Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual abuse

Love youuu 💗

𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️

House of Refuge, 1897

Upon Dr. Fuller's arrival on the island, he instructed the ward boys be given a chance to speak with him in private. There was little Snyder could do to object – the CAS board had the final say, and so far, they saw Fuller as more than on the level.

Jack was called in last, now back in the dingy Refuge uniform. He cautiously knocked, only opening the door after he got the approval to come in.

Dr. Fuller sat at a large desk, rifling through the drawers. His office had been converted from an old records room, wall to wall shelves housing inmate files and books that have long since been abandoned. For the time being, the office was cluttered and dark, with one window to let in the overcast light. "Mr. Francis Sullivan," Dr. Fuller said without looking up, searching for something in the overflowing drawer.

Jack sat down in the chair across from the desk, waiting patiently.

"There," Fuller said triumphantly, finding a pen that wasn't out of ink. "Friends call you Jack Kelly?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow. "How did you come by that name?"

"Yes, sir. I've gone by that name for years. Makes it easier to…well, the wrong people won't recognize me with that name."

"What would you prefer I call you?"

"Jack's fine," the boy said, shrugging.

Fuller's face softened with a smile. "Very well," he nodded. "I suppose it's a shock to see me here, permanently I hope. I've been assigned to work with you boys. Listen to your troubles, help you cope. I know it's difficult in here."

"When I got sent up, Judge Monaghan said I might get parole since it was my first offense," Jack said quickly. "When…when would that be?"

Fuller stared back at him a bit surprised. "Well, you were sentenced to three months, but I see here you are now serving six months. Disruptive behavior in the dormitory," he said, scanning the file. "I'm sorry to say you will not be eligible for at least four months, which would put us in February. And even then, a lot of that depends on your conduct."

Jack lowered his gaze. "I'm screwed," he mumbled under his breath.

Fuller, who hadn't quite heard him, looked up. "Hm?"

"I said, yes sir," Jack replied more audibly.

Fuller sighed, digging out a case of cigarette and handing Jack one. "Smoke?"

"Yes, thank you," Jack said, taking the cigarette gratefully.

Fuller lit it for him and returned to the file. "I see here that your father – John Patrick Sullivan – was your legal guardian. How does he feel about your being in here?"

Jack took a long drag from the cigarette and rolled his eyes furtively. "He doesn't care. We don't talk much anymore."

"Why is that?"

"He left us after my sister Sophie was born. I don't remember my mother much, but she died when I was seven. My father came back to live with us so we wouldn't have to go to an orphanage."

"Did you not get along?" Fuller asked.

Jack had a pained, cold expression on his face. "Oh, he taught me how to pick pockets, rob crowds, slice purses and wallets, break into shops. When we were little, he said he was teaching us not to starve."

"What happened?"

Jack paused and took another drag. "When we got older, he said picking pockets wasn't enough. He wanted Sophie to work."

Fuller looked at Jack curiously, a worried gleam in his eye. "Work?"

Jack shrugged again. "You know…work," he said simply.

Fuller nodded, not entirely understanding but having some idea. "And did she?"

"No. We ran away shortly after that," Jack said. "Few days later, he was sent to Sing Sing. Whatever he was mixed up in caught up to him, I guess."

Fuller looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he stared at Jack with renewed sympathy. "Where did you go?"

"We stayed with a friend of my father's. She's a good lady. Made sure we stayed safe. We learned to handle ourselves okay," Jack finished distantly.

"Not well enough. You're in here," Fuller said with a smile. "But I think you're going to do fine, Jack. This is your second month in here, and it's my first day. And I'm wise to Snyder as much as the rest of you, after all that's happened. I hope you and the other boys will come to me with any problems you have. I'll listen, and I'll work with you to make it as easy as I can. Is that a plan?"

Jack put out the cigarette. "It's a plan."

After the brief meeting, Jack and the others were sent to Snyder's office for that talk he hadn't been able to have with them the night prior.

Snyder set down the newspaper he was reading and peered over at them. His skin looked too tight on his face, his piercing eyes almost insinuating he knew something they didn't. He was eating lunch at his desk and set down his fork before standing. "I thought I smelled fear," he said, grinning a little too haughtily for Jack's liking. "Welcome back to our boarding school, gentlemen. I see you're all accounted for."

When Snyder walked to them, Jack noticed a set of about twenty keys jingling from his belt loop. "After all, this is your home now," he continued, looking all of them in the eye down the row. As he called roll, each boy muttered a 'yes, sir,' keeping the eyes straight ahead. Snyder knew they were devastated to be back, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

Snyder slammed the clipboard down onto his desk. "You may be numbers to all the rest, but not to me. Don't I always use your names?" He said, folding his arms. "You fix your behavior, and we'll get along again. Your new dormitory assignment is clean and secure. The bars on those windows have been reinforced, I assure you. Try as you might, you will not get out. So, do not try anything stupid. What did I just say, boy?"

He was staring at River, who appeared to be in a world of his own. The boy snapped out of it quickly, looking around nervously and then back at Snyder. "D-don't do anything stupid, sir?" He echoed quietly.

"You damn Polack," Snyder growled, shaking his head.

Tide rolled his eyes. "He ain't Polish," he said loudly, eyes to the floor. "He's Romanian, you damn Yank."

Jack laughed quietly and then immediately regretted it when Snyder shifted his glare from Tide to him.

"I'll remember that remark," Snyder said sternly to Tide. "You answer to me on every count," he went on to the rest of them, lighting a cigar. "I expect full respect from now on. No more exceptions. All contraband is hereby forbidden unless I say otherwise."

He looked Jack up and down, landing on his mother's religious medal around his neck. "What's that bullshit around your neck. That's not allowed."

"It's Saint Philomena," Jack replied. "She's the patron saint of babies, youth—"

"I don't give a rat's ass what she's the patron saint of. Give it to me," he said, holding out his hand.

"No," Jack said, his face flushing of color, his pulse quickening. He clasped the medal tightly. "No, you can't have it."

Snyder looked around at the rest of them, picking out Lion, Doc, Atlas, Rails, and River – all of whom had similar religious medals or pendants around their necks.

"I have rules here. New ones, strict ones," Snyder said, shaking his head. "It's been a long, hard morning. Don't make me force it off you. Let's go, quickly now."

Grim spoke up. "Is that necessary, sir?" He asked, his voice low and slow. "It's important to them."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Snyder cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Grim. "Did you not hear what I said about respect?"

Jack forced an indifferent expression, though inside he was panicked at the thought of handing over the last thing he had of his mother's. "But you said I could keep it when I got here," he said.

Snyder scoffed. "Well, I've changed my mind," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

The other five boys removed theirs reluctantly, giving them to Snyder without further protest, knowing it would all in vain.

Jack kissed the medal, before hesitantly unclasping it from around his neck and dropped it in Snyder's open palm. The warden dangled the necklaces, pinched between his thumb and index finger, and went around to his desk. He took a smoke from the cigar and then opened a drawer, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth. "They'll be safely kept with me," he said, dropping them in the drawer with a soft clank. "You'll get them back when your time is up." He kicked the drawer closed loudly.

Jack flinched at the sound, giving Lion an uncertain look. "Dinner in four hours," Snyder said, settling back into his seat. "Go back to the dorm."

The boys trudged up the flight of stairs, winding around the dark, cold staircase. Mr. Whalen's keys jingled as he led them, twirling the club he carried through his fingers expertly. The noise from other dormitories echoed off the corridor, some laughing, some crying, some high-pitched shrieks. The younger children were housed on lower floors, along with lesser offenders.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get cocaine now," Muggs mumbled to Alexei as soon as they got inside the dorm. "Sounds like Snyder ain't cutting no more deals."

"I feel like bugs are crawling around in my head," Alexei replied with a small shrug. "Hey, No Name!" He called over to the dark-haired boy. "How do you get the bugs out of your head?"

No Name gave Alexei a strange look. "Huh?"

"You sure it ain't lice?" Muggs said. "Only difference between you two is the gypsy's a lunatic," he nodded over to No Name. "Ain't that right? Ain't you belong in one of them asylums?"

Alexei rolled his eyes. "Don't compare me to him. At least I got my faculties."

"Lay off No Name," Grim said, stepping in the way of Muggs, meeting his eyes. "He ain't done nothing to you."

"One lunatic defending another lunatic," Muggs offered a close-lipped smirk, inching forward, making Grim back up. "I ain't forget your mother was a hysteric. A Blackwell's Island whore. And that makes you just like her."

"Muggs—" Jack tried to intervene, but the older boy cut him off.

"I ain't talking to you, Duane Street," Muggs said.

Grim turned to Jack and shook his head, as if to say, 'I've got this.'

The others grew quiet as all attention turned to the argument. "You shouldn't be calling anyone's mother a whore," Jack continued, regaining confidence in the newfound audience. "Unless you're referring to your own mother."

Muggs crossed the room to Jack in an instant, challenging him with a cold stare. "What did you say, Sullivan?" He asked with a small smirk.

"The name's Kelly," Jack corrected him. "Jack Kelly."

Grim raised his eyebrows at Jack's brashness. "Jack, just walk away. I ain't upset."

"Well, you should be!" Jack exclaimed. "He doesn't get to talk to people like that."

The other boys whispered to one another, muttering, and settling in to watch whatever was about to happen.

Grim rolled his eyes again, not seeing any point in this.

Jack turned to Muggs. "How about you apologize," he said, taking a step forward. "To No Name and Grim."

Muggs stared at Jack, smirking quietly. Out of nowhere, his expression dropped and he shoved Jack backwards so hard that Jack hit his head against the bunk bed frame behind him. "How about I knock your teeth out?" Muggs roared, red in his eyes.

Jack caught his balance and felt the back of his head. No blood. He breathed out with relief.

Some of the boys cheered Jack on, encouraging him to fight, while others protested for peace.

"Let it go, Jack," Grim said calmly, wanting to prevent any further injury.

"Let it go, Jack," Muggs mocked him. "He always tells you what to do?" He asked Jack, tilting his head.

"They might be scared of you," Jack said, referencing the whole dorm. "But I ain't."

He started to walk past Muggs when the older boy grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the floor. "Prove it!" Muggs yelled.

Jack pulled himself up just to be sent right back down when Muggs delivered a strong right hook to his jaw. Jack brought a hand to the sore spot, trying to keep it loose. Half of the boys urged Jack to get up and fight back.

Muggs turned to look at them, and Jack jumped up, locking his hands around Muggs' throat. Muggs grabbed Jack's wrists, trying to pry his hands away. They both ended up on the floor where they continued to roll and throw punches at one another.

Muggs was on top of Jack, landing blow after blow to his face while Jack blocked them as best he could. Grim grabbed Muggs, trying to pull him off Jack. "That's enough, Muggs!" Grim yelled, doubling over when Muggs elbowed him sharply in the stomach.

Jack finally got the upper hand, sinking his teeth onto Muggs' hand and biting down hard. Muggs hissed, spouting out a stanza of colorful curses, giving Jack a chance to throw a punch to Muggs' nose.

Muggs was half-laughing, blood staining his teeth. "That all you got?" He smirked, holding out his arms.

His adrenaline taking over, Jack lunged at him.

A whistle blew three consecutive times, freezing all the boys in their tracks.

Jack kept going, pummeling Muggs in the face, screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding Muggs apologize. He felt a meaty pair of hands pull him off the older boy by his shoulders and upper arms, standing him up. "Break it up!" Mr. Whalen yelled.

Muggs got up, standing near Alexei, a wry smile on his lips, spitting out blood.

Jack, on the other hand, was fuming. Whalen maintained his grip on Jack's collar. "Already stirring up shit, I see," Whalen said to Jack.

"He started it," Jack said, pointing to Muggs, wiping his bloody nose with a sleeve.

"Don't talk back to me!" Whalen growled, hitting Jack upside the head. His frown deepened. "I told Snyder, I said you'd be more trouble than you're worth." He turned to Muggs. "And I think I've had just about enough of your insolence, Tracey. Do we need to have another word in private about obedience?"

"Go fuck yourself," Muggs fired back without hesitation, something in his eyes flickering.

Alexei averted his gaze, nudging his friend to calm him down.

"You have just lost one privilege," Whalen said, his expression hardening as he looked at Jack.

Jack caught his breath. "But he—"

"You're talking back, again," Whalen interrupted with a slow chuckle. "You want to lose two privileges?"

Jack went silent and looked away.

Whalen nodded in satisfaction. He turned to face the others. "The name of the game, gentlemen, is obedience, order, and discipline. You are nothing without rules. No one leaves this dormitory until dinner," he demanded.

This statement was met with groaning and protest from some of the boys. Without another word, Whalen left the room again, locking the door behind him.

The boys walked back to their bunks, patting Jack comfortingly as they passed him.

Muggs moved to his bunk without so much as a glance Jack's way, but Jack noticed the small smile on his face, his eyes cast to the floor as he nodded to himself.

Reluctantly, Jack sat down in his bunk. Slowly, curled up in the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest, and laid his head down on the pillow.

The canteen was the same as before, having suffered no damage from the fire. The windows were barred up, and each door was sentried by guards. Dinner process was organized and routine.

Jack held his tray of grey-looking mashed potatoes, stale bread, and water as he followed Lion toward one of the tables. No Name balanced his tray behind Jack, a bit in awe that Jack had stood up for him without really knowing anything about him.

The children all stood behind the benches of the tables, waiting.

Snyder waited until every inmate was standing behind a table and then tapped his cane loudly. They all sat down at the tables and waited again. Snyder smirked and tapped his cane a second time. Quickly, they all began to eat.

A guard walked up and down the rows of tables.

Jack looked down to the end of the table, his gaze resting on Muggs. The older boy sat in between Alexei and Crazy. Alexei was picking at his food again, and he didn't object when Muggs finished the rest of his meal for him.

"It's too cold in here," Alexei mumbled, holding his head in his hands.

Jack leaned over and whispered to Lion, "Alexei looks like he's going to pass out again."

"He does it to himself," Lion murmured back with a shrug.

"I feel sorry for him."

Lion rolled his eyes. "Don't."

Jack continued to stare at the three, not caring when Alexei noticed.

Alexei whispered something to Muggs and gestured in Jack's direction. "Hey, Muggs," he said. "I think the kid's putting a curse on you."

Muggs followed his gaze and met Jack's hazel eyes with his green ones.

Grim nudged Jack in the side, shaking his head. "Jack, give it a rest," he said, trying to snap him out of his silent rage. "Just eat and be done with it."

Jack looked back at Muggs who had been listening, his elbow resting on the table. Muggs gave a half-smirk, raising his left hand and making an obscene gesture in the air, nodding to an oblivious Grim while staring at Jack.

Once again, Jack felt large hands on his shoulders. The hands spun him around roughly. Whalen glared down at him. "You lost one privilege, remember? And that's dinner," he said. "Let's go. Get up," he said, dragging Jack out of his seat by his upper arm.

Whalen slammed Jack into one of the corners of the wall, making a point for Jack to stand there until dinner was over.

Jack looked over at Muggs who winked at him. Jack turned back to the wall; his fists clenched.

Back in the dorm, the boys washed up in the washroom. It was slightly smaller than the old one. Fewer stalls, only two basins for bathing, one mirror.

Jack washed his face in the sink before being accidentally shoved by Cards who was trying to put Lion in a headlock for throwing water in his eyes.

Cards steadied Jack and then punched his arm apologetically. Jack smiled weakly at him.

"Pretty brave of you. Taking on Muggs like that," Someone said behind him.

Jack looked over from where the voice came from. Crazy gave him a soft grin. "There ain't many of us who would fight him."

Jack shrugged. "I didn't realize who I was messing with. It seems like Whalen plays favorites."

Crazy nodded slowly, his eyes drooping. "All I can say is Muggs is the only one of us who's truly got nothing left to lose. That's how come he'll do anything for his fix."

Jack grimaced, the look in his eyes reflecting confusion. "The hell does that mean?"

"The guards get bored really quick if they can break you," Crazy replied. "Muggs don't break. They find that…intriguing."

Jack nodded slowly.

A gaunt-like Calico passed them, coughing painfully into his sleeve instead of his hands as Doc had taught him. Jack watched as Calico walked off solemnly to his bunk, stunned at how corpse-like he looked.

"He's half-dead, poor bastard," Crazy mumbled.

"Why is even back here?" Jack wondered aloud. "Snyder can't get any work out of him."

Crazy shook his head. "He's money. That's all that matters to Snyder."

"Money?"

"The more kids Snyder can get in the Refuge," Crazy explained, "The more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder can stuff in his pockets. He doesn't care if they're alive, dead, or dying."

Muggs strolled in, searching for someone, his eyes landing on Jack. He made his way over, leaning against the wall. "Skipped dinner, huh? Whalen settled the score."

Jack turned back to washing his face in the sink. Grim, Tide, and Crazy stared at Muggs in unease, waiting to see what Jack would say. "I don't know about that," Jack said while scrubbing his face.

Muggs chuckled and shook his head. "Still think you're tough, huh?"

Jack turned off the faucet and wiped his face with a towel. "I don't think I'm anything," he said, brushing past Muggs. "I don't pretend to be something I'm ain't."

"Oh, and you think I am?" Muggs called after him.

Jack paused and turned to face him.

Muggs smirked. "You put up a good fight, kid," he said, coming close to speak to Jack so no one else could hear. "Maybe we could've worked together outside of this place."

"Maybe," Jack said in a low, determined voice. He took a step forward, uttering the rest in Muggs' ear. "I don't think I could be a low-life addict who trades little girls for cocaine."

Muggs seemed amused. "You're still an addict."

"You're right," Jack replied. "But at least I ain't blowing half the guards on this island for laudanum."

That struck the whole damn piano for Muggs. Jack noticed, for just a millisecond, how desperate and hurt the older boy looked. Muggs' hands shot out, gripping Jack around the throat, spinning Jack so he slammed into the wall.

He pushed his forearm against Jack's windpipe, punching him in the stomach with his other hand. "You keep talking and I'll rip out your goddamn tongue!" Muggs yelled.

"Let me go!" Jack wheezed against Muggs' death hold. "Muggs!"

Muggs released his grip on Jack, and the younger boy doubled over in pain, gripping his torso, and struggling for air.

"Hey fellas, Whalen's on his way up the stairs!" Atlas shouted into the washroom. "I'd scram if I were you!"

In an instant, all the boys hurried out of the washroom and into the dormitory.

"This ain't over, Muggs," Jack said in a hoarse voice.

Muggs turned around, the smirk gone. "It'll be over when you're dead."

Whalen walked into the dorm, blowing his whistle twice. The boys gathered in two lines, eyes to the ground, complete silence. Jack filed into place between Shakespeare and Marquette.

"Roll!" Whalen announced. "Alright you know the drill."

It was a new routine that Snyder had implemented.

Whalen walked down the two lines, and each time he passed a boy they would say their last name and then their first name.

Once that was through, Whalen nodded and twirled his club. "Bed. No talking."

No more tying down. Jack was grateful for that, at least.

As Whalen left, Jack settled into his own bed. He wasn't lying there for a minute before he heard someone muttering in the darkness.

He turned to his left, seeing No Name huddled in on the lower bunk beside him with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was talking to himself, incoherent to Jack, laughing a bit, sounding like he might cry, rocking slightly.

Jack sat up. "Hey, No Name," he said, getting the boy's attention after a few tries. No Name faced him, his eyes wide. "Who are you talking to?" Jack whispered.

"Nobody," No Name replied, barely mouthing the words.

"Try to get some sleep, okay?" Jack said.

Z sat up in bed. "Both of you, shut up," he hissed. "You want Whalen back up here?"

Jack sighed and pulled up the scratchy sheets. No Name stared over at Jack for a moment, and then went back to muttering.

Jack closed his eyes, trying to think of anything to take his mind off the day's events. A full meal. Sleeping in a clean, warm bed at the lodging house. The freedom to roam through the city. Sophie. His mother.

No, he decided. Those memories were too painful. Too gut-wrenching. Nightmarish images clouded his mind. Images of his mother crying as she realized he'd lost her medal. Her soul getting lost with it.

Sometime later, he shot up in bed, panting hard. He looked around the dark dormitory, frantically trying to catch his breath. Instinctively, he went to clasp the medal around his neck, only to find nothing but skin.

Quietly, he stepped out of bed and walked over to the small window on the door, looking out. He tried the handle. Unlocked.

Evidently, Whalen wasn't used to locking them in. Thank God for new rules.

Jack slowly opened the door and tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to be as silent as possible, avoiding creaky steps. He found his way blind to Snyder's office door, only to find that, too, was unlocked.

The office was dark, and neither the warden nor anyone else was around. Jack glanced around one last time before entering the office, closing the squeaky door shut behind him.

He could hear distant voices down the corridor in the conference room. One he recognized as Whalen's. Jack took a deep breath and hurried to the desk, rifling through unlocked drawers until he found it.

The small drawer with his medal. He picked it up, untangling it from the others, and inspected it to make sure it hadn't been broken. He kissed it, quietly apologizing to the ghost of his mother in his mind.

The office door creaked open, followed by the flood of lamp light, and Jack instantly turned around. Whalen's bulging eyes met Jack's. His hair was wet, as if he'd just bathed, and he had changed from his uniform to nightclothes.

Jack felt his heart sink out of his chest. How was he going to explain his way out of this?

Back in the quiet dormitory, some of the boys awoke to a wild yell. They roused, mumbling, wiping the sleep from their eyes. Another scream echoed from downstairs, followed by a loud bang. The words were unintelligible.

Recognizing the voice, Grim felt dizzy. "Oh, my God. Jack," he said, eyeing the younger boy's empty bunk.

He jumped out of bed, heading for the door. Tide grabbed his friend by the shoulders, restraining him. "Grim, stay out of it! For once, take your own advice!"

Grim struggled, tearing away from his friend's grasp. "Tide, he's just a kid!"

Doc stepped in Grim's way. "Tide's right. You go down there, and you'll get thrown in solitary," he said hastily, giving Tide time to grab Grim's arm again. "I'll go."

Doc was out of the dormitory and half-way down the stairs before anyone could protest. He followed the cries, stopping in the doorway of Snyder's office. Jack was wild, inconsolable, tears streaming down his face as Whalen smashed something with a hammer on Snyder's desk.

It was Jack's medal. It was crushed into pieces.

"Save your tears, boy!" Whalen was yelling. He continued hitting the remnants with the hammer. "It's for your own good!"

Jack collapsed to the floor, sinking to his knees as he cried. Doc was speechless from where he stood. He looked from Jack to Whalen in disbelief.

Whalen noticed Doc, dropping the hammer to the floor. "Seems like this one's having trouble following the rules," he said, nodding to the crumpled boy on the floor, his breathing ragged. "So far it's been two infractions."

Doc crossed threshold, crouching down next to Jack, pulling him to his chest and ruffling his hair. Jack collapsed against him, crying into his shirt, clutching his stomach as if he'd be sick.

"He'll be written up and thrown in solitary if he breaks a third rule," Whalen said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Get back to your dorm. Both of you."

He sidestepped past them, leaving a shell-shocked Doc to deal with the aftermath. He helped Jack out of the office, watching him slump to the floor once again. Doc sat beside him quietly, patting his back.

"I wanna die," Jack kept crying, clinging tightly to Doc's shirt. "I just wanna die."

Doc pulled Jack upright, facing him. He held Jack's face, bringing his forehead to his. "Hey, listen to me," Doc said, trying to meet Jack's eyes through the younger boy's endless outpouring of tears. "Don't say that. I can't help you if you don't want to go on. I don't want you dead. Grim doesn't want you dead. None of us do," he said, tilting his head, forcing Jack's eyes up. "Sophie doesn't want you dead."

"Sophie..." Jack echoed, his voice breaking. "I won't ever see her again."

"You can't say things like that," Doc said, sounding sterner than ever. "That's more contagious than any disease."

Jack nodded, falling against Doc's shoulder again, breaking into another fit of cries. The two sat there for a long time, neither of them speaking. There was nothing more to say.