A/N: In case you're confused where this scene is coming from, it's a direct continuation of the last chapter, which cut off on a cliffhanger. This picks up where that conversation left off, so if you need a recap, back up to chapter 10 and start from the scene break. Onto the story!

Andrew took the proffered help and gave the newcomer a half-hearted smile. "Thank you," he said through a sniff, "Who are you?"

"Name's Jack. Jack Kelly." Jack extended a hand to the kid sprawled on the ground and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled a second and Jack helped him to stand as he steadied the crutch under his arm again. "Where are you going?"

Andrew squinted at Jack to make sure he could trust him. He looked kind enough, and Andrew was more inclined to trust another kid who was alone on the streets than any strange adult. "I was looking for the train station."

"Grand Central?"

"Yeah!"

Jack looked around for any adults that looked like they might belong with the kid, and upon finding none nearby, gave him a puzzled look and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "That's all the way uptown 'nother hours walk! You got folks with 'ya? Might be easier to take a carriage if you're in a rush to catch a train."

Andrew shook his head. "I'm in no rush, and I don't have parents here. I was looking for them, they're going West and I wanted to follow them." He paused, and then added, "I'm not an orphan."

"Where West?"

"I'm not sure now. The plan was to head to Santa Fe, but I'm not sure if they're still there, or if I can buy a ticket anymore."

Jack nodded slowly as he paused and he tried to make sense of this other boy's story, as disjointed and stripped of context as it was, before deciding to focus on the moment of the fact that they were stuck in the street and getting rather too wet for his liking. "Then what good is walking all the way to upper 'Hattan gonna get you, Crutchie?"

Andrew opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, taken aback at the sudden odd nickname. "Why did you call me Crutchie?"

Jack shrugged. "You didn't tell me any other. You have a crutch. Seemed fittin'."

"Oh. My name's Andrew Morris."

"Nice t'meet ya, Andrew." Jack spit into his hand and extended it to Andrew. He only hesitated a second before spitting in his own hand and shaking Jack's. Jack made a satisfied nod and smiled, then rubbed his arms and turned on his heel. "Say, it's freezing and I'm heading back uptown too. Why don't you walk with me for a while? I can point ya in the direction of the station."

Andrew nodded and started alongside him. They walked a moment in companionable silence until Andrew spoke up again. "You can call me Crutchie if you want."

"Really?"

"I like it." Andrew – Crutchie – wasn't sure just what it was he liked about the nickname so much. Perhaps it was the feeling of familiarity it gave him to the relative-stranger that was Jack. Maybe it was because losing his crutch was what brought this new friend to him in the first place, or maybe it reminded him of an old friend. Nonetheless, he liked it, and he smiled at his new friend.

Jack grinned back and adjusted the heavy bag over his shoulder. "You got a job, Crutchie?"

"No. Aren't children supposed to be in school?"

Jack gave a short humorless laugh. "Not if you wanna eat, or have a place to stay at night. You've not been on the street long, that's clear."

"I don't really belong on the street," Crutchie said before casting him a confused look. "You don't either."

"Sure I do. I'm a newsie." Jack's face darkened and he shook his hands to get the rain off of them, or perhaps to shake off some unhappy memory, before shoving them back in his pockets. "Say, why don't you come back to the lodging house with me. I'm sure Niner would let you stay for the night, and we can get you selling first thing tomorrow to earn some money for that train ticket!"

"Really?!" Crutchie brightened at the idea of a dry place to spend the night. "You'd do that?"

"Course, Crutchie! Come on. You've gotta meet the other guys. I'm sure you'll get along great."

They made their way along a line of imposing buildings that Jack informed him was called Newspaper Row. He tried to look around, squinting through the rain to try and make out any landmarks he could use to retrace his steps if he needed to later on. Jack pointed out something called the distribution floor across the street, but they passed it and continued along the sidewalk which eventually brought them to a ramshackle several-story building with a heavy wooden door. Jack pulled it open, led Crutchie up the steps of the lodging house, and opened the door to the bunkroom. Crutchie barely made it half a step through the door before being promptly hit in the face with a towel.

"You goof! That's not Jack!"

"ah, sorry!"

Crutchie stumbled forward in confusion before fighting his way out of the cloth and looking around for the offending culprit, likely the boy with sandy blonde hair and freckles who was trying, and failing, to hide a smug smile, and the guilty-looking redhead sitting beside him on the bottom bunk of the nearest bed. "Thanks!" Crutchie replied with a good-natured smile. He scrubbed it over his head to dry his hair and face. "I'm drenched."

The smug boy gave him a real grin now and turned to address Jack. "Who'd the cat drag in?"

"This is Crutchie!" Jack announced proudly. "He's staying with us tonight, long as Niner says it's ok."

"Who's Niner?" Crutchie whispered to Jack. He looked around the room for anyone who might fit the description.

"Niner's the captain of us newsies. He's still out but he should be back soon," the blonde kid explained. "I'm Racetrack by the way." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the redhead. "And this is Albert."

"You gonna sell with us tomorrow?" Albert asked. Jack took the towel from Crutchie and moved to another room – what he guessed was the washroom – to put it away. Crutchie nodded and he grinned. "I hope I'm with you then – you'll be a good attention grabber, I can tell."

Crutchie moved to the bed across from them and sat down, leaning his crutch against the frame of the bunk bed. What a relief to finally rest. "Oh? how's that?"

"Lotsa kids out there got limps – I ain't ever seen a newsie with a real crutch before," Race said. "you seem to walk pretty good with it though."

Crutchie gave him a smug look of his own and fired back almost on instinct from teasing Clara, though the irony of his currently aching legs didn't escape him. "Betcha I'm the fastest. You slowpokes won't be able to keep up with me running the length of the city."

"Oh yeah? How about a race?" Race challenged. He jutted his chin up in a cocky grin but had to laugh at the new kid's spunk.

"I came all the way from Brooklyn today. You wouldn't stand a chance."

This earned the laughs and the respect of the others and Andrew leaned back against the bed frame in self-satisfied contentment at having made two more new friends. Jack emerged from the washroom, dry now with mussed up hair, and came to join them.

"How many papes did ya sell today, Jack?" Albert asked.

"Thirty-five." He took the soggy newspapers out of his bag and dumped them in the trash bin along with the other's unsold wares. "Can't even save them for paper neither, what with the rain."

"That's better than I's got," Race scowled, "Ended up comin' back early, and tossing some freebees to the bums by sheepshead 'cause I didn't want to carry them all the way."

"Guess a lot of us had the same idea," Albert remarked. Though Crutchie had only talked to these three, the room was filling with other boys as they trickled in from the outdoors, and he'd noticed a few looks cast in his direction.

"Who's all here?" Jack asked. He stood to take a headcount, quietly muttering different names and marking off people on his fingers until he was satisfied that most of them had returned safely. "Looks like everyone."

"Yeah, you twos were some of the last," Race verified.

"You think Niner's still out sellin'?"

"Not anymore I ain't, not in that sludge that they call a street," came a voice from the doorway. An older Newsie – about 16, Crutchie guessed – with curly brown hair and a crooked nose pushed his way into the room. He immediately busied himself with dumping out his bag and setting it up to air out on the nearest bunk. He shrugged off his jacket, hung it over the bed with his bag, and rolled up his sleeves to reveal several scars marring his bare arms. "Jack, you said everyone's back already? Hey Jeb, throw me a towel, would ya?"

"Yeah. I dunno how many of 'em got something to eat yet, I hadn't had the chance to ask," Jack answered. Niner nodded in acknowledgment as he caught the requested towel and started drying himself off.

"How'd yas make out?" He still hadn't noticed Crutchie, who was silently observing the conversation from behind Jack. He finished with the towel and threw it back to a tall newsie – Jeb? – before turning to the two solemn faces of Race and Albert and sighing. "You know what? Don't tell me, I don't wanna know. It can't be good."

Race made a vague noise of annoyed agreement and flopped over on the bed to lay on his back. The bedframe squeaked in rebellion at the movement. Jack stood up. "Hey Niner, I know it wasn't a great day of selling, but do ya think we could bunk an extra person for a night?"

Niner looked up in a moment of confusion before his gaze alighted on Crutchie sitting on the bunk. His eyes widened and he glanced from him to Jack to the crutch, before softening his look and smiling at the newcomer. "' Course. I think we got an extra bed, or else some of us can share."

"Hello! I'm-" Crutchie started to say as he struggled to stand up so he could properly address their leader. Niner held out a hand and moved toward him instead, motioning that he could stay sitting, and bent down next to him instead.

"Why don't you sleep here? Jack'll take the top bunk. Give me a minute to get these others settled and ready for bed. I'll find you some things for the night, and then tomorrow morning after a night's rest, you and me, we'll have a chat, alright?"

"Alright! Thanks again for everything!"

"Not a problem, kiddo." Niner moved on as he ruffled Crutchie's hair, and Jack moved to help get his things for the night. He quietly watched the evening proceedings of the lodging house as Niner moved between the rows of bunks, checking in with each of the other boys. A smaller boy threw himself from the top bunk onto his shoulders. Niner caught him and threw him into his own bunk with a laugh, before tossing a pillow after him with no uncertain orders to go to sleep. Jack returned with a spare blanket and an apple he procured from somewhere that Crutchie took gratefully before Jack joined Niner in the rounds around the lodging house. Before long, the rambunctious newsboys settled into a quiet hum of whispered conversations as they started to fall asleep.

Crutchie spread out the threadbare blanket over himself and rolled over to listen to the city as night fell. He couldn't have imagined that he'd end up here when he started out last night, but an odd sense of both exhaustion and peace washed over him as he laid among the friendly strangers who had taken him in without a second thought. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would only bring new changes and more challenges, but now? He would be ready.

A/N: They're inevitable! Because this story starts 8 years before the Strike, the dynamics of the lodging house are a little different from in the play and you'll get some more information on the new (to you) faces and the way things generally work in two chapter's time. Next, we'll hear from Clara. I hope you're enjoying this story, thanks for reading! :)