Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️
HOUSE OF REFUGE – JANUARY 1897
"Jack," Kloppman's voice was just over a whisper as he stared at the young man he'd watched grow up. "Jack, what have they done to you?"
Jack didn't say anything.
"To all of you," Kloppman said, looking around at the battered faces, the emaciated bodies. "My God."
They had been crammed into five cells, with three in each. Grim and Tide had been shoved in a cell on the other side, down the narrower hall – to stop them from further corruption of the other inmates.
Jack's own cell included Alexei and No Name.
Kloppman's expression was tight and his eyes looked straight at Jack as the boy wrapped his hands around the bars, unable to hide his disbelief.
"Are you sick?" Kloppman said, worry in his voice.
"I'm just tired," Jack said, offering Kloppman brief eye contact before looking down again. He couldn't look the old man in the eyes.
Kloppman nodded and reached out his hands to touch Jack's. He told Jack he looked half-dead and wondered if he was getting enough to eat. Jack reported they only get one meal a day, as part of their punishment. That diet had begun to drive him mad. Kloppman asked him about the riot and told Jack what story the papers were running with.
Jack didn't speak much. He wanted to tell Kloppman everything, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was afraid of Snyder finding out. He was ashamed and embarrassed. He felt like he'd brought all this on himself. He didn't want anyone to know the things he'd done for laudanum. Jack loved Kloppman, but he couldn't bear the thought of him knowing the truth. Couldn't bear the thought of Sophie knowing the truth, either.
Jack was afraid if he let his guard down and allowed himself to open – be vulnerable – then the mask would slip, and they'd see how damaged he was on the inside.
"Jack, is there anything I can do?" Kloppman asked, leaning in close. "Anyone I can talk to?"
Jack sniffled, staring emptily at the ground. In a raspy voice, he replied with, "Why are you asking me?"
"What?'
Jack raised his grime-covered, bruised face – tears cutting paths through the dirt. He looked at Kloppman and was reminded of everything he'd left behind on the outside. Everything he'd loved. "You're the grownup. You oughta know what to do. Don't ask me."
Jack needed to keep himself together. He willed himself not to breakdown in front of Kloppman. That would be too painful.
Kloppman paused, hearing the hurt in Jack's voice, the strain. "I stopped over in potter's field on the way over here," he told him. "To visit an old friend. Tommy."
"Ain't all of your friends dead?" Jack asked. It sounded meaner than he'd meant for it to be, but Kloppman didn't seem fazed.
"As it happens, I was visiting his grave," Kloppman answered, smiling slightly.
"How'd he die?" Jack asked.
"He was hanged in the Tombs," Kloppman said. "He used to rob the ships that would come into the harbor. He shot and killed a man on one of those raids."
"And you knew him?"
"He was the best friend I ever had," Kloppman said. "We met when we were no more than ten. Instant friends. Used to sell papers together."
Kloppman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Jack never knew about Kloppman's past. Never knew about his troubled youth as a street arab with a quick fuse and a lengthy rap sheet. But it made sense. That's why Kloppman had always stuck up for the kids he looked after.
"Tommy and I got dragged up here when we were about your age," Kloppman said, his voice softer, his eyes focused on Jack. "It was hell. Just like it's been for you. I thought maybe this place would've changed since I've been here, but I guess not. These walls broke Tommy. Changed him forever. Made him think there wasn't anything more to life. That he was no better than what they said he was. A criminal without a chance of mercy."
Jack glared away from him, battling the urge to cry, thankful that there was some adult who loved him, who understood, and who would respect Jack's wish to bury it down. He was relieved that someone had turned out to be Kloppman.
It was also a relief to know the Refuge hadn't broken or changed the man for the worst, but that in some way, Kloppman had gotten through it. Jack knew that if he could get out of the Refuge alive, if he could just keep going, then he'd have the chance to do the same. Maybe he'd always be plagued with reminders, just like he was sure Kloppman had his own nightmares. But Jack could live with hard reminders. Perhaps the other boys could, too. All they needed was to find the courage Kloppman found.
"Don't let this place break you, Jack," Kloppman told him, his hand squeezing Jack's through the bars. "Don't let it dictate your worth. And don't let those guards get in your head. Make you think you're a bad person."
"How do I do that?" Jack asked. "By thanking them when they beat me?"
"Heavens, no," Kloppman said, suppressing his chuckle. "I'm not suggesting your grovel your way out of here."
"Then how?" Jack asked.
Kloppman's voice lowered. "You keep your head up. And you keep fighting. Inside as well as out. You don't want to end up like my friend."
Jack squeezed Kloppman's hand before releasing it. He wished he could give the old man a proper hug. He didn't want him to leave. For a moment, Jack felt hopeful again. He was so grateful for Kloppman's reassurance, relieved that the old man had their backs.
Kloppman took a few steps back, peering into the other cells. "Are all you boys on your own?" He asked.
A few nodded, while others didn't give much of a reaction. He stared further into Jack's cell, and at the two boys he shared it with. No Name was completely checked out, staring at the wall. Alexei had pulled his knees to his chest with his head hidden in his arms.
"Alexei?" Kloppman squinted further into Jack's cell. "Is that you, my boy?"
The Russian boy slowly stared up at the superintendent from his place on the ground, huddled in a corner.
"It's me, Mr. Kloppman," the man said upon Alexei's blank expression. In all honesty, Kloppman was surprised Alexei was still alive. After he'd disappeared from the lodging house, Kloppman hadn't put much stock in the boy's chances given his habits. "I…well, it's been a long time."
Alexei studied Kloppman, knowing exactly who he was. He said nothing, simply giving the old man a disinterested scowl.
Kloppman's smile fell, and he nodded sadly. "I understand," he replied. "Well, I suppose I'd better leave before the warden gets wise."
Before he made the long walk back, he stopped by Jack's cell once again. "I'll come back as soon as I can, and we will get through this together," he assured Jack. "In the meantime, remember what I said."
Jack nodded. "Kloppman?"
"Yes?"
Jack swallowed. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he'd start crying. He sealed his mouth shut, holding back the tears. Then he whispered, just loud enough for the old man to hear, "I…I love…" He sniffled, trying again. "I love…"
"I love you, too, son," Kloppman replied quietly, giving him one last, long look.
Once he was gone, Jack lingered near the bars, staring toward the door at the end of hall.
He couldn't hold back anymore. His shoulders began to shake as he cried, and he felt the breath leaving his lungs. No sound was coming out. It was like Jack was drowning, like the air was too thick to swallow.
"Jack," Alexei said from the floor behind him. "You okay, kid?"
Jack shook his head frantically, trying to breathe. "I…I can't breathe," he managed. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably, his body trembling.
"Hey." There was a rattling of chains as Alexei stood up, coming over to Jack, and turning him from the bars. But Jack wouldn't let go. His fists were wrapped tightly.
Alexei looked at Jack's grip, reaching out his shackled hands and gently yet firmly prying Jack's hands away. Jack just stared back at him, shuddering, eyes bloodshot with tears.
For his own part, Alexei didn't look much better. "Jack," Alexei repeated, taking Jack by the forearms. "You look at me now. Okay? And you listen, yes?"
Jack continued hyperventilating – his eyes fearful.
"Are you listening?" Alexei asked in his thick accent.
With some effort, Jack nodded as beads of sweat gathered on his forehead despite how cold the cell was.
"You do as I do, yes?" Alexei said, and then demonstrated taking a deep breath, holding it, and exhaling slowly.
Jack struggled to do so. For once, Alexei didn't look distant or empty. In fact, he looked accustomed to this reaction.
"In like this," Alexei advised, taking a deep breath, and then breathing out. "And out like that. You try. Like me."
Jack took in a shaky breath, and then began coughing, choking over his own tears. He doubled over, dry heaving in the corner. It was all too much. It all needed to stop. Everything needed to slow down.
"Jack, are you okay?" Cards called from the cell across from him. He and Marquette had looked over, now concerned for their younger friend. Z, who was also in their cell, appeared to be asleep.
Jack had dropped to his knees, feeling as devastated as he did the night Whalen smashed his medal. It was all too reminiscent.
Alexei followed him down, holding Jack's face in his hands. He locked eyes with Jack and kept demonstrating how to breathe. "Jack, I'm right here," Alexei reminded him, uncharacteristically kind and soothing. "You take one deep breath for me?"
Jack's eyes were unwilling to focus at first. Finally, they settled on Alexei's. He watched Alexei breathe deeply, and tried to mimic it, but instead it felt like he was choking. "I…c-can't…" Jack cried, gasping in between each word, breaking down into tears.
"Okay," Alexei nodded, looking determined as ever. "Then we sit here until you can."
Some of the other boys were calling to ask if Jack was okay, straining to see what was happening.
Alexei ignored them, concentrating on getting Jack breathing again. He blew softly on the younger boy's face – his breath hitting the bridge of Jack's nose and forehead and eyes. He did this a few more times, moving his hands to hold Jack's wrists over the shackles.
Then he gestured for Jack to do the same to him.
Jack closed his eyes, gathering up enough lung power to blow into Alexei's face, finally exhaling evenly.
Alexei encouraged him to keep going, nodding, and keeping Jack's eyes on him. "Yes, just like that. Keep going. You're doing good, мой друг. Two more."
Raggedly, Jack repeated the action two more times as the tears continued to fall. Alexei went back to modeling deep breathing, and Jack was able to follow along before he stopped altogether. He stared back at Alexei in complete desolation, shaking his head.
They sat there for a moment – the laudanum addict fighting desperately to breathe as the opium addict did.
Everything Jack had bottled up, all the emotions he'd strived to stifle, came pouring out at once. And spilling out onto the slightly startled older boy.
No Name had now torn himself away from his daze to see Jack's deep, anguished sobs. He exchanged an unsettled look with a resigned Alexei and crawled over to Jack's other side.
Alexei had tears in his own eyes, though he was determined to hold them back. No Name had noticed, though. With fraught eyes, No Name pulled Jack to him as he cried.
"I know, I know," No Name mumbled, enclosing his arms around Jack, just like Doc had done. Just like his mother had done all those years ago. Just like Jack had done when Sophie was scared to sleep by herself.
Alexei sniffled, huddling against the wall again, leaning his head against No Name's shoulder, patting Jack's back as he continued to cry.
No Name looked from the crying kid in his arms to the Russian boy. "You okay?"
Alexei didn't say anything for a moment, setting his jaw tightly. "You can't let it beat ya," he replied quietly, staring off bleary eyed at the opposite wall.
No Name nodded, exhaling out a shaky breath of his own, suddenly tasked with mothering the two younger boys. "No, you can't."
Weakly, Jack began mumbling, chanting, finding a slow melody through his sobs. "What though my joys and comforts die?" he stuttered shakily in somewhat of a tune. "The lord my savior liveth. What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night he giveth."
No Name stared down at him, smoothing the hair back from Jack's sweaty forehead. The tears still poured, but he'd settled down considerably. Something about this was cathartic.
Jack continued to sing the hymn his mother was so fond of – the one she'd use to sing him to sleep. "No storm can shake my inmost calm…"
"While to that refuge clinging," No Name had joined in, slowly. He knew it.
Jack's expression turned from distress to confusion.
Several of the others knew it. Jack could hear them singing along softly in the darkness.
In their lonesome cell on the other side of the block, down the isolated corridor, Grim and Tide closed their eyes, listening to the faint voices.
"Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?"
Alexei knew it. They all knew it, as evidenced by the desperate voices contributing steadily to the chorus. The boys continued to the next verse, and then the next verse.
It must have been a regular psalm at the various Children's Aid Society institutions. Surely, it had been sung countless times in the orphanages, missions, charities, and the odd service the boys had attended in their day. The legacy of Reverend Brace, no doubt.
The religious aspect didn't matter. That wasn't what it was about for Jack. Not for any of them.
But for just a moment, they were taken back to an easier time. A comforting, tranquil existence of bygone innocence. United by a shared experience. The very people who'd taught them that hymn had abandoned them. All they had left was each other.
Jack allowed himself a small smile as they sang, echoing off the hallowed walls. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride and security.
He wasn't alone. He had brothers now. It didn't matter where they came from. For the first time in a long while, Jack felt embraced by a family. And this feeling was better than any ticket out west or any drug he could take.