

"Look, I'm going to go see if I can get a doctor friend of mine to take a look at your boys for free. Are you okay with that?" he asked, looking to the Manhattan newsies leader for a moment.

"What's the catch?"

Denton almost looked hurt. "There isn't one. I want to help. I don't know if he'll be able to come, but I can't sit by when some of you are hurt this badly. I wanted to get your approval first, before I brought him to the Newsboys Lodge."

Al gave him an appreciative look and could tell he meant every word. She was surprised, but pleasantly, that he had asked for Jack's permission first. He was beginning to understand how the newsies worked. "I'm gonna need help," was all she said, looking up to her brother.

"Yeah, that'd be a big 'elp," Jack conceded with a slight sigh.

They newsies, sans Denton, reached the Lodge only moments later. Jack immediately pulled his sister into the washroom and closed the door, instructing David to guard it for a moment and make sure the newsies triaged the patients. The other boy mentioned that Sarah had minimal medical training, but might be able to help some. Jack told him to send a runner to their house and David was more than happy to oblige.

Al grimaced as she pulled her shirt up to her bra's waistband (the only article of female clothing Al owned) and revealed her ribs. She had never been one to bruise very quickly. In fact, her bruises generally looked worse the day after a fight, but her left side was already a sickening red-purple color and getting darker by the second. Jack apologized before starting to feel her ribs for breaks.

"What happened here?" Jack questioned, not looking up. Al's face was contorting in pain as he provoked the bruise and it was a moment before she trusted herself to speak.

"Club got me. Twice," she hissed. Jack growled, muttering under his breath, before standing.

"You has two broken ribs," Jack told her, reaching up to get some bandage to wrap around her midsection. She warned him not to use too much, because the boys would need it and he nodded.

"Why's ya voice so raspy?" he asked as he wrapped her.

"Guy tried to strangle me. Davy broke a club on the back o' his head for it."

Jack gave a grim smile before joining her to wash his hands quickly.

"You'd bettah put ya hair up befah Kloppman gets back."

She looked in the mirror and saw her hair was entirely loose and falling around her face. She nodded, splashing water on her face before sticking it into the cap one of the younger boys had retrieved for her earlier.

They headed out the door to the washroom and were immediately bombarded with wounded. Al went immediately to the one deemed to be in the worst condition and felt tears prick her eyes as she found herself standing over Snipeshooter.

She set to work immediately, using David as her assistant while Jack and Racetrack worked on some of those who weren't hurt as badly. Mush was sent downstairs to get Kloppman's medical aid kit and he brought it back up, a basket she recognized all too well.

She pulled his buttoned up shirt open and choked back a sob as her eyes fell on the stab wound on his stomach.

"They had knives?" she questioned, mostly to herself.

She knew thugs carried knives regularly, heck she'd been attacked with them more than once, but it didn't make her feel any better. She forced herself to remain composed as she washed off the wound, first with a wet cloth and then with some sanitizing stuff that Kloppman had used on her a few times before. It stung like hell, she knew, but Snipe didn't react and that scared her more than anything.

"David, I need ya to hand me the curved needle an' the thread." she told him, ignoring all else as she set to tending to the younger boy's wound. It was noisy in the bunkroom, but Al made herself block it all out. She didn't even notice when, halfway through stitching up Snipeshooter's wound, Sarah showed up and started working on helping to take care of the boys.

Al tied off the stitches and had David help her lift Snipeshooter up to sitting after she placed a good amount of gauze on the wound and wrapped the bandages over it to hold her work in place. She cleaned his face next and made sure there wasn't any other major damage, though she bandaged what she found needed it. He had lost a fair amount of blood, but she thought he would be okay. She ran to wash her hands and had David sanitize the needle, knowing without a doubt that she'd need it again.

"You looked like you've done that before," David pointed out as she rushed to dry her hands.

"I have. More times than I can count." And she was telling the whole truth.

She ran back to the next in line for triage and found Sarah doing her best to help. It was Runner and his head trauma was pretty bad. The older girl had cleaned off the wound, but she was fidgeting now, not knowing what to do.

"He needs stitches," Sarah said, turning to look up at her and Al saw that tears were pouring down the other girl's face. "I don't know how to give stitches."

"I do. It'll be fine," Al soothed. "Go to the next in line and get him ready for me, alright?"

Sarah nodded, looking considerably calmer now that she had something she could do to help. Still, tears continued to trek down her face as she walked away.

David was back in a matter of seconds and she was beyond grateful. Sarah's distress had unnerved her and seeing that she had someone to help her kept her from letting it get to her. She splayed her fingers nervously before sanitizing Runner's head wound.

She wanted to wince for the boy as she stuck the needle in and found herself remembering the first time she'd stitched up someone's head. It was that night that her father cracked the bottle over Jack's head. She'd been so small, just as Jack had been. She wanted to throw up at the memory of Jack asking her to stitch it together. She'd had to use a straight needle and Jack had waited patiently as she worked with trembling fingers. She had broken down sobbing afterward and Jack had held her while she cried. They were lucky the wound had never gotten infected. Jack still had the scar, though.

Her fingers must have started trembling at the memory, because she felt David put a hand on her shoulder.

"You can do this, Al," he reminded her gently. "Just breathe. You can do this."

She nodded and pushed her memories out of her mind, forcing herself to focus only on stitching up Runner's head. She sent David down for ice when she was halfway done, knowing the swelling would only get worse if she didn't, and that could yield badly for him. David helped hold Runner's head up as they wrapped a bandage around it and placed the ice atop it.

"You alright? You seemed to freak out a little there," David said as she hurried to wash her hands again and get to the next patient. She found the need to wash her hands after each patient tedious, but knew it was just as necessary as having David clean and sterilize the needle before each set of stitches.

"I was rememberin' when I had to give Jack stitches as a kid. It was the foist set of stitches I ever gave," she answered, drying her hands off again.

He nodded solemnly. "How old-"

"Come on, we gotta get to the next person."

She made it through two more patients and was finally feeling like things were going well. Every breath she took hurt and she kept wondering when there wouldn't be any more wounded boys to take care of. Surely there would be an end. Suddenly, a snapping noise and a loud cry of pure agony echoed through the room. Al jumped nearly three feet in the air and Sarah let out a small scream in response. Not to mention, most of the conscious boys on the beds nearly fell off of them.

Al was on her feet before she could think about it and had moved in next to Jack. He was standing with a few other boys over Itey, who had his teeth clenched and tears pouring from his eyes.

"We had to set his leg. It was pretty bad," was all Jack said. She nodded, looking over the now purpling skin. It wasn't a compound fracture, so they didn't need her help.

She moved to walk away when she saw Denton and another man with a large black bag in his hand. She went to greet them.

"You the doc?" she asked after nodding to them in acknowledgement.

"Yes, I'm here to help. What have you done so far?" Al took him over quickly, showing him both Snipeshooter and Runner first, explaining that they had been the ones to come in the worst condition. She hoped he would check them out, just to make sure she hadn't missed doing something that could help.

"I stitched 'em up already, but they ain't wakin' yet. An' my bruddah already set Itey's broke leg ovah there. Sarah's fixin' up the boys whose bones don't need settin', only some splints'n such."

The doctor looked over both boys, flashing a small flashlight in their eyes and examining her stitching. She started to fidget, thinking she needed to get back to working on the boys.

"You did really well, young man," he said, fixing the spectacles on his nose. "These boys might have died if you hadn't been there for them." The idea made nausea rise up in her stomach and she knew her face was paling without looking at it. "You did well, son."

She left him shortly after that. He both supervised and took over the worse cases, letting Al get to the ones who just needed a few stitches or something of the like. David still hovered and helped her take care of the needles. She suspected he didn't know what else to do and he wasn't the sort who would just sit there and not help.

Spot, however, was exactly that sort of person.

She noticed him lounging in the hallway while she was walking from the washroom for the near thousandth time, just as Sarah called David over for a momet. He was clearly in fine condition. A bruise on his cheek and his dishevelled hair and clothes the only indication that he'd been in a fight little more than an hour or two ago. She was glad to find him sitting there, because she needed someone to run an errand and most of the boys had either left, were wounded, or were helping with the wounded.

"Heya, dollface," he greeted her.

She walked over to him and wordlessly held out a dime. He quirked an eyebrow at her and waited for her to speak.

"I need ya to go get more bandages. The doc's 'bout to run out an' we still got boys who need it."

"Find one o' your boys to take care of it."

Al bristled. "My boys is hoit, Spot. An' you're here sittin' on ya lazy, good-for-nothin' rear. Someone's gotta go get these bandages an' it had bettah be you."

"I don't gotta do nothin' for your boys, Ali. They ain't my concoin." He crossed his arms as he stood, telling her to back off with his body language as well as his words. "I'm here to talk to Jacky-boy an' I ain't movin' 'til I do."

She knew subconsciously that this was a bad way to get Conlon to do anything. Coaxing was often more effective than confrontation with him, but she was too on edge for that right now. All she was aware of was how angry she was and how badly she wanted to take that frustration out on the Brooklyn leader who sat there with his cocky smirk while her Manhattan newsies were suffering in the other room.

She snarled as he just stood there, daring her to make a move. She didn't think he'd hit her. He wasn't stupid enough to jump the leader's sister in their own lodging house and she knew it. But she knew his infamous temper wasn't exaggerated and didn't want to take the chance right now, when pain was shooting through her system with nearly every movement she made.

"I'll get them," David said, coming in and putting a hand on Al's shoulder, clearly worried that things would come to blows. "I'll be back before ya know it."

Al let out a breath and stepped back, still fuming. She handed the dime to her friend and bid him to hurry before heading back into the bunkroom. She turned back to Spot, face angry. "You helped me once, Spot, and I'll always be grateful for that. But you're not that same kid anymore. You're just a rotten piece o' trash who don't care 'bout nobody."

It was an hour or two after noon when the newsies were done being cared for. Denton took a picture of the room with that fancy camera of his, invited them to lunch at Tibby's provided by himself tomorrow, and left with the doctor. Al surveyed the room from where she sat, leaning up against the wall. Jack was talking to Spot in the next room, discussing the state of things, and David had gone to walk Sarah home, saying he'd be back soon. Half of the boys were asleep and the rest were talking or playing cards as usual. The room felt eery and quiet to her. She was used to boys tackling and climbing over each other in here. She couldn't remember ever seeing this many hurt in one room.

Racetrack came and sat beside her. He sported a black right eye and a shallow knife wound on his arm that had been bandaged. His knuckles had a bit of dried blood from being skinned by his punches. They were too calloused to need bandaging. In fact, most of the older boys, sans David who wasn't used to fighting this often, had foregone the cloth around their knuckles so there would be enough for the worse damage. The only reason Jack and Al had used them was because their knuckles had only just started healing when they entered the fray this morning, so the fight had only torn them up worse.

"How ya holdin' up, Al?" Racetrack asked, studying her with a keen eye.

"I've been bettah, but I've also been woise." She tried to shrug and only managed to wince.

"Ya get tended to?"

"Yeah, Jacky fixed me up befah I started woikin' on anyone. Jus' some broke ribs an' a couple o' bruises," she explained, still looking forward at the boys in the room. "Don't feel much like a vict'ry when everybody's hurt."

"It'll feel more like one latah, though. 'Specially once ya get some sleep an' the boys is startin' to feel more like theirselves," he told her, then spared her a sideways glance. "I hoid Davy came to ya rescue today."

"Yeah, I woulda been in real bad shape if 'e hadn't been there," she conceded.

"It was awful sweet o' him, don't ya think?"

Al's eyes narrowed and she turned to peer at him. "Whattaya tryin' to say, Race?"

"I'm jus' wonderin' if ya getting sweet on the kid, that's all." Race shrugged nonchalantly, though she didn't doubt there was a twinkle in his eyes that she couldn't see from this angle.

"Now why would I be doin' sommat like that?"

"Don't ask me, I ain't a goil," he pointed out, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Hmm," was her only response. She laid her head on her good friend's shoulder, feeling the exhaustion creep further into her system. Her eyes were getting heavy and they drooped.

"You didn't answer the question, Cap."

"Shut up, Race."