Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
warning: brief mentions of sex
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️
MANHATTAN, 1899
The beginning of the end began the night before the rally.
A cool July breeze whistled through the open window on Irving Hall's small dining room – reserved for Medda and her favorite stars. That night, however, included only Medda, Sophie, Bella, and Jack – who'd also brought along Sarah Jacobs. Because Medda had practically raised Jack from the time he was nine to about 13, it was important to him that she meet Sarah. Before the wild evening festivities that would no doubt take place the following day.
It was best Medda meet Sarah in a quiet, controlled environment, where she could really get to know the girl Jack was so smitten with. But much to Jack's annoyance, Medda already seemed to be doing much worse than Sophie in the way of first impressions.
An hour earlier, before the couple had arrived, Medda was upstairs in her room, lying on her bed next to two empty wine glasses, fretting about everything and nothing at once.
And now, after downing a third glass of wine, it was all she can do not to slip off her chair.
"Medda, are you okay?" Jack asked, sounding embarrassed and forceful, but concerned, nonetheless.
"Oh dear," Medda laughed as Bella helped her back into the chair and then proceeded to grab more wine. "I'm right as rain. Don't worry about me!"
As the wind sailed through the curtains, the flame of the tabletop candles sprung to life in a flickering dance. Moonlight illuminated the mess of fingerprints and dust on the windows. Outside the dining room, Sarah could hear the shouts of a few patrons mingling about with dancers, hearing more profanity than she would have liked. Drinking helped relax her, and she followed Jack's example in taking small sips of water after a swig of wine. Medda seemed relieved not to be drinking alone.
This was the first time Sarah had seen Jack since their little talk on the rooftop of her family's flat a week ago, and he'd arranged for her to meet Medda as soon as Medda had a free evening.
The 30-minute walk to Irving Hall from Hester Street had used up much of Sarah's energy, and after a warm bowl of Medda's flavorful meatball soup, exhaustion had finally overtaken her.
It took all she had not to fall asleep at dinner. And worse still, she felt her eyes drooping while she helped Sophie hand out cups of tea and a dessert of sticky chocolate cake – something Sophie and Bella had baked special for Sarah's arrival. Perhaps Sophie was trying to make up for that little display of unpleasantness at Tibby's.
Jack certainly was. For most of the conversation, amidst Medda's tipsy rambling, Sophie's monosyllabic quips, and Bella's genuine effort to keep the topics light – Jack had been exceptionally sweet and gentle in talking to Sarah.
Sophie was on her best behavior. She knew how much it meant to Jack for this evening to go well. Sarah was so different from the other girls Jack had been with, and that included Bella. This wasn't her world. Sarah looked a million miles away. She might as well have been living in another country, another century. But to Sarah's credit, she seemed to be going out of her way to appear laid back and absent of judgement while maintaining her polite disposition.
Sophie found her to be just as cheerful and soft-spoken as she'd been at the restaurant. In fact, felt so at ease that she began telling Sarah a few embarrassing stories from Jack's childhood, some of which made Jack's face turn a shade of crimson. He subsequently covered over his blush, but not before flashing Sarah a good-humored smile.
Medda insisted they stay the night in one of the available rooms – especially now that both Sarah and Jack had four glasses of wine between them. Ironically, the room available was the one Jack and Sophie had shared years ago, when they'd lived there together.
And now Jack was down the hall, talking with Sophie in the four girls' room, with Bella already dead asleep. Leah was otherwise engaged downstairs, and Colleen was out with Mush.
Sarah leaned against the doorframe, listening to his soft voice and his sister's laughs as he relayed a story about the Brooklyn newsies showing up to save the day during one of the protests.
"Spot was always one for attention," Sophie sighed. "Quite the entrance."
"I'm just relieved he showed up when he did," Jack replied, and Sarah heard the floorboards creak as he made his way to the door. "Not that we needed saving or anything."
Sarah tiptoed back to the bedroom as Jack emerged in the hallway, climbing into his childhood bed, and not even bothering with the blanket due to the humidity.
From the window, Sarah could hear the chorus of carriages, trollies, and the occasional police whistle – all vying for volume over the light pattering of rain. She had been rather surprised Medda allowed Sarah to share a room with Jack, let alone a bed. Neither of Sarah's parents would have permitted it, but she figured they didn't need to know. And Sarah wasn't about to complain.
Medda had doted over her in her, squeezing the sides of Sarah's face affectionately and kissing her cheek, looking at her and saying to Jack, "Oh, look at her face. She is so cute, but much too thin. She needs to eat if she wants hips for childbirth."
Sarah was rather taken aback, but maintained her smile, and Jack had quickly changed the subject.
Moments after Sophie said goodnight to her brother, Jack returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Sarah watched as he took off his suspenders and collared shirt, draping it over a wooden dresser. He sprawled out on the narrow mattress in his trousers and undershirt, his back up against the headboard. Immediately – not used to this much freedom and having never been alone like that with a boy – Sarah pressed her body to his. She felt butterflies as he snuggled against her, enclosing her in a protective cocoon.
The farthest she and Jack had gone was a quick kiss on the cheek on the rooftop. And she had been the one to kiss him. Jack had limited his touches, kept his distance, and seemed to be afraid of making her uncomfortable. He knew she wasn't sexually experienced — quite different from the other girls he'd been with — and he almost didn't know what to do with her. So, he decided he wouldn't do anything too forward unless she initiated it.
Giddy from exhilaration and the wine, Sarah felt his heart beating against her back, his fingers tracing small circles along her waist. She wished the two of them could stay like that forever.
"It certainly is strange to be back," Jack mumbled against her neck. "After all that time being at the lodging house. I've had dreams about this place. But I'll admit, I'm glad to be out of here. I've lived in worse places."
Sarah was quiet for a moment, listening to Jack's rhythmic breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall. "Are you talking about the Refuge? David mentioned something about it."
She looked up to see Jack nod. "Guess there was a time when I didn't think I'd ever get back to the lodging house."
"What kept you going?" Sarah wondered aloud.
"My dying wish of having a bowl of meatball soup one last time."
With a small, dreamy sigh, Sarah gave him a gentle smack on the arm, prompting him to laugh. "I'm serious," she replied as he touched the tip of her nose fondly.
"Mm, she's serious," he teased, the hum of his voice against Sarah's skin sending shivers down her spine. "Besides the soup... Seeing Sophie again. Having a life. Breathing. What else could it be?" He wrapped a strong arm around her stomach, pulling her into him, his long fingers lazily finding hers and lacing them. "Never thought I'd meet someone like you."
He rearranged his body as he rested his head on the pillow, pulling Sarah toward him again with his chin atop her head. Sarah felt him fade away into a steady sleep, his fingers still intertwined with hers. And not long after, she drifted away, too.
It was around three o'clock in the morning when Sarah's dark eyes fluttered open to the sensation of something hitting the back of her leg. Eyes still blurry with sleep, she felt another slight kick and realized it was Jack, lying beside her, tossing, and turning like invisible bugs were biting him.
He slammed his arm down hard as he rolled over, smashing his hand on the nightstand. Somehow, that action didn't rouse him. Adding to Sarah's further alarm, Jack was moaning quietly, like a wounded animal. His cries became gradually louder.
Sarah laid there quietly for a moment, too stunned to say, or do anything. Was he having a nightmare? She watched him jolt up suddenly, and she thought he might be awake. But then she saw his eyes — glazed over and distant-looking, like he wasn't altogether there. He looked down at her and mumbled something unintelligible about laudanum, holding out his hand expectantly.
Sarah shook her head, confused and a bit worried. "Jack?" She whispered groggily, wiping her eyes, and pulling herself up to rest on her elbows. "What's wrong?"
He just stared back at her. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, easing her back down. His brow was furrowed in deep focus as he crossed himself and then pulled the blanket up over Sarah's face, getting up from the bed. Sarah pushed the blanket away and sat up completely.
"Jack..." She called after him softly, watching the young man open the door and shuffle stiffly into the hallway. "Jack, come back to bed."
But he didn't seem to hear her. Sarah quickly got out of bed and wrapped her shawl around her thin nightgown, following quietly.
He turned the corner, the floor creaking under his movements, mumbling incoherently to himself, almost sounding like he was about to cry.
"Jack," Sarah tried again, reaching for his hand but again it was as if he didn't see or hear her. She watched as he opened the front door and disappeared into the warm shadowy night without shoes or a light. Nervously, she tiptoed outside, wondering what he could be doing.
That's when she almost tripped over something in the street not far from the door.
She looked down to find Jack, curled up in the gutter, mumbling something repeatedly. "I want to go home," he has crying, still looking out of it. He flinched when Sarah touched the side of his face. She knelt beside him and brought his head into her lap. "I want to go home."
She hushed him, smoothing his hair gently. "You are home. You are home."
Jack grabbed onto her wrist, staring up at her a bit mistrustfully.
"I... need...I need laudanum," he mumbled in that strong New York accent, his words coming out jumbled and breathy.
"You need laudanum?" She asked in confusion, wiping the stray tears from his cheeks. He looked up at her and nodded painfully. And then it dawned on Sarah that he was in a trance, acting out an alcohol-fused nightmare and had no idea what he was saying or doing.
"Yeah."
"Why do you need laudanum?" She asked as he scrunched up his eyebrows in a panic. He looked like a little boy who'd just been scolded, his lip trembling as he reached up and touched her nose gently, then lazily dragged his fingers down to touch her lips. "What is it, Jack? What's wrong?"
"I'm sad," He whispered, still trapped in the nightmare. Sarah thought about getting someone to come help her, but the minute she started to pull away, he grabbed at her hand tighter. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. It hurts," he cried, his voice breaking.
"Where? Where does it hurt?" She asked, her breath hitching in her throat at the look of absolute devastation on his face.
He took her hand drowsily and placed it on his chest, his hand over hers. She felt the slow beat of his heart. "It hurts right here," he cried, holding her hand as if afraid she'd slip away. "My friends, they're dead because of me. And now I'm crying, and I need laudanum."
Sarah couldn't quite make out what he was saying given how mumbled it was.
"Jack, hey," Sarah heard a soothing girl's voice say from behind her. "It's time for you to come inside now."
Sarah looked up from Jack to see his sister's silhouette from the darkened doorway, her hair loose and messy, her face pale and drowsy. She walked over and knelt beside her older brother, brushing her hand gently across his forehead. This effect seemed to calm Jack, although he was still shaking, looking up at Sarah worriedly.
Sophie gave the girl a knowing look.
"Is he okay? Should I get a doctor?" Sarah asked Sophie quietly, her dark eyes wide with worry.
Instead, Sophie just gave Sarah a sad smile, and Sarah realized that this probably wasn't the first time Jack had done this.
"Bad memories. Ever since his time in the Refuge," Sophie replied, tracing a finger along his forehead. "It haunts his dreams." She turned back to her brother. He'd closed his eyes once again in Sarah's lap. "Jack, it's Sophie," she whispered into his ear.
"Should we wake him up?" Sarah asked in vain.
Sophie shook her head. "No, it's better if he sleeps," she replied, and then began to hum a little tune quietly, one that seemed to open Jack's eyes but not bring him back to earth.
A little smile formed face upon seeing her, his eyes no longer stormy and wild as he breathed out in awed disbelief, "Sophie?"
"Yes Jack, it's me," she hummed, taking his hand gently from Sarah's. "I'm here to bring you back home, okay?"
He gave a faint nod, allowing the two girls to pull him up and help him stumble back into the Hall. As Sarah helped him lay down on the bed, Sophie rearranged the pillows so he could sleep more comfortably. Jack had fallen back asleep now, though his expression looked anxious.
Then she turned to Sarah with a smile that was like Jack's. "Come on," She said with a jerk of her head toward the door, gesturing for Sarah to follow. They went into the small kitchen, and Sophie got a teacup from the cabinet shelf.
Medda emerged sleepily into the kitchen, alerted by all the noise. She was wrapped in a kimono. Her hair was piled high atop her head. Sarah had been relatively intimidated by Medda, the way she'd dominate the conversation and ask so blunt questions. But Sarah could chalk that up to the wine.
When Medda saw the girl brewing tea, she seemed to know exactly what it was for. Turning to Sarah, she began with a hoarse voice but a friendly smile, "Jack's having another one of his bad dreams, is he? Poor dear. Tea won't do much, but I could give him a little laudanum, if she'd let me—" Medda had caught Sophie's sharp stare and stopped. "Tea will do."
Sarah managed a small nod and a nervous smile, although she didn't entirely understand what had just happened. But based on both Medda's and Sophie's expressions, it was something they didn't want to talk about in front of her.
"You love my Jack, don't you?" Medda asked Sarah, changing the subject as she moved to brush Sarah's hair behind her ear. Sarah could smell the rosemary oil on Medda's warm wrists, the lavender soap on her sleeve. "You're just a doll."
"Oh, I... I'm very fond of him." Sarah blushed as she poured the water and fresh elderberries into the little blue saucepan, watching as Sophie sprinkled in turmeric and cinnamon. Did she love him? Sarah wasn't sure. It was too soon to answer such a question. But she hoped she hadn't upset Sophie or Medda with her answer.
After the water was brought to a boil, Medda disappeared back into the corridor, retrieving something from her room. Meanwhile, Sarah and Sophie sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes while the tea simmered. Sophie sighed softly. "I'm sorry about her. She means well, but she can be..."
"I understand," Sarah said, her encouraging smile breaking the tension.
"Here now, Sarah," Medda said upon returning. "Give me your hand."
Sarah shot Sophie a questioning glance but let Medda take her right hand to study. Medda smoothed her palm with the rosemary oil. "Jack will like it."
"He likes rosemary?" Sarah asked, slightly amused and curious. "It does smell lovely."
Medda gave her a wink, the wrinkles around her lips softening into a small grin, revealing dimples that would have been more prominent in her younger years. "No, it'll make your hands nice and soft," she replied, her doe eyes twinkling warmly, tracing Sarah's fingers and massaging her hand gently. Then she did the same to the opposite hand. "Your hands are so small, so doll-like. I bet he likes how that feels when you touch him," she said with another wink, as if Sarah was meant to know what she was on about. "So, tell me, Sarah. Woman to woman. Is he a good lover?"
Sarah scrunched up her eyebrows and tilted her head in confusion. "I'm sorry?"
Meanwhile, Sophie practically choked on the tea she had tested to see if it was warm enough, not wanting any part in this conversation.
Busying herself to ignore Medda's words, Sophie took the saucepan off the stove to let it cool, and then stirred in a generous amount of honey.
Sarah watched her and then shifted her focus back to Medda with a nervous smile. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, you're good. You are really good," Medda laughed and shook her head. She repeated Sarah's response in a mock-frightened voice. "I don't know what you mean." She broke out into another fit of giggles, patting Sarah's hand. "Don't be flippant. Now out with it. What kind of things does he like you to do?"
At Sarah's silence, Sophie spoke up. "Sarah, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."
Medda made a 'tsk' sound. "Of course, she wants to. She's just being coy," she turned back to Sarah with a mischievous smile on her once-angelic features. "Don't be shy. What's your favorite way to ride our Cowboy?"
"Oh, God," Sophie cringed, pouring the tea into the ceramic cup, and gestured with her head for Sarah to bring it to Jack. "Let her be, Medda. For my sake."
Medda sighed, still laughing. "I'm just making sure my boy is taken care of. The best way to get rid of his nightmares is to give him something else to think about," she said, nudging Sarah, taking her hand again. "Relieve that tension. Make him forget everything but you," she sighed in a sing-song voice.
Medda gave Sophie a soft kiss goodnight on the forehead before wandering back into the hallway. Sarah exchanged a look with Sophie and quickly made her way out of the kitchen with the cup of tea.
Jack stirred slightly as Sarah sat down beside him, cup in hand.
"Sarah?" He asked, his voice crackly and strained. "What are you doing?"
Sarah hushed him, wanting to smile at the way his little nose bunched up in confusion and his eyebrows furrowed as they often did. "You were tossing and turning, that's all," she said softly as he sat up. "I made you some tea."
"Oh," he wiped his hand over his tired face. "I didn't mean to wake you."
He took the cup from her, wrapping his large hands around the warm pottery and inhaling the herbal steam. "You made this?"
"Well, your sister helped a lot," she said, ruffling a hand through his hair as he dipped his tongue into the liquid.
"Thank you," he murmured into the cup, taking a little sip, and reveling in the taste. He leaned over and set the cup on the nightstand, and then shifted to pull her into his arms.
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I'm always here for you. I won't ever leave," Sarah said, hearing his heart with her head snuggled against his chest. She felt her own eyes water with tears at the thought of the pain he was suppressing, the kind he didn't want her to see. "I just need you to know that."
Jack didn't say anything. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, burying his face in her hair.
"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered as he rocked her gently, and then he noticed her tears.
"Oh, don't cry," he said, peppering her head and forehead with little kisses. It was the most he'd touched her, and it made Sarah's heartbeat quicken. "I've gotcha. You're okay," he whispered soothingly, his lips grazing her temple.
Sarah thought about how quickly it had all flipped. One moment she was holding him, and the next moment he was holding her.
"Jack, do you want me to..." Sarah stumbled over the words in a whisper, thinking about what Medda said. She stopped herself, not entirely sure what she was saying.
Jack leaned down to hear her better. "What? What's the matter?"
Sarah swallowed and tried again, refusing to meet Jack's eyes. "Do you want me to...touch you?" The words were so foreign to Sarah that the question sounded stilted and unsure.
Jack tried to smile, a bit confused as to what she meant by that. "I'm touching you right now," He said, continuing to stroke her hair.
"No, I mean, do you want me to touch you there," she whispered, looking down at the material covering his crotch. "I don't mind. You'll just have to show me what to—"
Jack breathed out from his nose in somewhat of a soft laugh. He shook his head, placing another kiss on her hair. "No, Sarah, that's okay," he hummed, cradling her as the rain outside bounced off the roof.
"But Jack, won't it help you?" Sarah asked uncertainly, already blushing in embarrassment. "Take your mind off of...certain things."
Jack gave a rueful smile, scrunching his eyebrows and searching for the right response. "Having you here is enough," he mumbled, wondering how she'd arrived at such a conclusion. He knew it was something she hadn't produced on her own. "Who told you different?"
Sarah was quiet for a second. "No one," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "But you'd tell me if you wanted me to?"
It felt like a loaded question, and Jack knew Sarah hadn't meant for it to be. Either way he chose to answer, Jack felt he'd be putting Sarah in a strange position. "I—" He frowned, exhaling slowly. "Mm-hm," he managed with a nod, not wanting to embarrass her further.
Goddammit, Sophie, Jack thought as Sarah drifted off to sleep. She must've said something, done something to make Sarah say that. In anger, Jack decided it would be wise to have a chat with his sister in the morning.