Title: Cold Walls, Cold Words, and a Frayed Piece of Twine

Chapter: 2- Should I Swallow Up the Night?

Rating: PG

Synopsis: As David watches Teddy Roosevelt's carriage drive away with Jack in tow, he can't help feeling a regretful despair over the fact that he never told Jack how he really felt, even when he had the perfect opportunity to the night before, when they were alone after the printing of the "Newsies Banner".

Category: Jack/David slash

POV: David

Feedback: Any and all constructive criticism would be lovely, whether e-mailed or left in a review.

Disclaimer: About the only thing I own in this fic is the piece of twine.

Notes: Here it is, chapter two. As it's looking now, this should turn out to be about four chapters, but that could change, depending on how this goes. I have a general idea of what's going to happen next, but it hasn't been written yet. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out fairly soon. Enjoy, and please review, if you get the chance! And massive thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter one! I greatly, greatly appreciate it.

Cold Walls, Cold Words, and a Frayed Piece of Twine

By Angel of Harmony/Harmony/Jen

"I did it for you."

I looked up, temporarily tearing my gaze away from the twine to squint at Jack with an expression of complete perplexity.

"What do you mean, 'you did it for me'?"

Jack sat up a little straighter against the cold wall, shifting his knees.

"Well, you and all da udda boys, really. But mainly you."

He wasn't making himself any clearer, and I told him as much.

"I don't understand."

"Well, you know that Pulitzah had me up in 'is office, right?"

"Right."

"Well, when I was up there an' all, ol' Joe, he didn' scare me one bit. He tried real hard to make an impression on me, scare me right outa me boots, an' I didn' heah a woid of it."

"Until he offered you a new suit and a free trip to Santa Fe, right?" I interjected sarcastically. My anger was rising again.

"Jeez, Dave! Can't you jus' let me finish?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "And no, that ain't what made me change my mind. Even when 'e spouted all that bull about da money, I just spit it back in 'is face. I wasn't about ta sell youse out for a few lousy bucks an' a train ticket."

I looked down again, ashamed of the anger that still churned in my stomach.

"So what did make you change your mind?"

"Well, Joe, he decided to change his angle aftah the money thing didn' woik out. He started shootin' all this bull about how he'd break da strike, like 'e always said. But this time, 'e started talkin' 'bout what'd happen ta all da boys if the strike did end. How they'd all get sent ta the refuge. An' at foist I thought 'e was jus' bluffin', so I didn't pay no attention. But 'e jus' kept on goin', an' then 'e mentioned you. How da refuge'd take you, an' how your fam'ly wouldn' have no way ta make money, an' all that. An' I still wanted to think 'e was bluffin', so I left. But then I saw you, and I thought about what it'd really mean if you got sent ta da refuge. I know what jail's like; I know what they do to ya there. An' I jus' couldn't let that happen ta you."

"So you thought I was too weak to take it." My words were sharp and cold.

"No, Dave. You'se jus' about the strongest guy I know. But nobody should have ta go through what they do to ya at da refuge. It's not that ya couldn' take it. It's that I didn' want ya to hafta take it." Jack stared me right in the eye as he said it, making sure that I understood the naked honesty of his words.

I knew he was telling the truth, and that scared me. Because knowing that he really did care, knowing that I really did mean something to him, well… it just made it even harder to contain all the emotions I'd been hiding. And I couldn't let myself express the… whatever unknown, dangerous thing it was that I felt. So, instead, I turned to my tried-and-true "safe" reaction: anger.

"Alright, Jack. I believe you." My voice was hoarse, my eyes narrowed. "But if you thought I was so strong, what did you think would happen when you scabbed? You couldn't have thought too highly of me if you didn't think I could handle leading the strike without you." It was a legitimate complaint. What had he been thinking? Did he really think I was too weak to lead?

Jack bit his lip, then stood up, brushing the dust off his pants and fiddling with the rope at his belt. He was stalling.

"Well?" I prompted, mimicking his actions. If I was going to challenge him, it was going to be face to face.

"I… well…" he stuttered, not meeting my eyes. "I mean, you and Spot nevah got along too good. I guess I figered youse would fight or somethin', and then it'd all fall apart…" He trailed off, still staring at the ground in the direction of that same, sad little piece of twine.

It was a weak excuse. "You're lying. You know Spot and I've learned to work together, especially since we're fighting for the same thing. It's a mutual respect, and you know it." This time my anger was genuine. He'd been so honest a moment ago. The return of his lies stung like a whip.

Jack seemed to realize he'd made a mistake, and he stared into my eyes, silently begging me for the forgiveness he'd craved at the start of the conversation.

"You're right, Dave. I shouldn' be lyin' anymoah. Not ta you. But da truth is, I guess I jus'… overestimated myself, or somethin'. I didn' think you was anythin' less. I jus' thought I was somethin' moah."

"So you're admitting that you're a pompous egotist?" Why was I saying these things? I didn't mean them. I wasn't really angry. But still, I allowed the harsh words to spill from my mouth. "You admit that you thought the strike couldn't possibly survive without you? That you were the single-handed savior of the newsies, and I was nothing but a walking mouth?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean…" Jack's hand was on my shoulder now, gripping me tightly as he searched my cold eyes. "Yeah, I was self-centahed. Yeah, I exaggerated my woith. But I nevah, evah thought you was anythin' less."

"Well, what about when you came back? When you felt the need to 'save' me from the Delanceys. I could have handled it. I could have protected my sister and brother. I didn't need you to swoop down and be the knight in shining armor," I spat. I was lying, and I knew it. If Jack hadn't been there, I'd probably be six feet under by now, or at least sporting a sling or two. But the thought that Jack considered me to be weak was driving me insane, and I had to prove him wrong. I wasn't weak. I wasn't.

Jack had stepped away from me, and that's when I noticed that he was shaking. Really shaking, not just shivering or something. And when he finally spoke, although I could tell he was trying to make his words calm and cautious, they came out as a half-shouted, strangled sob.

"Don't you undastand?" His eyes were wide, and, I noticed, slightly glassy. "Don't you get why I did all this? Why I couldn' let you go ta the refuge, why I scabbed, why I soaked the Delanceys? I didn't do it 'cause I thought you was weak! I did it, Dave, because I'm in love with you!"

I stood perfectly still, staring at him with wide eyes. He was breathing slowly, not daring to be the first to move, waiting apprehensively for my reaction.

The information wasn't processing in my mind. He… no. He couldn't. He couldn't really mean what he'd just said.

"Wh-what did you say?" I finally managed to stutter, breaking the silence.

Jack looked down, taking several deep breaths before speaking. "I love you, Dave. I'm in love with you. That's why I couldn' let ya go ta the refuge, that's why I scabbed. Somehow, in some way I don' really undastand, I'se fallen in love with you. And I couldn' bear ta see you get hoit."

My mind swirled. Suddenly, I felt faint and dizzy, and I leaned against the stone wall for support. Thoughts and emotions were whirling through my brain, and I couldn't even begin to sort them out.

He loved me. He was in love with me.

Could I love him too? Was that what I'd been trying to hide, lock away? Should I tell him that? Maybe it could be good. Maybe…

But, no! It was wrong, so wrong. I couldn't… Besides, Jack deserved better. Better than me. And what about Sarah? I couldn't do this to her. No. This was bad.

Later, when it was too late, I would realize that those frenzied thoughts were just excuses. That I should have told Jack what I felt right then, confessed, gotten everything out in the open. But I was scared; I admit it now. I didn't know how to react. And so, in a fit of fear and confusion, I simply continued to act the way I had been acting: angry.

Jack was still looking down at the floor when I began to speak, my words spitting out through clenched teeth.

"You call that an excuse?"

Slowly, he looked up, shock and confusion clouding his eyes. "What?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

"You heard me." I cringed inwardly at my harshness. Why was I doing this to him? Why? But I couldn't stop. "That's no excuse. I don't care why you did it. You still scabbed. You still betrayed us. You still thought I was weak."

Jack's jaw dropped open. He looked about ready to cry, and that scared me. Never had I imagined that Jack Kelly, our godlike leader, could be capable of tears. "But I just told you I'm in love with you," he practically squeaked, obviously trying to retain what was left of his composure.

"I don't care." The words were like a slap, not just to his face, but to my own. What was wrong with me? Why was I intentionally hurting the one person I cared about more than anyone else? Finally, I couldn't take the conversation anymore, and I quickly continued, "Look, we have to deliver these papes. We have a strike to lead. The newsies are depending on us. Let's go."

And with that, I grabbed a stack of papes and climbed out the basement window, grinding my shoe into the piece of twine that still lay forlornly on the ground as I went. I knew Jack was following me, but I didn't dare look back to check, too afraid to see the pain in his eyes, the pain that I myself had caused.