Author's Note

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

Warning: Mentions of violence, mentions of sexual coercion (non-explicit), nothing graphic aside from kissing.

Love youuu 💗

HOUSE OF REFUGE 1897

The next afternoon, all the boys in Ward 33 were assigned to hard labor outside. The wind was dense, blowing snow in all directions it seemed. Jack could barely see, blinded by the sharp blizzard as he shoveled.

He looked at the ferry boat, still docked in its place on the icy river, pieces of ice floating on the surface. At half-twelve on the dot, Mrs. Anderson emerged with her tray of hot beverages, offering one to Mr. Whalen and the guards, and then to the ferry captain. Again, Mrs. Anderson met his eyes, smiling once again.

Jack looked down at his shovel, jamming it against the icy pavement.

"At least they let you out of solitary this morning," Marquette said to him, breaking up the snow with a few hard jabs. "Most stay in there for longer."

"Whalen's heart is cold," Cards added.

Jack met Muggs' poisonous glare from across the yard as he punctured a patch of ice, cracking it below his feet.

Tide followed Jack's gaze. "I ain't leaving this place until he breaks," he muttered.

Grim shook his head, exhaling. "You can't break what's already broken, Tide," he said, much to Jack's confusion.

"I need a hammer to break this ice," Z said in exasperation, hitting his shovel against the pavement.

Cards dug his shovel into the snow. "God, I wish I were hammered right now."

A few of the others laughed, muttering their agreement.

Jack straightened, stretching the sore muscles in his back and shoulders. As he did so, he looked again toward the ferry. Mrs. Anderson was still watching him, pulling her woolen coat tighter around herself as she drank her coffee. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her gloved hand, her lips curling into a smirk.

"I'm shivering so bad, I feel like I'm being electrocuted," Z said.

"Don't give 'em the satisfaction," Crazy told him, wiping his forehead.

River and a few others had noticed Jack staring at Mrs. Anderson. River banged his shovel against Jack's to get his attention. "Careful, kid. Don't wanna be on her list."

Lion shrugged. "She wasn't so bad the first time. Tighter than a nun. Guess Mr. Anderson can't get it up no more," he snickered.

Atlas rolled his eyes. "Since Snyder moved her out of our ward, I bet her pussy's got cobwebs."

The others laughed, leaving Jack even more confused until he remembered what Grim had told him weeks ago.

"How come I never seen her husband?" Jack asked Fleet.

Fleet gave Jack a funny look, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "He's standing right next to her," he said, nodding to the captain. "That's him."

"Does he live here, too?" Jack asked.

"He lives in the city," Fleet said. "He comes and goes a lot, though. Bringing us back and forth, running errands, whatever Snyder needs. He's alright, I guess. Harmless. Does whatever his wife tells him to do."

"And the boat stays here overnight?"

"Nah, he docks it in the harbor, across the river," Fleet explained. "Comes back every morning."

Jack nodded, glancing back over his shoulder at the couple. The captain was oblivious, munching on a croissant and reading the newspaper. Mrs. Anderson returned Jack's stare before picking up the tray again and carrying it over to the guards.

A shrill whistle erupted through the blowing wind. "Lunch!" A guard yelled, ushering the boys over. "Ten minutes."

The others dropped their shovels, staggering to line up, catching their breath.

Immediately, Whalen grabbed Jack by the arm, dragging him out of line. "No lunch for you," he said gruffly, yanking the boy back to where he left his shovel. "I've decided you'll be fasting for today. Back to work," he said, shoving Jack.

Jack stumbled, staring back at him in disbelief.

The other boys watched, their stunned expressions saying it all.

"And if any of you get smart or spread rumors to Dr. Fuller, I will make sure you are in no position to do so again," Whalen said to them before walking off.

"Okay, let's go," the guard announced, ushering the line forward. "This ain't a tea party."

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Rails mumbled.

Jack reluctantly bent down, grabbing his shovel, his back aching, his frozen fingers numb. He tried to dig into the snow, shoveling it back, clear the path. But his arms were shaking too much to lift anything.

With one final glance toward Mrs. Anderson, Jack took a deep breath in resignment, and closed his eyes, letting himself fall to the ground much like Calico had done yesterday.

"Jack!" Grim and several boys and guards ran over, surrounding Jack's crumpled frame, checking to see if he was okay.

"Get back!" Whalen said, pushing his way through the crowd. "Get back, I said! Get him inside! And not one word out of any of you! Do you hear me?"

A large guard slung Jack's limp body over his shoulder, moving the boy toward the front entrance. Mrs. Anderson hurried to open front door, putting a blanket over Jack's shivering body as the guard carried him upstairs to his dormitory.

The guard unceremoniously dumped Jack onto his bed, brushing his hands off.

Mrs. Anderson clicked her tongue. "Gently," she chastised him, shaking her head. She drew the blankets up over Jack, ruffling back his hair.

The guard shrugged and crossed the floor, leaving the dormitory to get back to his post.

"Your poor, poor dear," Mrs. Anderson cooed, feeling Jack's cold, rose-colored face with her warm hands. "If you need anything, you just ask me, okay? My room is on the first floor of the east wing, with the flower basket outside the door."

She patted his hand and then left, leaving Jack alone. He smirked to himself. A plan began to come together in his mind. One that sounded crazy in hindsight, but it was all Jack had. And it just might work if he played it right. With any luck, he'd be out of there that night.

Jack waited until everyone was dead asleep before he put his plan into motion.

He crept out of bed and got dressed in the dark, glancing out the window at the moonlit sky and the snow coming down.

Calico's rabbit was on the floor, making a few clicking noises, now alert to Jack's movements. He leaned over and scooped up the tiny thing, placing it beside Calico's sleeping form.

Lion cracked an eye open, watching Jack tiptoe across the floorboards. He sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Jack?" He whispered.

Jack froze, meeting his eyes and put a finger to his lips, indicating for Lion to be quiet. Lion, not quite understanding what was happening, nodded and returned the gesture, figuring Jack was on another mission to get laudanum.

"What are you doing?" Lion whispered.

"I'm getting out of here," Jack replied, pulling on his boots. "My sister needs me."

"What if you get caught?"

"I…" Jack paused, pulling the boot laces tight. "I don't know."

"I do," Lion said, giving Jack a quick smile. "I'll distract them. You go on my signal."

Jack stared back at him, unsure of what to say. Gratefully, he nodded, hurrying into the shadows near the door as Lion shooed him away.

Without another warning, Lion began wailing, loudly like a wounded animal. He clutched his chest, doubling over in bed, still shouting and moaning. "It hurts!" He was yelling. "I can't breathe!"

The others woke up, wild-eyed, sitting up in bed to identify the noise.

In an instant, Doc had rushed over to Lion, trying to assess what was wrong. "Cool it, the kid's escaping," Lion muttered to Doc, cluing in the others as well.

Lion continued screaming as a confused Doc slowly backed away, murmuring something to Grim.

The door flew open, almost crushing Jack who hid behind it. Whalen barged in, looking frantic and angered all at once. "What happened?" He shouted, shining his lamp into the dormitory.

Lion kept feigning cries. "I can't breathe!" He mustered up a few fake coughs, painfully grabbing at his sides. "I think I got tuberculosis."

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me—" Calico was cut off when Grim quickly wrapped a hand around his mouth and then apologized, indicating with a nod toward Jack. Calico squinted in the darkness, making out Jack's outline halfway behind the door.

Whalen set the lamp down on a small table and furiously made his way over to Lion's bunk. Lion was really selling it now, coughing and crying, rolling around in bed.

"Hold it!" Whalen shouted, crossing the room. "Straighten up!" He shook Lion, trying to get him to stop moving.

Jack pressed himself deeper into the corner, shooting Tide a look of desperation.

Tide seemed to get it, giving him a slow nod in return. He doubled over, breaking into a fit of coughs. "Jesus Christ, I think I've got it, too!" He cried out, gasping for air.

Atlas fell out of his bunk, coughing, cursing in Italian. A guard rushed in to help keep order. He and Whalen appeared slightly reluctant to go near the allegedly sick inmates.

"Fetch Dr. Fuller and get this under control immediately!" Whalen ordered to the guard.

Muggs rolled his eyes and hopped off his bunk, pushing past a few boys and discretely glancing out the window through the bars. He noticed the captain making his way out to the ferry, about to take off for the night. Quick thinking as always, Muggs put the pieces together. "That kid's an idiot," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"Whalen's really buying this?" Alexei whispered to him.

"Duane Street just got out," Muggs replied, nodding out the window.

"Seriously?"

"He ain't gonna make it far. How much you wanna bet he drowns?"

Alexei shook his hand at the wager. "You're on. Say breakfast?"

"You ain't going to eat yours anyway," Muggs laughed.

Whalen eyed him, marching over, and grabbing Muggs by his shirt. "What, you think this is a game, Tracey? Laughing when I might have an outbreak of tuberculosis in this dormitory?" He wound his fist back and punched Muggs hard in the mouth twice, emitting a sickening crack from somewhere in the boy's jaw.

Blood dripped out of the corner of Muggs' lips, and he put a hand to the side of his face, wincing. Whalen left him sputtering, moving to quiet the other boys down. Muggs exchanged an alarmed look with Alexei. Something wasn't right.

"Want me to get Doc?" Alexei whispered, his eyes wide.

Muggs shook his head, holding his jaw tightly, and then groaning from the sharp pain in his mouth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, more blood pouring from his mouth.

Jack was already out of the dormitory and down the staircase before his fear got the better of him. He made it all the way out one of the side doors to the staff's apartment wing, hiding in the shadows as a guard passed by him in the corridor.

Jack pressed himself up against the wall, holding his breath until the guard was out of sight. He found Mrs. Anderson's door easily, almost tripping over the flowerpot. If all went well, she would convince her husband to let him on the boat and get across the river to freedom.

Shakily, Jack knocked at the door, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

A few moments later, Mrs. Anderson opened the door a crack, dressed in her white nightgown, her long hair loose from the updo she wore it in. "Oh, heavens," she said, a bit astonished to see him there. "Well, come in before they see you."

Jack slowly entered the large room, noticing a small kitchenette and parlor, and a bedroom toward the back. Mrs. Anderson lit several candles, brightening the room to reveal elegant furniture. Jack couldn't believe her salary allowed for all this.

"Come, sit down, poor dear," Mrs. Anderson guided Jack to the sofa. "You're all frightened."

Jack fought to push away his fear, plastering on a polite smile as he sat down beside her. It took everything in his power not to get up and run away. But he knew he needed her for his plan to work.

Steadily, he rested a hand on her knee, brushing his fingers along the soft fabric. "I've never done something like this before," he lied, managing to keep his voice even and gentle. He strained to remember how Muggs had acted when he persuaded the nurse to get him cocaine. How had he done that so easily?

Mrs. Anderson looked a bit surprised at his boldness, but then collected herself, breaking into a soft smile. "I'll have to teach you. I'm not used to inexperience," she replied, leaning back.

Jack nodded, his stomach tying itself into a thousand little knots. Everything in his head was telling him to drop the act and get out of there. This wasn't worth it. But all he could think about was Sophie, cold and starving and alone – susceptible to much worse.

"Would you like something to drink?" Mrs. Anderson went on. "I have a bit of wine in the cupboard. It might relax you."

Jack shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers. "I think I'd relax a lot more if we did this somewhere else. Being in here…well, someone could walk in any second." He hoped she'd buy it. "Sure, there are plenty of flophouses in the city."

"I suppose we could take our time in one of those," the woman replied.

"I'm a fast learner. I could make you feel real good," Jack whispered, echoing Muggs' words.

Mrs. Anderson chuckled. "You could make me feel good right here. Where we don't have to pay for a room."

Jack said nothing, mentally readjusting the plan. If she wouldn't agree to take him across the river, maybe if he made her more agreeable, she'd allow him to sneak on board anyway.

He slid his hand under her dress, biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from breaking away. He tried to imagine it was all just a nightmare, and if he got through it, he could see Sophie again.

She gasped slightly as his cold fingers brushed along her thigh.

"I think you lied to me," She said, readjusting her legs. "I think you have done this before."

Jack shrugged. "I've been with a girl once, before I got sent here," he said, which wasn't a lie.

She was his age, some Bowery skirt, and they were both hopped up on rancid whiskey from Tibby's. She was just as naive, and the whole encounter had been awkward and quick, and nothing at all like Jack had imagined. But it wasn't altogether unpleasant, and they enjoyed each other's company as friends.

This, however, was different. Jack didn't feel anything but contempt and disgust for Mrs. Anderson, but she was a means to an end.

"You've been with a girl," Mrs. Anderson nodded, "but you've never been with a woman." She pulled up the hem of her nightgown further, up to her bare thighs.

Jack felt the knot in his stomach twist again. He wanted out. He wanted out now. But he had to play along. "Mm-hm," he managed, sounding a bit unsure, his hand still resting on her upper thigh.

She smiled, something changing in her eyes. "Stick out your tongue."

Jack hesitantly opened his mouth, pushing his tongue out a little. He flinched as she reached out and touched it, dragging her fingers down his mouth, hooking them into his lip and letting them fall down his chin. Her nails scratched down the front of his shirt, giving Jack uneasy chills.

He struggled to maintain his poker face, not wanting to let on how much he wanted to vomit. Swallowing his dread, Jack squeezed her thigh and threw himself forward, sealing his mouth on top of hers. He was cursing over and over in his head, disassociating from the situation, pretending this wasn't him.

She leaned against the other side of the sofa, with Jack moving on top of her, raking his hands through her hair as he'd seen Muggs do with that nurse – pushing down the awful pit in his stomach.

Jack moved his hand down to unbutton his trousers, but Mrs. Anderson stopped him. "No, not tonight," she said, stroking his face. "Why don't we do it the French way?"

Jack scrunched his eyebrows, hovering over her, breathless. "Huh?"

"Silly boy," she laughed, brushing back the hair that fell in her face. "I want you to use your tongue. On me," she explained, lifting her dress higher.

Everything in Jack screamed otherwise. He pulled away, sitting back on the sofa. He hadn't done something like that before, and the thought of doing it to her made him nauseous.

"Come on, we don't have much time," she urged, sliding her stockings off.

Jack took a deep breath. "I ain't getting back in the dormitory," he said, deciding it was now or never to make a deal. "You have to get your husband to take me across the river. Tonight."

Mrs. Anderson stared at him for a moment against the soft glow of candlelight. She reached out, stroking his face. "Of course," she said, breaking into a knowing smile. "Anything you want."

"Will you cover for me?" Jack asked, dodging away as she went to kiss him. "Do you promise?"

Mrs. Anderson nodded. "I promise," she whispered, catching his lips again with hers.

Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was on his way to freedom, to seeing his sister again.

Bracing himself, Jack knelt onto the floor, between her legs, pushing her nightgown the rest of the way up – regretting that he hadn't asked for laudanum as well.

Back in Ward 33, Dr. Fuller closed his medical kit, making his way over to a pacing Whalen.

"Tuberculosis wouldn't manifest itself out of nowhere with symptoms this late in its stage," Fuller said, looking back at the boys in their beds. "I can't find the source of the pain. Could be psycho somatic. Sleep deprivation. Dehydration. Malnutrition. A number of things."

"So, they're not contagious?" Whalen asked.

Fuller shook his head. "I wouldn't say so, no. What they need is rest. And a good breakfast tomorrow," he said, heading for the door. "Come and get me if they get worse. Though I suspect they'll be better by morning."

After he and Whalen left the quiet dorm, Lion and Grim snuck out of their bunks and over to the window. A few others gathered behind them, trying to see out.

"Jack better be on it," Lion said, watching as the ferry pulled away from the island, powering across the river for the night.

"Godspeed, kid," Tide mumbled, his hand wrapped around one of the bars.

Mere seconds later, a knock came at Mrs. Anderson's door, jolting the two of them. Mrs. Anderson hushed Jack, pushing him away before anything further could happen. She stood to straighten her nightgown, fixing her hair, and indicated for Jack to hide under her bed.

Jack's heart was pounding as he scampered under the large bed, biting his knuckle to keep from making a sound.

Calmly, the matron strolled to the door with a candle, opening it. Jack could make out a guard's voice and bulky figure, and then a few seconds of silence. Mrs. Anderson was giggling softly, planting kisses on his neck as he embraced her. Jack assumed she was having an affair with him.

"I've been waiting for you, my love," Mrs. Anderson chuckled, playing with his uniform buttons.

"That so?" The guard replied, squeezing her tightly.

She leaned in, whispering something in his ear. "I'm awfully frightened," she said audibly. "Can you take care of it?"

Jack's nerves turned to panic as he watched the guard's boots make their way over to the bedroom, stomping feverishly, shaking the paintings on the wall.

Praying quietly, Jack closed his eyes tight, trying to make himself invisible.

His world came crashing down around him when the duvet was yanked aside, and the guard was peering under the bed straight at him. "Gotcha," he said, dragging Jack out easily.

A wave of fear and adrenaline surged through Jack like a lightning strike. "You bitch!" He yelled, glaring at Mrs. Anderson as she pretended to be scandalized by the door. "You evil, lying bitch!"

He managed to break free of the guard's hold on him, leaping over the sofa and out the door, knocking over the flowerpot and shattering it as he ran.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!" The guard shouted after him as he gave chase. "Come here, boy!"

A few blows of the whistle, and more guards spilled out into the corridor, watching Jack sprint past them – almost in shock, as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Jack threw open the front door, running as fast as he could down the snow-covered yard, all the way to the fence. The gate was locked, and no amount of pulling would open it. He was screaming, tears springing to his eyes as he saw the ferry moving away in the distance toward the glow of the city.

"No!" He cried, climbing onto the sturdy fence, shaking it. "No! Come back!"

The guards had caught up to him now, pulling him off the fence forcefully, dragging him away kicking and screaming.

A loud siren began blaring from one of the towers, alerting Whalen and the other inmates about the escape attempt.

The boys in Ward 33 immediately jumped out of bed, making their way to the barred windows.

The sight of the guards lugging Jack away from the fence and into the building broke everyone's spirits at once.

"Oh my God," Grim kept repeating, clutching the bars tightly.

"He should've been on that boat half an hour ago! What was he thinking?" Tide yelled, hitting the bars angrily as he turned away.

Whalen greeted Jack outside, a smirk on his face as he twirled his club from hand to hand.

Jack kept screaming and struggling in protest as he was hauled back down to the solitary confinement block. Whalen left him in the same one as the night prior, after roughing him up.

Whalen slammed the door shut. "I recommend that Snyder double his time again. A year and a half," he said to the other guard, locking the cell.

"And the others?" The guard asked, following Whalen down the hall and up the stairs. "They must've known."

Whalen considered this, realizing they had faked the illness. "Well, if they're as sick as they say, they shouldn't have a problem going without meals for the rest of the week."

Jack was left on the ground in the dark cell, half-crying, half-wheezing as he curled into himself, hugging his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sophie. I tried. I fucking tried."