Author's Note

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

Warning: Mentions of violence, mentions of tooth extraction

Love youuu 💗

HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897

Muggs woke up with a mouthful of pain the next morning, his jaw swollen and bruised. He stumbled to the washroom, cursing the whole way until he managed to duck his head under the faucet. With an agonized groan, he let the water wash over his mouth, spitting out the rest of the blood.

Alexei folded his arms in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "That don't look good, Muggs," he said flatly.

"Don't feel good either," Muggs grumbled, sticking a finger in his mouth to feel around and then yelping in pain. He pulled the finger out, coming back bloody. "I'm going to murder him. I'm going to murder him!"

"Who, Whalen?" Alexei scoffed. "That won't fix it."

"I need cocaine," Muggs said, whipping around to face Alexei, dried blood staining his jaw and lips. "Fuck, it hurts to talk."

"You need morphine," Alexei retorted, grimacing at the damage Whalen had done. "What's all the blood from?"

Muggs just dropped down to the sink again, rinsing his mouth out. He came back up, spitting the bloody water at his reflection in the mirror.

Alexei shook his head and turned away, heading back into the dormitory. He made his way to Doc's bed, waking the boy up. "Doc, you gotta help. It's Muggs."

"What's wrong with him?" Doc mumbled, squinting in the early sunlight.

"Whalen hurt him. Real bad," Alexei said, pointing to his own mouth. "Punched him here twice. I think he broke his jaw."

Doc sighed, pushing back his blanket. "Alright, I'll take a look," he said and got up, following Alexei to the washroom.

Muggs was holding his jaw, chuckling painfully when he saw Doc. "The fuck are you going to do?"

"You need help. You don't gotta suffer," Alexei said firmly.

"Muggs, I need to look," Doc said, holding up his hands and slowly stepping forward.

Alexei nodded, and Muggs sighed and then winced from the sharp jolt through his mouth. He sat down on an overturned basin, poking around the inside with his tongue.

Doc cleaned his hands in the sink and tilted Muggs' head back gently, urging him to open his mouth. Muggs tried to comply, groaning from the discomfort.

He felt along Muggs' jaw as delicately as he could. "Your jaw is very swollen," he noted. "Can you breathe okay?"

Muggs nodded, wincing again.

Doc moved his hand downward to Muggs' neck. "Can you feel my hands?"

"Yeah."

Moving his hand up past the jaw, to Muggs' cheeks, Doc repeated, "What about here, can you feel that?"

"Yeah, that, too."

Doc nodded, moving back to the jaw. "That's good."

"What are you doing?" Alexei asked, curiously watching his movements.

"I'm feeling for a broken bone," Doc replied without stopping. "And so far, nothing feels fractured or broken. But he's badly bruised and looks like he's lost some blood…in here…" Doc tried to look inside Muggs' mouth. "Can you open wider, please? I'll be quick."

With a distressed expression, Muggs tried to unlock his jaw further.

Doc peered in, looking past the bloody mess. He moved his finger inside Muggs' mouth, narrating as he went.

"I'm just feeling for a cut or an abrasion," Doc explained. "If your jaw isn't broken, then…" Doc froze, hitting something, making Muggs howl in agony.

"Alexei, is the door unlocked?" Doc asked, pulling out his bloodied finger.

Alexei ducked into the dormitory to check. He rushed back with a nod.

"Good," Doc said, washing his hand in the sink again. "Okay, here's what I want you to do. Take someone with you down to the factory. Go to the tool cabinet and get me some pliers. The cleanest ones you can find."

"What the hell are you going to do with those?" Muggs spat, giving Doc a wide-eyed stare.

"Just go," Doc said to Alexei.

In the meantime, Doc got a washcloth, running it under cold water. He had Muggs hold it against the bruised jaw. "That'll numb it. I'm sorry I don't have anything else."

Minutes later, Alexei and Crazy returned, pliers secured.

Doc took the pliers and submerged them in hot water, urging Muggs to keep holding the makeshift compress to his jaw. "Your lower back molar is half-shattered. Whalen did most of the damage, but I'm sure all the cocaine had a hand in it as well," Doc explained to Muggs' annoyance. "If I don't remove it, it'll get infected. And that will be a lot worse than what you've got now."

"Shit," Crazy muttered, looking from Doc to Muggs.

A few of the others gathered in the doorway curiously. "What's happening?" Rails asked.

Calico walked in behind him, holding the rabbit.

"Doc's taking Muggs' teeth out," Crazy said.

"Holy shit," Lion murmured, frowning. "All of them?"

Doc rolled his eyes. "No. Just the lower back molar. It won't be noticeable," he said, giving Muggs a look of reassurance. "And you'll be able to talk and eat just fine."

"Yeah, Muggs," Z smirked, leaning against the wall with Fleet. "Maybe the tooth fairy will come and give you cocaine for being so good."

Even Grim couldn't conceal his smile at the joke.

Muggs shot Z a death glare, about to stand up when Alexei forced him back down, muttering angrily in Russian.

"I'll do the pulling," Doc said, taking the more sanitized pliers, and walking toward Muggs. "Is that okay?"

"We call you 'Doc' for a reason, right?" Muggs mumbled, trying to maintain his indifferent appearance, but Doc could see the way he dug his nails into the opposite fist in anticipation.

"Right," Doc replied, taking the cold cloth from Muggs' hand, and setting it aside. "Is it numb now?"

Muggs nodded.

"Okay." Doc position the pliers in one hand, steadying himself with the other hand on the back of Muggs' head. "Lower back molar. I need you to open wide. Gravity will be against us, so I'll have to pull hard. But I'll go as fast as I can. You ready?"

Muggs gave him a distrustful look. "No," he breathed.

Cards covered his ears in expectation of a scream. A few other boys turned away. Calico shielded the rabbit's eyes with his other hand.

"Alright," Doc whispered, moving the pliers in as Muggs opened his mouth wider. "I'll be gentle. I'm just going to grab, twist, and pull."

Muggs pressed his eyes shut, holding out his left hand blindly, fishing for something to grab on to. Alexei took his friend's hand and Muggs' squeezed it tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Doc twisted his wrist, latching onto the broken tooth and wrenched it. Then he began to pull, the muscles in his forearm constricting. Muggs groaned loudly, spit and blood spilling out. He dug his heel into the floor.

Alexei looked like was going to be sick at the sound of the tooth uprooting – the crack and crunch increasing as Doc pulled. Muggs' muffled screams echoed through the washroom, bringing more boys inside to see what was happening.

Suddenly the tooth gave way, and Doc yanked it out, removing the pliers with the bloodied molar in its grasp. Muggs doubled over with a yell, gasping for air, spitting out blood.

Alexei patted his back, looking as though he might faint.

"It's okay, it's okay," Doc said quickly, grabbing the cold cloth and placing it back on Muggs' jaw, urging the older boy to keep it in place. "You're done. You did great."

"Oh, Jesus," Muggs whimpered, staring at the extracted tooth. "You got anything? For the pain?"

Doc sighed, shaking his head. "It'll be sore for the rest of the week, probably. Maybe longer. Just keep it cold with the cloth. Chew on the other side. Sleep on the other side. And don't talk unless you have to."

"Is that your way of getting me to shut up?" Muggs asked, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"No," Doc said, washing his hands again. "That's my goddamn medical opinion. So do it."

Dr. Fuller was almost startled out of his seat when the door to his office flung open without a knock. In marched a scowling guard, dragging a bewildered and beaten-looking Jack behind him. Fuller stared at Jack in shock, pushing aside his papers and standing up immediately.

"My God," Fuller mumbled, coming around to the front of his desk.

Jack managed to wrench his arm out of the guard's grasp.

"Why does this boy look like he's been on the front lines of Antietam?" Fuller practically yelled at the guard, inspecting Jack's bruises.

"Solitary confinement's no room at the Waldorf," the guard replied matter of fact before leaving.

Fuller helped Jack into the seat opposite his desk. "Jack, I wasn't informed you were down there," he said, sounding apologetic. His eyes displayed a range of regret as he offered Jack a croissant off his breakfast plate. "Good lord, Jack. You look…well…to put it bluntly, you look like hell, if you'll excuse my saying so."

"I'm okay," Jack managed in a monotone voice, accepting the bread. "Thanks."

"Whalen wants to double your time," Fuller huffed, his shoulders heaving in despair. "I don't understand, Jack. Why don't you enlighten me?"

Jack stared up at the doctor through his bruised and swollen eyes, shrugging. "Didn't Mr. Whalen send you his report?"

"Yes, I have his report. But that's his story. I want to hear your side of it. In your own words," Fuller insisted, dragging up another chair and sitting directly across from Jack.

"My side of the story don't matter," Jack said, sounding a little more bitter than he'd meant to. "Mr. Whalen's report is the final word. There are rules. Obedience, order, and discipline. Ain't that the motto of this place?"

"Well, I've got my own set of rules, Jack. To do no harm," Fuller said, leaning close. "I'm lodging an official complaint to the Children's Aid Society – that's the board in charge of this institution. And I will also be informing Commissioner Roosevelt."

Jack shook his head in disbelief, looking away.

"This is important. And it will become news," Fuller went on, taking Jack's hand encouragingly. "Warden Snyder will definitely contradict my word. So, I will need you as my witness. Tell the truth about how you and the others are mistreated. Talk about how you've been brutalized and neglected here."

Warden Snyder listened outside the door, eyeing his pocket watch.

Jack yanked his hand away, standing up. "I ain't no snitch," he said, walking away. "You'll get fired, and what will the rest of us get? Less food? More time? More beatings?"

"Jack," Fuller sighed, rising to his feet. "I'll stand by you. I wouldn't let anything happen to you or the other boys. But I cannot do it without help. I will need reasonable proof. Eyewitness accounts. Evidence to back up my claim. I need you, Jack."

"Dr. Fuller, I get it," the boy said shakily, staring at the floor. "You're a good person. But from where I'm standing, you ain't done much to help. You're all bluff, no action. And some of us are getting real desperate for action."

Fuller's expression fell, his eyes growing slightly alarmed.

"I gotta go," Jack mumbled, finally looking up at the man before crossing the room.

Snyder quickly turned the corner, moving down the hallway to his office just as Jack opened the door.