Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Warning: Mentions of abuse
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚
Chapter Text
HOUSE OF REFUGE – JANURARY 1898
Jack was woken up around 5 in the morning, still huddled against No Name. The older boy looked quite uncomfortable, with his back flat against the damp wall of the cell, his legs outstretched before him, entangled with Jack's. He was sound asleep, with Alexei just as gone beside him – the Russian boy's head on his shoulder. Alexei's breathing was ragged, uneven, and worlds away from the deep breaths he'd demonstrated for Jack hours ago.
They looked like a Jacob Riis photograph.
Jack's neck felt stiff, and his body ached from sleeping in such an odd position. He'd been half-slumped against No Name, half-against Alexei. And yet with their combined body heat, Jack was shivering uncontrollably in the freezing cement cell.
He didn't want to peel himself away. Jack knew that would only make him colder.
Jack could see a large, hungry rat out of the corner of his eye. He kicked his legs, hoping to keep the rat away from his wounds. He tried not to think about the rat crawling all over him while he was asleep.
He took deep, trembling breaths, his eyes open wide, looking out into the silence, his hands and feet numb from the cold. He couldn't tell if it was morning or night still.
The guards hadn't brought down any food or water for what felt like a day, and the stench of mold and body odor was overpowering.
Abruptly, from down the hall, Jack heard the echo of a lock clicking, the push back of a bolt, and a door squeaking open. The sudden light that trickled in sent the rats scampering under the bars and forced Jack to shield his eyes. He heard footsteps approach, catching a glimpse of a large shadow hovering nearby. Maybe it was mealtime.
He was starving, and he'd eat anything at this point. He knew the other boys felt the same way.
A few days ago, several guards wheeled down a cart with large bowls of rice. The rule was one bowl per cell, and it was up to the inhabitants to share. Forget about utensils.
The guard delivering the bowl to Jack's cell had given the three boys a devious smirk, setting the bowl down by his feet. He unbuttoned his trousers as Jack looked away, listening to the guard urinate into the bowl of rice. With a low chuckle, he slid the bowl under the bars with his boot, walking away, saying that's what happens to rats who squeal to the papers about Refuge business.
It had left No Name, Jack, and Alexei with a choice to make, and neither of which was very appealing: starve or eat the rice.
This time, the guards weren't alone. Snyder had marched down the stairs, blowing his whistle to wake them all up.
This was unusual. Snyder didn't usually come down to solitary. In fact, he hadn't been down there since the boys were apprehended the day of the riot.
No Name woke up with a start, which, in turn, jolted Alexei back to life.
"Up! Up!" Snyder was yelling, banging his baton against the bars. "On your feet!"
Jack fought to keep his eyes open, listening to the groans of protest from the other cells. He felt numb. He stared across to the other cell, watching a rat nibble on the skin of Marquette's toes. The French boy was lying flat against the hard surface of the cell floor, his uniform as grimy as Jack's.
Rats crawled up and down Cards' chest and arms while he slept, licking at cuts and scrapes, huddling in the holes on his uniform.
Jack had lost any sense of time, any grasp of reality, his mind drifting back and forth on the hazy line between illusion and dream.
He looked at his own cellmates. One of No Name's eyes looked inflamed. His right hand was balled into a fist, as if sealed in place. His lips were swollen and dry. Alexei had dried blood caking his forehead and nose.
Jack couldn't create a full thought, and when he tried to conjure up memories, he could only see slivers of faces. He heard the shouts of friends and family, the thick Irish accents of his mother and father, the shrill giggles of little Sophie, the crackly voice of Kloppman, moving in and out, sounds and faces blending.
To Jack's surprise, Snyder was ordering guards to unlock the cells, as well as unchain the prisoners. He ordered the dazed boys into two lines outside their cells, demanding that they strip to their underclothes, and to be quick about it.
Jack found Grim and Tide were not amongst the inmates in line.
Once the uniforms were off, several guards brought in large buckets of water and, at Snyder's signal, began throwing the icy water at each inmate.
The boys cursed quietly, shivering uncontrollably after being drenched, watching the dirt and blood wash away down the cement floor. Jack held back his scream as the water was thrown at him, soaking his white undergarments, stinging his wounds. It brought him back to when he and Spot Conlon and a handful of others would jump off the docks for a swim.
But this water was freezing.
They were marched up the stairs in two, filed lines – bare feet climbing stone steps, tracking puddles of water as they walked, teeth chattering.
Jack looked behind him as he ascended the stairs out of the solitary block, leaving Grim and Tide behind without so much as a goodbye. A deep wave of sorrow hit Jack in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, as he was sure he'd never see them again.
The boys were taken up to the Refuge infirmary, where their injuries were cleaned, clean uniforms were given out, and meager breakfast was served.
Jack soon learned why their punishment had been cut short. Roosevelt had sent one of his agents there to spend the day on the island and observe the goings on as a sort of investigation.
Jack came back to the Ward 33 dormitory ten pounds lighter than the day of the riot. His body was wracked with a high fever, and a few of his wounds were infected.
The medical staff at the Refuge consisted of three nurses now that Dr. Fuller was gone – save for Dr. Sayers, who knew exactly what he was doing even if it was negligent. The surgery Dr. Sayers' was meant to conduct had been postponed until further notice, until word of the riot became old news, and rumors died down.
"You are fortunate, boys," Jack heard Dr. Sayers say. "If it were up to me, you would've been down there for another month."
Jack figured he was still sore about the beating he'd taken from Grim. Well, Sayers could fall off the roof as well, for all Jack cared.
Rays of winter sunlight came down through the broken dormitory window, shining in Jack's face, reflecting off his warm eyes. He was in his bunk again. The mattress and sheets felt soft compared to the hard ground he'd gotten used to. White bandages covered his back, thighs, hands, and shoulders.
He turned his head to the left and saw Lion in the lower bunk next to him. His right arm and left leg were all bandaged up, his face swollen and battered, the rest of his body as badly bruised as Jack's.
"Never thought I'd want to be in here again," Lion said, looking over.
"Me neither," Jack muttered.
"Grim and Tide are still down there," Lion said.
"Are they okay?"
"They ain't dead."
"Is anyone dead?"
"You, almost," Lion said.
"It ain't fair Snyder's keeping them in solitary."
Lion shook his head. "I could sort of hear 'em last night. Screamin'. Guess the guards took turns beatin' them again."
Grim and Tide were still alive, by some miracle. They had found a reason to go on. And that was something Jack couldn't comprehend. There were so many things out of his control. What difference could hope or wishes possibly make?
"Maybe Roosevelt will do something," Jack said quietly.
Lion gave Jack a small smile, shaking his head as if Jack still didn't get the joke. "Roosevelt don't care, Jack. Don't you get it by now? No one is coming. No one cares we're in here. The only way we're getting out of here is with a completed sentence or with the undertaker."
Jack looked over at Lion who stared back at him. Jack knew they both were thinking the same thing. The younger boy turned away and laid back on the pillow, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to muffled coughs and moans. Jack looked down at his bruised hands. His eyes felt weary, the chloral hydrate he'd been spoon-fed made his mind cloudy.
He didn't want to fall asleep, afraid he'd never wake up again.
Two hours later, Jack awoke to familiar footsteps in the dormitory. Snyder once again blew his dreaded whistle, rousing the others in their bunks.
"I see you boys have had a good rest," Snyder boomed, standing between two bunks, a smile on his face. "I trust you're all in more agreeable moods today."
Jack and the others just stared back, watching him stroll up and down the bunk beds, eyeing the boys' bandages and injuries.
"You'll be up and working in the factory tomorrow," Snyder growled. "I'm sure you'll appreciate getting back into a routine. With all this down time, you must be itching for something to do. Other than self-pollution, I mean."
Jack turned his head, looking down the dormitory, watching the gaunt faces of exhausted prisoners as Snyder droned on. His voice became muted as Jack took in the damage.
Muggs was two bunks down, on the upper half, his emotionless face a mask of scrapes, bruises, and stiches.
He could see Crazy on the lower bunk, looking completely zoned out, rocking back and forth slightly, his lips moving with no sound coming out, his eyes closing every now and again. Jack couldn't tell if he was praying or losing his mind. Maybe a bit of both.
Fleet had his knees pulled up to his chest in the bunk to Jack's right, his thumb close to his somewhat agape mouth, looking rattled.
Suddenly, a few of the boys' eyes were on Jack, and the murmur of Snyder's voice became audible to Jack again – snapping him out of the daze.
Snyder had made a comment about little Sophie to the entire dormitory. His words were now loud as can be, clear as day. The world slowed down around Jack as he listened, his face turning a shade of crimson, his breath hitching in his throat.
What did he just say?
Snyder's words were vile, suggestive, and riddled with lies as he recounted how Sophie came to visit, begging for Jack's freedom.
When Alexei shook his head in revulsion, having heard enough, Snyder saw an opportunity to pounce – calling Alexei a dope-addicted Cossack who'd done much worse. Alexei only seemed to take offense to the latter insinuation, knowing it was a far cry from the truth.
The story Snyder told about Sophie was almost entirely fabricated, filled with details that made Jack's skin crawl. Even Muggs looked unsettled.
By the end, Jack wanted to vomit.
And that's exactly what he did. As soon as Snyder left, Jack got out of bed and hurried to the washroom, kneeling in front of a toilet, emptying what little contents of his stomach there were.
There was an underlying threat to what Snyder told them. And that threat meant he could make those they loved and cared about on the outside suffer if they got in his way. And if they were unfortunate enough to get thrown in the Refuge, it would be even easier.
Doc, No Name, and River sat with Jack as he slumped against a wall in the washroom, disgusted and humiliated that Snyder had said those things about his sister – to the whole dorm no less. It didn't matter that it wasn't true. Snyder had still said it.
Jack was leaning against No Name again as the older boy held onto him, talking him down. For a young man slowly losing his sanity, No Name had managed to pull it together enough to take charge in the absence of Tide, Grim, and Calico.
"It ain't true," Jack cried, wiping angrily at his tears. "I heard what really happened. Ain't none of that true."
"No one believes a word of it," No Name was saying as Jack wept. "Don't cry, Jack. We all know Snyder's a liar."
Doc gave Jack a tin cup of water from the sink, urging him to take a few sips.
Jack did so, swallowing hard, handing the empty cup back to Doc. "I just…I don't want him to get her," Jack shivered as No Name hushed him, trying to get the boy to lower his voice. "I don't want Sophie in here with me."
"She won't be," No Name said, nodding for River to get Jack a blanket. "Jack, I'm telling you, she'll be fine. She's a smart girl, right? That's what you said."
"Hell, she's tougher than all of us combined. I wouldn't dare talk to Snyder the way she did," River said, returning with Jack's blanket and draping it around the freezing newsboy.
Jack managed a small laugh in agreement.
"That's right, she's a real fighter," No Name said down to Jack as he sniffled. "I bet she could kick my ass any day."
Jack laughed a little bit more, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Hey, Jack, how are ya feelin'?" Cards asked gently from the doorway, offering a sad smile as he shuffled in, bringing Lion, Shakespeare, and Marquette with him. They sat around the Manhattan boy, making sure he was okay.
As Jack once again tried to repair his sister's name, the midtown boys assured Jack they already knew it was all made up.
"Hey, it could've been any one of our sisters he chose to pick on," Shakespeare said, patting Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry it had to be yours. What he said was indefensible."
Marquette gave Jack a poignant, knowing smile. "You should hear some of the things he's said about my mother."
Jack returned Marquette's wounded stare, nodding. "Sophie's all I have left," he mumbled. "If Snyder brings her in here, and something happens to her, I'll never forgive myself. Never."
The boys offered words and assurances to console him.
"I just want to die," Jack whispered.
"Jack," No Name said, handing Jack the recently refilled water cup. "No, you don't."
"Yes, I do." It wasn't a whisper anymore. "I need Snyder to kill me. Just get it over with."
"You're out of your goddamn mind if you think any of us are going to let that happen," River said.
Doc seemed startled, but he pushed it down and replaced his worry with his usual look of reassurance. "Okay," he said. "Talk to us. Why do you want Snyder to kill you?"
"For his own safety," Jack told him.
"What do you mean?"
"Once I'm free and I see him again," Jack said, "outside this place, I swear I'll kill him."
The others stared at him, nodding slowly in understanding.
"I suppose he'll have to kill us all then," Cards replied.
As Jack washed up for bed, he noticed Muggs in the washroom doorway, giving him a funny look. Not funny as in he seemed humored, but funny as in strange. Like he was thinking, mulling something over in his head. He eventually looked away, exchanging a few words with Alexei who also looked over at Jack and nodded.
An orderly came in – taking over for Whalen while Snyder searched for a replacement – and took roll call. The orderly demanded silence, walking away with a jingle of keys on his belt.
Muggs stared at Jack again after it was over, and then whispered one more thing to Alexei before walking away and getting in his bunk.
Jack would never know what those words were. But it didn't matter. Just before dawn, while the moon still glowed over the blanket of snow surrounding the reformatory, Jack was awoken by a hand over his mouth and a whispered voice telling him to shut the fuck up or his neck would be snapped.
Muggs loomed over Jack in the darkness, his eyes cold and determined. "You make one sound, Duane Street, and I'll murder you myself. Nod so I know you understand me."
Shakily, Jack nodded, squinting his eyes in fear as the older boy released him. He motioned for Jack to get up and out of bed, telling him to get dressed and put his boots on. Confused but afraid more than anything, Jack did as he was told, struggling to lace his boots with shaking fingers.
Muggs pulled Jack to the window once he was done, turning his shoulders forcibly so he faced the river and pointing to ferry that had just pulled onto the island. "You see that boat?" Muggs mumbled in Jack's ear.
The younger boy nodded.
"It leaves in about 10 minutes with Roosevelt's lackey, which means you have 10 minutes to get on it. Roosevelt will have a carriage for that son of a bitch on the other side of the river. Get underneath it and hang on. It'll take you past the docks and away from the harbor cops. Jump off when you're far enough away. It won't be light for another two hours, so no one should see you."
He was whispering so fast that Jack could barely process anything.
The newsboy slowly turned from the window, staring at Muggs in shock. "I can't get out. The front door is locked—"
Muggs held up a key from his pocket, silencing Jack. "No, it ain't," Muggs replied, handing Jack the key. "Once you get out, toss it in the river."
"But," Jack stared dumbly at the key in his hand and then back up at Muggs in complete astonishment. "How did you get that? I don't understand."
Muggs maintained his stony expression, setting his jaw tightly. "Don't matter how I got it. That ain't important."
Jack nodded again, giving Muggs an unsure look as he pocketed the key, sensing it was best to leave it at that. "Why?" He whispered. "Why are you helping me?"
Jack knew full well Muggs could've escaped himself, and probably was smart enough to get away with it, too.
"Don't ask dumb questions, Duane Street," Muggs said, rolling his eyes as he roughly turned Jack away and practically dragged him to the dormitory door.
"But what about you?"
Muggs opened the dormitory door, glancing around to make sure no one was out there. He looked at Jack, shaking his head. "What about me? I'll get out when I get out."
"What if Snyder—"
"What if Snyder…what?" Muggs growled, dragging Jack by his arm to the stairs. "Snyder ain't gonna do shit. I've got nothing left to lose. My sister's already in here."
Jack took a deep breath, looking down the dark staircase in apprehension. "I don't know," Jack whispered shakily.
"I do," Muggs snarled, giving Jack a small shove. "Now go."
Swallowing his fear, Jack started down the steps in silence, taking each stair with caution, as if it would cave through at any sudden movement.
"And Jack," Muggs whispered after him, making Jack turn around. Muggs gave the boy a knowing smirk. "Don't bother with Mrs. Anderson this time. Go straight to the boat, you fuckin' idiot."
And so he did.