Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Warning: Mentions of violence
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️
SING SING PRISON, 1899
It was three days since Jack had scabbed. Three days of confusion, anger, devastation from those around him. He couldn't look his newsies in the eye, couldn't find the right words to say. Jack didn't know where to begin. What was there to explain?
He'd caved, given up, quit, defected, went AWOL. If only the boys knew the truth. If only they knew he was doing it to keep them from the Refuge. Even then, it still didn't sit right. None of this scabbing business felt justifiable. And Jack hated himself for being so arrogant, so blind to the cause. Of course, Pulitzer didn't care about him, not really. He was looking out for his own best interest, just like Jack.
And Weasel was all too eager to play his role of jailor in the basement of the distribution center. "One trick, Cowboy, and I go straight to Mr. Pulitzer," he'd told Jack on the first night. "Lift one finger, and it's right back to the Refuge."
Well, Jack wouldn't give him any chances. Not if he could help it.
Snyder was determined to teach Jack a thing or two about the miserable existence he could look forward to if he continued his ways. And that included running away.
On his third day of selling out, Snyder arranged for he and Jack to take a little trip. A little trip that would surely leave Jack malleable to Snyder's will.
The train passed through a densely forested coastal landscape, giving Jack a taste of what leaving the city would feel like. He sat across from Snyder in an elegant dining car, no longer shackled, but kept in place by the Warden's perpetual, iron glare.
"Why?" Jack finally managed to ask after a considerably quiet 30 minutes.
Snyder looked up at him from his newspaper. "Why…"
"Why are you taking me to the penitentiary? Ain't I been cooperative enough?"
"I think you will find it to be most edifying," Snyder replied, going back to his newspaper.
Jack fidgeted with his cufflinks. He was still dressed in the grey suit Pulitzer had given him to wear. It was ill-fitting and terribly itchy on such a summer afternoon. "Edifying?" He echoed, trying out the word.
"You sound like a damn parrot," Snyder said. "Why don't you say something original for once?"
"You never answered my question."
Snyder met his eyes. "These dwell among the blackest souls, loaded down deep by sins of differing types. If you sink far enough, you'll see them all."
Jack shook his head. "What?" He repeatedly unfastened and refastened his left cufflink.
"We're going to visit some of your old…friends."
The fidgeting stopped. "My old friends?" Jack asked quietly. "Who?"
Snyder nodded.
Jack drummed his fingers on the table, his knee bouncing.
Snyder observed his movements. "You're nervous."
"I ain't," Jack said. "It's just…you know I ain't taking laudanum no more." He tried to sit still.
Snyder smirked and lifted his teacup, taking a slow sip.
The train squealed.
Jack folded his right hand over his trembling left.
A half an hour later, a guard led Snyder and Jack down a long, dark stairwell. Behind them, the iron gate leading to the outside swung closed. Everything echoed off the walls.
Jack could hear cells unlocking and doors creaking.
At the bottom of the steps, they waited at the barred entrance while a second guard opened it from the other side. Snyder and Jack followed the first guard inside after he jangled the keys in the lock. They followed him through yet another gate leading to the cells.
"No talking to the prisoners," The guard announced as they walked. "And don't touch anything."
Jack made eye contact with a grey-bearded man in the prison's striped uniform as he clung to the cell bars. From somewhere down the block, Jack could hear a chain rattling. Metal scraping against metal. Men shouting in the distance. Iron clanking.
They made their way further in, and Jack saw another prisoner facing the wall. Rushing to the front of his cell, another prisoner exchanged stares with the Snyder as he walked by.
A guard carrying a large key ring stood as the three made their way to a cell at the end of the hall. "You've got 15 minutes," the guard said in a gruff voice.
Jack stared into the cell.
The thin-haired guard unlocked the cell. "Hey, McGurk. Krause. You've got some visitors," he said. "Be good. Or else."
Snyder glanced at Jack, nodding, and urged him onward. Jack took a deep breath, tentatively stepping inside the cell.
The guard closed the door behind him, waiting outside with Snyder.
"Tide…Grim…" Jack breathed, at the two shadowy figures on opposite ends of the cell, chained around the wrists, ankles, and neck – all connected to the wall beside them.
"It's me," Jack said, a bit louder. "Jack Kelly."
The forlorn prisoner who Jack recognized as Tide stood and approached him, his chains rattling. Jack could see the fresh bruises under his eyes, the dried blood on his split lip. His dark hair reached just above his shoulders, tangled and unwashed like vines. He reached out his shackled hands, and Jack flinched.
Reluctantly, Jack shook his right hand, grimacing at how cold it felt. Tide turned, looking at Grim with a chuckle. "Hey, Grim. Look who it is."
His arms wrapped around his knees, Grim slowly looked up, revealing a horribly beaten face, a broken nose, and blonde hair so dirty it looked dark.
Tide stepped forward, laughing again. "It sure is good to see you, Jack," he said. "You moved up in the world, huh? Dressed up like one of them dandies."
Jack looked down at his suit, suddenly ashamed. "Oh, that…that's a long story."
"We always have time for a story," Tide grinned, the bruises around his eyes making him look sinister. "Ain't that right, Grim?"
Jack looked over Tide's shoulder at the huddled young man. He looked sick. "How are you?" Jack asked, keeping his eyes locked on Tide as he stepped further into the cell.
"How are we? How the hell are you?" Tide rushed forward, stopping at the sudden pull of his chains. "You find out you're a Vanderbilt heir or something? What gives? I heard about the strike, about some kid leading a newsboy union, and I said to Grim, that must be Jack. But here you are, all fancy-like, escorted by Snyder, talking to us."
"What's your question—"
"My question is what the fuck?" Tide laughed despite the desperation his eyes. "Half of them trolley strikers that get thrown in here are as ragged and filthy as the rest of us. You didn't sell out, did you?"
Jack's silence was met with Tide's whole expression falling. "Jack…" He trailed off, leaning back on a bench. "You did."
"It ain't what you think," Jack muttered. "I ain't like the rest of 'em. I got a sister to look out for. If I scab, I stay out of the Refuge. And the rest stay out of the Refuge, too. I didn't have a choice."
"We always have a choice," Tide said. "Always."
Jack gave an anxious shrug. "Well, I guess I ain't as smart as the two of you."
"We've been in Sing-Sing for two and a half years," Tide said, a grave look in his eyes. "You call that smart?"
"Why are you here, Jack?" Grim's hoarse voice was barely audible.
Jack looked at him, all but dead. "Snyder wanted me to visit some—"
"Do you know where the hell you are?" Grim interrupted him. He sounded faraway. "Do you understand what this place is?"
"State penitentiary," Jack replied. "I know what this is, Grim. My father's here—"
"Your father ain't down here," Grim said, his voice flat. It made Jack's stomach drop. "This is the last stop…" he stretched his legs out, trying to pull himself up.
"Before what?"
Tide lowered his gaze. "You didn't hear?"
Jack's eyes were wide with panic, his blood running cold. "No. Hear what?"
"What, you think we'd just get a scolding for killing Whalen? A few months in solitary?" Tide laughed, shaking his head. "Where the hell have you been?"
A flood of vague memories came back to Jack. Bits and pieces like a flashbulb. Things he hadn't thought about in a long time.
Calico's lifeless body. Overturned furniture in the dormitory, broken glass, shattered windows. Unconscious guards, lying beaten in the corridor. A siren blaring loudly. Mr. Whalen – really, most sincerely dead in a pool of blood on the front steps of the Refuge. Tide, a mess of tears and panic, pacing on the roof. Grim, catching his breath at the edge, staring down from the great height in stunned awe.
Yes, Jack remembered. He remembered everything. And he hadn't been naïve enough to think Tide and Grim would get off easy.
The murder conviction had landed the two unfortunates in Sing-Sing Prison. But as far as Jack knew, they were simply in there for life. Apparently, no one had told him otherwise.
At their trial, Monaghan had labeled the two "hardened reprobates" who have been guilty of numerous robberies and other outrages. Though both Tide and Grim denied participation in any other murder.
"Am I the only one to see you?" Jack wondered aloud.
Tide shrugged. "Crazy's come once. Doc has, too. And River. To say goodbye. Haven't heard from no one else. Not the either of us have any real family. Wish I could see No Name one last time, but last I heard he's still in Ward's Island Asylum. Doesn't even talk no more, River said."
"To say goodbye?" Jack mumbled, looking from Tide to Grim.
"We got sentenced six months ago, Jack," Tide said, looking at the newsie like he was crazy.
"Yeah, to life in prison," Jack finished, shaking his head.
"To hang by the neck until dead," Grim corrected him, his voice gravelly. "Actually."
"But…" Jack was speechless with sudden grief, feeling hot tears sting his eyes. "I thought—"
Tide chewed on his lip. "I thought we'd at least get the electric chair," he said, trying to laugh. "But Snyder wants us to suffer one last time. Monaghan does whatever he tells him."
Grim looked as though his brain was wandering, speaking unconsciously. "Ain't so bad. A condemned man gets special privileges other prisoners don't get."
"Yeah?" Jack tried to keep his voice even.
Grim nodded. "The Reverend something-or-other who visits us sometimes, he said my kid's still alive," he sniffled, a weak smile on his lips, absolute vacancy in his blue eyes. "And he knows where he is. He was out west with a family for a while, near Santa Fe, of all places," Grim exhaled. "But they shipped him back here to an orphanage in the city. Only Reverend can't let me see him."
"Asked if I believe in Jesus Christ," Grim went on with Tide giving his friend a worried look. "Said he hears our prayers. That God moves in mysterious ways, and it was best that my son never know me." He gave Jack a pointed look. "But now, knowing I'll be dead in a few months, that's all I want."
Jack swallowed hard. Both looked haunted. Tide kept his eyes downcast. Grim kept his expression doggedly indifferent and firm. "I…" Jack began, searching for the right words. "I have money. Pulitzer gave me dough for scabbing." He said shakily. "I could bribe the folks at the orphanage, maybe. Or sneak him out of there, bring him to you."
Grim shook his head. "Jack, I'd never ask you to do something so crazy," he said. "Besides, I'm not in the habit of kidnapping."
"But it's your kid," Jack replied. "I don't understand. There are things we can do. You don't want me to try?"
"I don't want you doing something stupid that will land you in here, hitsiger," Grim said, giving Jack a sad smile.
Tide nodded. "Sounds like those kids need you out there," he said. "After all, you're the leader now from what I hear. No one needs us no more."
"I do," Jack whispered, his pained expression stopping both young men like a blow to the chest. "I need you. I've already ruined it. They don't trust me, not after this. They need real leaders, like you."
"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit," Tide said. "You could've left the city by now. But you haven't."
"You remember that night in the dormitory, when Calico was very sick, and everyone was losing their minds, trying to keep him from dying," Grim said, taking Jack's arm. "Someone stepped up. Someone kept him alive that night. Someone stood up to those guards. Someone kept No Name from getting thrown in solitary. Someone got everyone out the night of the fire," Grim went on.
Jack gave him a puzzled expression.
"Quit looking at me like that," Grim laughed quietly. "That someone was you, Jack."
"You are a real leader," Tide said.
Jack didn't know what to say. Before the words could even sink in, the guard banged on the cell door with his baton.
"Times up!" He yelled. "Let's go, boy! Move!"
Jack paused, not wanting to leave.
Snyder appeared in the cell doorway. "Now that you've had a taste of your future, I hope you'll comport yourself more obediently," he said to Jack. He nodded over to Tide and Grim. "You're no better than them, Sullivan. Bad blood. I'll be attending your execution soon enough, I'd expect."
Tide and Grim's eyes went from miserable to murderous in less than a second as they glared at Snyder. "Jack will attend yours before you attend his," Grim said to the Refuge warden, absent of fear, with nothing to lose.
Snyder gave Grim a cold stare with a smug smirk. Jack could tell whatever was going to come from the warden's mouth next would be damaging. "I'd watch your mouth, young man," Snyder said in an unsettling, calm voice. "When your little brat passes through my Refuge – and believe me, he will – I'll make sure he pays for your insolence, worse than you've ever known."
Grim lunged at Snyder, chains rattling, as he wrapped his hands around Snyder's neck, beginning to choke him – his eyes wild and bloodshot, spouting curses.
"Let go at once!" A guard yelled as he burst in and pulled Grim off Snyder. He dragged Grim to the bench and began beating him mercilessly with the baton.
Snyder grabbed Jack by his sleeve and pulled him from the scene. Jack stopped and looked back, only to be dragged along once again.
For the whole ride back to the city, despite Snyder's lecture on what loomed ahead for Jack, the boy simply stared out of the train window, lost in thought, greatly shaken, and blinded by rage.