WHAT?

WHEN?

WHY?

HOW?

Yeah, I'm back. Again. Might just get back to this regular posting thing...

I'm mainly here today because I was supposed to be in a swim meet but it turned out I never actually got signed up...

So, in short: free time = new chapter

Basic math.

Review Responses:

Emz (Guest): Oh ho ho, you and I are gonna get along just fine. I love reading and writing drama too, and the drama in this story isn't close to done yet, so buckle down and prepare to enjoy! Albert and Buttons are quite the underrated brotp, I agree. I'm glad you liked the chapter, thank you!

JustVildaPotter: There shall come a day when you see actual curse words in WAN instead of the word fork... but today is not that day. IT'S REPRISE TIME MY DUDE!

Huffelpuffdraws: Please unalive Weasel. *hands shovel* Go do it. SPECS REGAINED YOUR TRUST BY NOT BEING A SCAB AND WE STAN Yeah... Smalls and Albert... not saying good things. Not thinking rationally. Not good times. DON'T BE SAD, YOU'RE GETTING A NEW CHAPTER SOON!

*tosses virtual cookies to the three people that reviewed* I very much appreciate.

Okay, now that I've talked for a while, it's Davey's turn to talk for A WHILE. This is a MASSIVE chapter. If I'm not mistaken, it's the new longest, beating... whoever the old longest was I can't remember. There'll only be a couple chapters that get to be this long, so don't worry if your attention span is already cowering.

Have fun!

Chapter 55- Davey

Monday, September 20, 1999, 1:50 p.m.

It was a relief to finally be in the back of Miss Larkin's car. Davey had been running around all morning, trying to ascertain her whereabouts, so that she could help him ascertain Jack's whereabouts. Because of Jack- as well as her classes being called off- Miss Larkin had understandably not been at school for much of the day. But she did eventually turn up at Davey's lunchtime, when she briefly stopped by to pick up some things from the theater. Davey, using any and all opportunities to catch Medda when she arrived, had already been sitting in the theater for fifteen minutes before she showed up. Seeing her enter, he'd seized the chance, quickly explaining the newsies' current situation and what he wished to do. It had taken a fair amount of persuasion, but in the end, Miss Larkin agreed that Davey could visit Jack along with Sarah and Les.

The two older Jacobs siblings had worked out the details earlier on during all Davey's time spent waiting, deciding Les and Sarah would turn up a little later to aid in the convincing. This would allow Davey to speak to Jack alone for a short while first, hopefully wearing him down a bit before requiring additional help. He was under the impression that Jack had no intentions of carrying on with the strike, what with the way he'd disappeared and had neither checked in nor left a plan of action for the others. The reasoning was that if Sarah came along and pressured Jack into returning, he'd concede, because of the rivalry between the two of them that still didn't make sense to Davey. If coming back to the newsies meant spiting Sarah, it was bound to persuade Jack. And if that failed, Davey had one final trick in his repertoire: Les, who knew how to beg like the best of them. That was assuming Les' puppy-dog eyes worked just as well on Jack as they had on Tommy Boy the other day. Fingers crossed.

That all being planned, none of it would have mattered if Medda hadn't been so cooperative when it came to random student needs. They would have been in a very sticky situation had that not been the case. Thankfully, now there was just the trial of speaking to Jack that Davey needed to stress about.

The car came to a stop in the parking lot of Miss Larkin's building, and Davey stepped out to help her unload the various art supplies she had brought along from the theater's storage- for Jack's use, he had to assume. Medda made small talk as they rode the elevator to her penthouse, praising the strike effort and the headline, asking how the other newsies were doing, and even commenting on the pleasant weather they were having. Davey gave her sufficient one-word answers and nods of acknowledgement, but left it at that. He couldn't help but notice that Miss Larkin seemed to want to talk about anything but the boy they were going to see. That was, until they exited the elevator.

Before unlocking her apartment door, Medda instructed Davey to stop moving forward with a flick of her hand. "Wait out here a minute, will ya?" She requested, turning her key in the lock. "I need to make sure he's awake."

"Of course." He supposed it made sense that Jack might be asleep, since he'd skipped out on school that day.

Davey hovered with the door halfway open as Medda entered her home and deposited her load. Jack was nowhere to be found in any of the initial rooms, so Miss Larkin waved Davey in, telling him to continue unloading things while she moved down the hall to continue her search. He did as she instructed, but only for a moment before following her to one of the many additional rooms. Again, he hung in the doorway, but this time managed to catch a glimpse of Jack, who could be seen hurriedly stuffing a piece of paper in the pocket of his sweatshirt as Miss Larkin entered the room.

"Hey... I- I thought ya weren't comin' back 'til lata'."

"I wasn't, but someone wanted to check on you."

"Who-"

Medda glanced behind her, nodding at Davey to allow him entrance. He burst into the room, exclaiming, "How 'bout lettin' a pal know you're alive?" with much enthusiasm.

He saw Jack stiffen and turn to Medda, an almost fearful look blanketing his face like the worst kind of snow. "Wh- why is he here?"

"Why d'ya think? I was worried about you!"

Jack didn't acknowledge Davey's answer to his question. He just kept looking at Medda with a pathetic expression on his face, his entire body stiff like a taxidermied animal. What was he so afraid of? "Medda-"

He'd barely started whatever he was saying when Medda stopped him, giving his shoulder a comforting pat. "Why don't I leave you with your friend," she suggested gently, leaving the room with a smile on her face.

"No, wait-" Jack tried to protest, but she was already gone.

And then there were two.

If Jack's reaction was anything to go by, being left alone with Davey came close to having his legs run over and stomped on by an elephant. As one may have guessed, this was not helping Davey's confidence. But he shut the bedroom door and pondered his words while Jack, without a word, returned to a large canvas in one corner of the room. On this canvas, Davey was just noticing, the other boy had started a painting. Some range of mountains, done in all shades of blue, pink, and a bit of orange. It barely covered the first third of the canvas, but it was beautiful. Davey was mesmerized just looking at it.

Only rather than complimenting the artwork, he charged head-on into conversation, demanding "Where didja go, we couldn't find ya!" Although, he was smiling at Jack while asking.

"Eva' think maybe I didn't wanna be found?"

No. Davey hadn't thought that. Not really, anyway. He'd had his suspicions that Jack wanted nothing more to do with the newsies, but he had hoped that wasn't the other boy's true decision on the matter. And now, suspicion more or less confirmed, Davey didn't know what to say in response to Jack's grumbled declaration. Again, he looked over the art piece, and made the first comment that popped into his head. "Hey, is that a real place? That Santa Fe?"

Why oh why, for the love of all that was holy, did he not know when to keep his mouth shut? Throwing outright insults at someone's art was no way to accomplish anything. However, for Davey's benefit, Jack had nothing to say about the remark. The older boy picked up a paintbrush and ignored his companion, granting Davey an I-could-care-less silence to fill.

So he plowed ahead, whipping a folded newspaper out of his schoolbag. "Hey, didja see the papes? We are front page news above the fold! Oh yes-" he let the bottom half of the newspaper fall, so Jack could see the article below the front page photo- "above. The fold."

"Good fer you." Jack didn't share even a smidge of Davey's excitement. In fact, he barely glanced at the newspaper being held out to him before turning back to his work. This mission was getting worse by the seconds.

"Everyone wants ta meet the famous Jack Kelly!" Davey praised, watching the painting continue. There. That was good. He could work off that and stay on Jack's good side. Just focus on the positives. "Even Spot Conlon sent over a boy just to say, next event, we can count on Brooklyn, how 'bout that?"

"What about it?"

"Didn'tcha hear me? We got Brooklyn with us now! It's great!" Wait. Not everyone thought that. Quick, damage control. "I know Spot's a tad late gettin' into the game, but what matters is, he's here now. On our side. And with him backin' us, we have everything we need to continue-"

"We got stomped into the ground."

As if Davey needed the reminder. He still had bruises from Saturday's fight, including a particularly nasty one on his shoulder; Morris' brass knuckles could certainly do some damage.

"Yeah," he gave into Jack's point, "they got us this time. I'll grant you that. But we've moved past it. What's lost isn't relevant anymore. We gotta acknowledge that it was us who took round one, no matter the casualties. And with press like this-" he tapped the newspaper- "our fight is far from over."

Jack stopped painting, shoved the brush behind his ear, and straightened up to glare at Davey. "Ev'ry newsie who could walk was back at school this mornin', actin' like the strike neva' happened."

"How do you know?" challenged Davey, ticked off at Jack's quick ability to shut down anything using the simplest of facts. "You weren't there."

He shrugged. "Medda heard about it. People kept callin' 'er, lookin' fer me."

So he'd known everything, been filled in on every new development, but hadn't bothered to call his boys and let them know it was so? He hadn't given a fig to the idea that they might be concerned. That was brilliant. Top notch leadership right there.

"People called Medda, huh? And you were, what, sittin' right next ta her, havin' a good laugh?"

"No. Why would I be-"

"You scared us, Jack! We thought you were dead!" Davey startled himself with the shout, and rushed to settle his own temper before it set off Jack's. "Or- or something like that. I mean, obviously you weren't gonna be dead, because that's a crazy extreme, but we were worried. I was worried."

"So worried ya decided ta give up on the strike?"

For starters, that's bull- No, Davey couldn't say that. Keep your cool. Whatever he says, don't let it set you off. "I never gave up. If you'd been there, you would know."

Jack crossed his arms. "Then tell me you didn't go right back ta normal today. Prove me wrong."

Goddammit. He couldn't. Jack knew he couldn't. How was it that the older boy already knew him so well? "Okay, I did go back to class with some of the others. I can't deny it. But you have to understand, if I skip any more school, my folks-"

"Save yer breath, I get it! It's hopeless! We should all put it behind us an' forget anythin' eva' happened, shouldn't we?"

"I never said that."

"Didn't you?"

Okay yeah, maybe he'd implied it. "Even if I did say it, I didn't mean it. Not in the way you think. Today I took a break from striking, yes. And yes, I went back to the journalism class. An' I'm sorry. I know you think that means I gave up, but when I got there and I was standing in that line, I saw this- look on Weasel's face. I can't describe it exactly, but believe me, I could tell he was actually nervous. Especially since only a few of us came back. He wasn't sure we were done with the strike. And looking at him, I realized he was right. We aren't completely done yet. This isn't over, Jack. Far from it, like I said before. We got 'em worried, really worried. And I came to my senses. I walked away, didn't pay for any time to write. An' it wasn't just me, most everyone who was there did too, ya should a' seen. It was a beginnin'. Not perfect, but a start."

Jack had gone silent a long while ago. He'd shoved his hands deep into his sweatshirt pocket, no longer glaring daggers at Davey. Now he was fixated on the floor, his entire posture drooping. Hurriedly running back through his speech, Davey couldn't help but question himself. What had he said? He could think of nothing offensive.

"Jack, didn'tcha hear me?" he asked for the second time. "I said it isn't over."

"I heardja." Turning his gaze upward, Jack met Davey's eyes with an obviously forced smile. "Tha's great. Wonderful." He brought forth one of his hands to pat Davey twice on the shoulder. "Good luck wit that."

His hand rested there a few moments longer than necessary, allowing Davey to properly analyze his expression. The false smile, however convincing Jack must have been trying to make it, was failing miserably. It was all betrayed by his eyes. Somehow, all the light had gone out of them. The spark and fire that had been present in the days before the disaster were now entirely snuffed out. And the worst part was, Davey didn't know what had dimmed Jack. But there was clearly something more going on, beyond losing Saturday's battle.

"Is everything-"

"There he is, just like I said!" Les came barreling into the room, Sarah hot on his heels.

She corrected, "You didn't say. Kath suggested he was here." Looking pleasantly at Jack, Sarah added, "And I do believe, she was right."

In response, he snarled at her, once again annoyed with the presence of newcomers in his space. "What's a fella gotta do ta get away from you people?" Jack's glare returned too, set on Sarah this time.

Davey remarked, "There's no escapin' us, pal, we're inevitable," before Les accosted him.

"So what's the story? Can we 'ave the theata' or not?"

This idea- using the school theater for the eventual rally- had been tossed around among the newsies at Jacobi's, and passed to Davey via Sarah. He had yet to discuss the matter with Miss Larkin, as his top priority had been convincing Jack to rejoin them, and he'd forgotten to bring up the rally idea during the drive to her apartment.

"Calm down," he told Les, "I'm working on it. Still gotta ask Medda."

"You'd betta'! I need ta let my girl know we got a date!"

Up until this moment, Davey hadn't known it was possible to choke on air. "I'm sorry, your girl?"

"You heard me."

"Apparently, he's been-" Sarah made air quotes- "'swattin' skirts away all mornin'.'"

"I have!" Les insisted. "The girls were all ova' me at school."

"Right..."

"One of 'em has a sister who's a newsie, an' she asked me out."

Davey pulled a skeptical face. "Sister that's a newsie? Really?"

"It's true! Ya can ask 'er yerself when ya meet her. Her name's Sally, she's a plum, an' her older sister is a Queens newsie!"

A plum? What century was this?

When Davey only stared at him, Les walked over to Jack, getting right in his bubble. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah kid, alright," Jack brushed him off. "That's a great story ya've cooked up there."

"But it's true!"

"You look like hell," Sarah told Jack, pushing her younger brother aside and moving the subject away from the child's love life.

"Just got back," Jack muttered, retrieving the paintbrush from behind his ear. "What else is new?"

"Dave show ya Kath's article?"

"Yep. Brilliant."

"It really was. Didja like the part on-"

"Hey, where's that s'posed ta be?" Les pointed to the painting.

Davey answered, "New Mexico."

At that, Sarah grimaced, her former statement left forever unfinished. "Oh boy, Jack, I gotta tell ya, this 'open up a restaurant in Santa Fe' routine is getting tired. Even in Rent, Roger moved back to New York."

"Yes he did," agreed Les, "and then he died."

"No, he didn't. Nobody died."

Jack put in, "Last I checked, Angel was somebody."

"Right, but besides them."

"Well technically, Mimi-"

"Oh yeah..." Sarah nodded. "Forgot her."

"Can we table the palaver an' get back ta business?" Les demanded, cutting into Sarah and Jack's musical discussion. "D'you think Medda will let us have the theata'?"

Jack frowned. "Have the theata'? What for?"

Davey reentered the conversation, ready to actually bring him up to speed with their new plan. "It's what I've been tryin' ta tell ya! We've been brainstorming the next step in our protest. You hear about the governor and the trolley workers?"

"No."

"We'll fill you in on all those details later. Basically, he's gonna start fixin' stuff in this city. So ta get his attention, we wanna hold a rally. A citywide meeting where ev'ry newsie gets a say."

"From Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem, wherever else," Sarah listed. "They all get a vote and a chance to decide how to fight Pulitzer and end this nonsense."

"That's right. And," Davey added as a new thought came to him, "we can do it after school hours so no one loses a day a' class. Smart?"

Jack's laugh in answer to the question was absolutely sickening. "Yeah. Smart enough ta getcha committed to a padded room."

Sarah gestured to the canvas. "The guy who paints places he's never seen is calling us crazy?"

A pause, and then: "Ya wanna see a place I seen."

It wasn't really a question, but Davey replied anyway. "Sure, why not."

Jack had already flipped his artwork around by that point, displaying a sketch that had been done on the back to all three siblings. Davey took it in: A large man's shoe, labeled "Pulitzer" in all capital letters, coming down on a crowd of tiny human figures. After a moment of closer inspection, Davey noticed the picket signs that the kids in the drawing were carrying. He could just make out the various messages of "Strike" and even one that read "Seize the Day". The slogan he'd invented.

Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach, and slightly dizzy. He'd caused this. All of it. Katherine, before, had tried to tell him he was wrong to think such a thing, but here was evidence, front and center. This was his fault.

"The school courtyard, thanks ta my big mouth." Jack said, explaining the drawing. His words were exactly what Davey had been telling himself all day. He was tired of hearing it. "Filled ta overflowin' with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested-"

"Oh, lighten up, no one died!"

Jack froze, gaping at him. Davey wanted to melt into the floor. Of all the wrong things he'd said so far this afternoon, this here was the worst.

"Oh, is that what yer aimin' for?"

No, Katherine had gotten in his head. It wasn't his fault, everything inside him was just so... confused. He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't meant to. Davey could only shake his head, his mouth open just barely, but empty of the right words to diffuse the tension.

"Well, go on!" Jack ordered, getting louder with each word. "Call me a coward! You call me a quitter. Ain't no way I am puttin' them kids back in danger."

"This whole strike business has hardly been done before," Sarah jumped in while Davey stayed silent. "It's guaranteed to be dangerous!" Jack tightened his jaw, and she softened her tone. "Look, I get that you're scared, Jack, and upset about how Saturday went down, but we all are. This isn't just about you."

"It ain't about me at all!"

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about-" Jack cut himself off, snapping his lips shut. He slipped his hands back into his pocket, hunching his shoulders. His temper seemed to be fading as quickly as it had flared up. "It's-"

"What?"

"Nothin'. Never mind."

"Jackie," Davey came forward. "What's goin' on?"

"I said never mind, Dave."

"I don't care."

The older boy swallowed, took in some air, then retrieved a folded piece of paper from his sweatshirt pocket. He held it up, but didn't hand it to Davey. "Specs brought me a note from Crutchie."

Of course. Crutchie was still missing. That fact kept slipping Davey's mind, but it most certainly hadn't left Jack's. That explained why he was off today. Although, if he had a note from Crutchie, everything must be fine, right?

"At the Refuge."

Oh. Oh. Shit. No wonder Jack had looked so offended after being told to lighten up. Now Davey was regretting having said that even more than he already had been. He tried to start apologizing, but Jack wasn't done venting yet. Now that he'd started he seemed in no rush to stop.

"I went to see 'im. Climbed up the fire escape. Snyder busted him up so bad he couldn't even come to the window!"

At Davey's side, Sarah and Les exchanged a concerned look.

"Jack," Sarah started, "I'm so-"

"I mean, what if he don' make it?" Jack's cry sliced the air, giving Davey pause as he watched him crumple the letter and shove it away.

What did he mean, Crutchie might not make it? The Refuge couldn't be that bad of a place, could it? Surely... surely Snyder didn't cause that drastic of harm to those kids. Not enough to lead them to... Unless, there was something hinted at in the letter that Jack wasn't up to sharing. Oh god.

"I..." Davey bit his lip, considering. "That won't happen, Jackie. Crutchie's gonna be fine." He was going to be fine. He had to be.

"You can't say that. You ain't neva' been to the Refuge."

"I know. You're right. But-"

"Oh, stop with the buts, Dave! Ya ain't got no authority ta tell me what is or ain't gonna happen! I know Snyder!"

"And I know Crutchie! He's one a' the toughest people I've ever met!"

"You don' understand. He ain't as tough as he seems."

"Come on, Jackie-"

"No one is that tough. Everyone's got a weakness. And Crutchie-" Jack's voice broke. For a split second, Davey could see, quite clearly, just how near shattering he was. But then he stiffened, and it was gone. "Crutchie's trapped. I don't wanna see that happen ta anyone else."

"It won't, Jackie, I promise. This time, we're gonna be more careful."

"No!" He'd gone back to yelling again. "No! Dave, god!" Jack made a gesture with the hands that had flown out of his pocket; he appeared to be trying to crush the air in his fingertips. "I thought you'd understand, havin' a little brother an' all!"

"We do understand!" Sarah rejoined the discussion. "We know how much you care about your guys, and that's why we're trying to help them."

"Ya ain't gonna help 'em by jus' shoulderin' all that shit from Saturday!"

"If we don't overcome what happened, we'll be stuck forever. I'm sorry you don't understand that, but Davey an' I-"

"All you an' Dave care about is the money!"

"What?"

"You think that if we get the price knocked back by half a dollar or whateva', everything's gonna be just peachy, because that's how it works fer youse an' yer perfect little lives!"

That was it. Davey was done. "It's not about the damn money, Jack! We are just as imperfect of people as you are! Don't act like we aren't messed up in any way jus' 'cause we haven't been anyplace as awful as the Refuge!"

"Well you's still luckier than most! Ya got a motha' an' a fatha' that love-"

"Our father lost his job! Him not having a union behind him messed up our entire family! You know that already, Jack, an' ya should know that for that reason, we're in this for more than the money! All of us have reasons for wantin' to take down Pulitzer, other than whateva' vendetta you've got! This is a fight we have to win, because-"

"IF I WANTED A SERMON I WOULD SHOW UP FER CHURCH!"

It was so loud, Jack's shout, that Davey flinched at the sound of it. Even Sarah looked fearful, and stepped back to put a hand on the shoulder of Les, who had made a noise like a small, terrified animal. For a short while, the three siblings stood still, staring at Jack, waiting for him to make the next move. When he didn't, it was Davey who unfroze.

There were a million things he could have said, and a million levels of volume he could've chosen to say them at. He went with not-quite yelling, "Tell me how quitting does Crutchie any good?"

Jack gaped for a moment, before making a "Dszahdh" noise, which was apparently the only thing he could articulate.

"Exactly! So, here's how it goes: Once we win, and we will be winning, make no mistake-"

"We'll be what?"

"We're already winning."

"Right... Tell that ta Pulitzer."

"We will! We will, that's a good idea! We need a meeting with Pulitzer an' the school board. We just gotta arrange it, but I'm sure that won't be too much of a problem, s'long as we tell him we wanna discuss the protest. So we'll get in there, and we'll tell them straight out: they let Crutchie go, or they keep. Getting. Pounded." Davey brought his fist to his palm three times as he said this, to emphasize the "pounding".

"Yeah," Jack scoffed. "You do that, Dave. You just go along wit your silly little plans and lead everyone ta ruin again."

"Davey's 'silly plans' actually have a goal in mind," interjected Sarah, "which is far more than yours ever have."

"Well good! I'm glad ya like his plans! He's da leader now, who gives a crap about me?"

Timidly, Les asked what Davey was thinking. "Whaddadya mean he's the leada' now? We're tryin' ta get you back!"

Jack stared at him in confusion. "I thought I made it clear I was done."

Sarah laughed. "Not really, no! Didn't Davey explain that all the other newsies want is you ta rally behind?"

Davey affirmed this as Jack looked to him. "Yep, an' I sorta told 'em all I'd get you back, so..."

"Oh, Dave!" Jack exclaimed, annoyed. "What the hell madeja think I'd wanna come back afta' what happened? Did the Delanceys bust up yer brains or somethin'?"

"Well, I certainly didn't think you were one ta back down from a fight."

"Ba- back down? Back down! Dave, as I recall, we all got our asses kicked! There ain't no fight ta back down from, an' Pulitzer won it."

"Pulitzer may have won the battle," Sarah stated, "but it's us that are gonna win the war."

"Oh, come on."

"No, she's right," said Davey, ready to remind Jack of the facts. "We got Weasel worried, the governor's attention, and a front page story. If ya ask me, the school board's pretty much surrounded by pressure."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Jackie, if you'd just take a moment ta think abou-"

"Ya wanna know what I think? Joseph Pulitzer is a jerk, a rattlesnake wit no respect for-"

"You're right! And you know why a snake starts to rattle?"

Jack was thrown off by the sudden question. Clearly, he didn't understand the metaphor Davey was trying to get at, and probably thought the other guy was just trying to spit snake facts. "No, why?'

"'Cause he's scared."

"Oh, sure."

"Go an' look it up! The poor guy's head is spinning!" Davey's voice cracked on the word 'head', resulting in it being an octave higher than the rest of his statement. Watching Jack grimace at the sound, he cleared his throat and moved on. "Why else would he send for the goons if he wasn't scared? You saw how many police cars showed up, he practically called in the army! Dozens a' goons, all those cops, and... Point is, he's afraid of losing the power he's got over us, and he will do anything he can to keep it."

"I know that. Whaddaya want me ta do about it?"

"We needja ta do what you've been doing, I toldja! Come lead the union again."

"Dave... no. I- I can't. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"Yeah."

"Jackie, that's the biggest load a'-"

"I don't understand," Les butted in. "Why can'tcha come back?"

"I just..." Jack's hands flew into his pocket again. "Just... can't."

"That's not a reason," Davey told him.

"Don't worry about it, alright?"

"Well is it because a' losing Crutchie or what? I'd like an explanation, an' I'm not leaving until ya give me a real reason why you're givin' up, 'specially afta' you called me out fer doin' the exact same thing."

"I..." Jack seemed to be stuck on the words, but after a few moments, he forced them out. "I lost everythin' on Saturday, okay?"

Huh? As far as Davey knew, nothing beyond Crutchie's disappearance and Romeo and Elmer's concussions had happened. And the latter two events didn't greatly impact Jack's life. None of this was adding up.

Sounding slightly surprised, Sarah said, "I knew Crutchie meant a lot ta you, but I didn't think-"

"No, I don't mean Crutchie! I'm talkin' about-" what Jack was talking about never got specified, as he cut himself off, shaking his head slowly, pained expression clear all over his face. "...I dunno. I got no idea what I'm sayin'." He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. "What's this conversation even about anymore?"

"You," Davey stated. "You gotta come back."

Jack made a whining noise. "Do I really?"

Sarah gave him an exasperated look. "Jack, c'mon, ya know your friends won't listen ta Davey."

"Guess yer right there."

"Only you can get them to band together and see just how close we are to victory. They aren't gonna take orders from anyone else."

"Actually," Davey had to clarify, wanting to be honest, "they were listenin' pretty well ta Sp-"

"Dave, shh!" Sarah turned back to Jack. "We need our leader. Come back, just for a day, and watch what happens when you do."

He considered. "Youse sure ya need me? Even if I come back, it don't change what happened. it's still my fault."

Davey placed a hand on his shoulder. "We all messed up the first time. But that's in the past. This time, we're gonna get it right. Only it can't work if you don't move on and stop letting what happened to Crutchie drag you down."

"Okay." Jack pushed Davey's hand away.

"Davey got us back on track," Sarah stated. "Now it's your job to make sure we stay there and finish the protest strong."

"Ya gotta help us stick it to the man!" Les declared.

"The man?" asked Jack.

"Yeah," said Davey, "Humpty Dumpty up there heading the school board. If my instincts are right, and they usually are, he's about to crack."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes," Sarah decided, "we've got somethin' he hasn't."

"What's that?"

"Faith in ourselves. If we pull together, we can do this. Like you said, he might think we're nothin', but we're gonna prove him wrong. We are so, so much more than nothing."

"...Right. Right, yeah, we ain't nothin'."

He said it as if he didn't believe it for a second. "Don't worry, Jackie," Davey assured, "we got a plan, too. plan. And it's gonna work."

Jack cracked a small smile. "Alright."

"And..." Les drew out the word. "We got you." He spat in his hand, held it out to the newsie leader. "We do, don't we?"

Nodding, Jack spat in his own hand, then shook Les'. "Let's do this." He repeated the spit-shake with Sarah, who went through it far too eagerly, before moving on to Davey. "Whaddaya say, Dave? Ya ready to 'watch what happens'? Whatever that means?"

Reluctantly, Davey went through with the spit-shake, not caring what Jack would say about the way he was grimacing. "You said it, Jackie. We're back in business."

Jack grinned in Davey's direction, but his eyes flicked away distractedly. The darkness in them was still visible, and the sight of it made Davey's own smile shrink. Wiping his hand roughly against his pant leg in an attempt to remove the germs, he pondered how he could possibly address his concerns for Jack's well-being.

Just as he thought he'd landed on an idea, it was promptly forgotten, because Medda appeared in the doorway. Her arrival caused Les to announce excitedly, "There's gonna be a rally! Jack's on board, an' we need the theata', an' Brooklyn's with us now, an' I got a date!"

Jack moved forward to swat him gently on the head, and Davey, after a moment, followed suit.

This took ages to edit. I am EXHAUSTED.

It would mean ever so much if you left a nice substantial review and (just for fun) told me which borough you'll be sitting with at the rally. I'll be with Les and the Queens newsies.

See y'all next week? Potentially sooner?

I make no promises, you know me.

Adios!