Cold Walls, Cold Words and a Frayed Piece of Twine

by Angel of Harmony

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. Slash, Javid. [Complete]

4. Why Don't You and I

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

Chapter: 4- Why Don't You and I

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: It's finished! Finally! First of all, I want to apologize a million times over for the extreme amount of time (nearly 6 months) this chapter was delayed. I had a really, really bad case of writer's block over the summer, and the beginning of school left me with absolutely no free time. Also, my old computer temporarily crashed, and, though I didn't lose the story, I had to wait until the computer was fixed to work on this again, as the half of the chapter I had already written was stored on it. Now, finally, I'm done with the story, and I hope you all enjoy it. This is the longest thing I've ever written from start to finish, and I'm proud of that fact. And I apologize again, many more times than I can possibly express, for the delay. I promise, it won't let it happen again! So, anyway, enjoy. Shoutouts will follow.

P.S. This story marks the end of my overuse of the "New Yawk" accent. Frankly, it drives me up the wall, and the only reason I used it in this chapter is for consistency's sake. Believe me, by the end, I was ready to rip out the apostrophe key on my computer and stomp on it. I realize that others can pull the accent off well, and I salute you, but I am not one of those people. So, no more accent for me.

Ok. Now, onto the story.

Cold Walls, Cold Words, and a Frayed Piece of Twine
By Angel of Harmony/Harmony/Jen

Still standing in the slowly emptying square, I brush furiously at my eyes, willing myself to stop my tears before they come. Les and Sarah have detached themselves from my side, but they still stand nearby, their eyes red and glassy from crying.

The dust from the departing carriage has completely settled by now, and I know that staring at the spot that I last saw it won't bring him back. I tear my eyes away, finally, but I can't do the same with my thoughts.

But you have to. I berate myself. You're the only leader left. You may have won the strike, but the newsies still need you.

I sigh, resigned, then smile weakly, pushing back my sweaty curls. "Well, what are we waiting for?" I call out, catching the newsies' attention. "Let's get our papes!"

My voice is hollow. I'm sure they can all detect my lack of enthusiasm, but no one says a word. I suppose they understand, at least partially, how I feel. They may be used to a constant stream of friends coming and going, but I'm not. Jack was- is- my best friend, and the boys know that. They don't need to know just how much more than that it was to understand my melancholy.

But it was more than that. He loved me. I loved- love- him. And if I hadn't been such a coward, such a fool, I could have told him that. I had the power, and what did I do with it? Nothing.

And now he's gone. He's really, actually gone. I don't think the shock has fully reached me yet. The word seems like some foreign language in my mind; it doesn't make sense. Gone. Jack. Gone. And all because of me.

By this point, I've reached the window of the distribution center. Exuding false confidence, I march up to the counter, staring defiantly into the friendly-seeming eyes of the new manager.

"A hundred papes." My voice is cool and confident as I slap down my fifty-cent piece, and the newsies around me begin to talk excitedly, Mush and Race offering words of encouragement as they slap me on the back.

I wish I could feel the carefree happiness they feel now. I want to experience the exhilarating rush of victory that should be running through my bloodstream. We won the strike. We won.

But, no matter how hard I try, I can't look at it that way. We may have won this, but I've lost something much more important. And, at this moment, that thought is all that my brain can process.

I feel lost. Lost and aimless and shocked and angry and defeated and empty. Part of me hates Jack for leaving. Sure, he may have hated me, for what I said. But how could he leave the others? He didn't hate them. How could he leave Les and Sarah, who love him, or Mush and Blink and Race and Crutchy and all of his other friends?

But this thought just leads me back to my own self-hatred. Yeah, he left them. But he left because of me. So I'm the reason that Les and Sarah are wiping away their tears, I'm the reason that the newsies have lost their leader and friend. If I hadn't… God, what is wrong with me? Why did I have to do all I did, say all I did? Why?

I am a miserable excuse for a human being. There's no other explanation.

Mush nudges my arm, and I look up blearily. Realizing that I've been standing at the counter this whole time, staring down at my papes, I begin to move out of the way. The boys say nothing; they probably think I've just been basking in the victorious satisfaction of getting a hundred papes for only fifty cents, and I make no move to correct that thought. The false smile I've managed to keep on my face until now has crumbled, and I turn away from the others, hoping to conceal the emptiness of my expression.

I feel dead.

Suddenly, a resurgence of cheers hits my ears, welling up from the streets. Not sure of how much more jubilation I'll be able to stand, I ignore it, keeping my head turned away from the crowd. But the cheers are persistent, and suddenly Mush is grabbing frantically at my arm, pointing into the crowd.

"It's Jack!" Racetrack screams over the din. Mush grips my shoulders even harder and echoes Race's declaration as I turn my head in the direction of the noise. No, they're lying, I think. Jack is gone. They're just playing some kind of cruel, cruel joke.

But if he's gone, why is Teddy Roosevelt's coach back in the square? Why are the newsies swarming toward it like the stampedes of buffalo that I've read about in the dime store novels? And why can I see that oh-so-familiar sandy brown head rising above the mob like that of some ancient god?

He's back. I can barely believe it, can barely register the fact, but I know my eyes aren't lying. Jack is really back.

My heart beats faster as Jack turns to the newsies, waving as he climbs down from the carriage. Still unable to fully accept the scene before me, I fleetingly ponder that I must be dreaming, but I know that's not possible; the newsies are swarming over to him now, and I can hear his name being called out by a hundred different voices.

I'm sure the shock is evident in the half-smile planted on my face, because at this moment, I have no idea what to think or feel. I'm overcome with happiness, thankfulness, and joyful surprise, but an equal part of me is suddenly scared, worried, apprehensive. What will he do, when he sees me? Will he even speak to me? Will I be able to make things right?

And, on top of this all, an even smaller part of me, a truly fearful part, worries that, maybe, this really is too good to be true. Maybe he's just back to say goodbye, to do one last thing before he leaves for good. Maybe, after this last fleeting, tantalizing, illusory moment ends, I'll still have to face the fact that I'll never see the man I love again.

I will not let that happen. Not this time.

He's saying something to the Governor, who smiles, and then, suddenly, he's looking straight at me, a strange expression on his face. I try to control my own expression as he makes his way through the swarming crowd, greeting dozens of cheering newsies and bending down to ruffle the mousy head of Les, who has latched himself firmly to his waist. Finally, disentangling himself from Les, Jack stops about five feet from where I stand, still on the platform.

"So, how's the headline today?" He's still staring at me with that indecipherable expression, and I'm not sure what to think. Is he trying to make things right? Or is he simply playing his part, pretending to be his friendly self for the sake of the others?

With an unsure half-grin, pulling my hat nervously out of my pocket and over my hair as I speak, I respond with the only thing that makes sense, an echo of the words Jack spoke those two lifetime-long weeks ago.

"Headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."

This, of course, elicits yet another wave of cheers from the mob, but I ignore it, focusing instead on Jack's still-unreadable brown eyes. "Come here, Davey," he says, smiling slightly and holding out his hand. I grin back, still hesitant, before spitting into my own hand, and we slowly shake, our eyes still locked.

All right, I think. So, maybe Jack doesn't hate me. He wouldn't spitshake if he did. I'll get my chance. Everything will be fine.

But I'm still hesitant, and, I believe, not without good reason. Jack isn't looking at me now; instead, he's looking away, through the crowd, and something about the intensity of his search worries me, frightens me.

Suddenly, Sarah bursts through the crowd, looking flushed and expectant. I realize, almost offhandedly, that Jack has stopped his concentrated search and is looking at her intently.

Then, without warning, before I can say a single word or make a single movement, the man I love is putting his arms around my sister, dipping her slightly, and kissing her full on the mouth.

My eyes widen, but, swallowing the rising lump in my throat, I make a weak attempt at a smile. My head is spinning, and I have absolutely no idea what to think, but I try to control my face and emotions. The boys are cheering louder than ever now, thumping Jack on the back and making catcalls, and I'm thrust into the middle of it, with a front-row view of the scene that is making me more ill with each passing second.

Why is he kissing her? Above all other emotions, I feel an unfathomable confusion; beyond betrayal, beyond hurt, beyond shock, I'm utterly perplexed. This is the boy who, just last night, told me, with tear-filled eyes, that he loved me. Me.

So why, in God's name, is his tongue in my sister's mouth?

I can't even think. My emotions are uncontrolled; my mind is a tangled mess. After all that I've experienced in the last two weeks, all of the new information and situations I've had to process, adapt to, and cope with, from becoming a newsie to starting a strike to falling in love with my new best friend, it is this moment that has left me the most confused and bewildered. Try as I might, I can't think of a single explanation for the scene laid out before me.

As my brain continues to swirl, Jack and Sarah finally separate, and I find myself thrown into a massive group hug, pressed in even harder on all sides. Jack is turned away from me and I can't see his eyes or expression, but Sarah is positively beaming, and I shoot her a strange half-smile, a weak attempt at the brotherly support I know she wants.

The crowd is thinning, now, as the newsies head back to the distribution center to buy the papes they'd been lined up to receive before Jack's return.

"Jack…" I begin, but my mind is still so confused that I have no idea what to say. Sarah and Les are still here, and I certainly don't want them to hear whatever I'm about to say, especially after what I've just witnessed.

Luckily, Jack, seeming to read my mind, turns to Les at that moment. "Hey, Les, how's about you go buy my papes for me, huh?" he suggests, handing Les a fifty-cent piece.

"Sure!" Les, eager to please Jack, snatches the piece immediately and runs over to the end of the long line.

Unwilling to once again miss my chance to speak, I turn to my sister. "Hey, Sarah, can you go make sure he doesn't get in any trouble? I need to talk to Jack for a minute."

Sarah seems hesitant, and I can tell she doesn't want to leave Jack so soon after their kiss. But when he, too, makes the same request, she quickly agrees and follows Les' path. Her eyes are still glowing, and, at this moment, I'm quite sure she'd be willing to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if Jack asked her to.

Now, the two of us are alone, for the first time since that awful conversation in the distribution basement. We look at each other for a few seconds, not speaking, then simultaneously step a few feet away to an alley between two of the smaller buildings in Newspaper Row. We're far enough away from the dissipating crowd for some semblance of privacy, but we still don't speak.

Leaning against the cold stone wall of one of the buildings, Jack opens his mouth, seemingly about to start the conversation. Then, a second later, he closes his mouth, looking at me to talk first.

But I can't talk first, because I have absolutely no idea what to say. My plans for this conversation had always involved spilling out my feelings amid a slew of rushed apologies, but this tactic now seems impossible. How can I tell him how I feel when he's just led the whole world to believe that he's in love with my sister?

But what if Jack really is in love with her? What if he was just confused when he talked to me; what if he really does want her?

I want to push the thoughts away, but they seem all too plausible, and that frightens me. In all of my inner turmoil, the one constant fact had always been that Jack loved me. It was my love that was up for debate, not his. And as I realize, slowly, that even that fact can be changed, my mind is thrown once again into chaos.

Jack clears his throat, seemingly taking my silence as a hint, and I look up into his face, hoping for some sort of explanation that can fix this twisted mess.

"Well, Dave, I guess I just couldn' stay away, huh?" he begins, hesitantly. His falsely cocky smile falters a bit as he looks to me for a response.

"Why'd you come back?" The question is blunt and more than a little rude, but it's all I can think of to say.

His face falls, much like it did last night, when I shattered his world with a few harsh words and drove him away.

"I… God, Dave, I'm sorry, ok? I know I scabbed, I know I betrayed youse, an' I know ya hate me for it. And I'm sorry. But I couldn' leave, I couldn' just abandon all da newsies- an' I couldn' just leave you. Even if ya do hate me." He's running his hand through his hair again, his trademark nervous habit.

"I don't hate you." My voice is tiny and quiet, but I know he can hear me.

"You don't?" He looks incredulous, but I can see the beginnings of an unsure grin spreading across his face.

I shake my head vehemently. "I don't. I never did." If nothing else is sorted out in this conversation, I need him to know this much.

Jack looks positively jubilant. "Well, tha's great, then. We can be friends again, an' sellin' partners, an' everythin'll be like it was befoah da strike, 'an-"

"Why did you kiss her?" I interrupt. If I don't ask now, I know I won't be able to regain the courage later. And I need to know. Before I say anything else, I need to know why he kissed her. Because, try as I might, I simply can't think of an explanation that makes any sort of sense.
"What?" The question seems to catch Jack unawares, and his brow creases in confusion at my sudden change of topic.

"Why did you kiss Sarah? Why did you kiss my sister?" My hands are twitching a bit as I speak, and I run them compulsively over the legs of my trousers, pretending to smooth out invisible wrinkles.

"I… well…" he stutters, scuffing his boots into the cobblestones as he searches for words. "Well, it was just a spur o' the moment thing, ya know? I was happy to be back, an' she was there, an' it jus'… happened."

"Right. 'It just happened.' Jack, I'm not stupid. Just tell me the truth." I feel hurt. After all this, after everything we've gone through, he's still lying to me?

Jack sighs. "Fine. I'm sorry, Dave. The fact is, ever'thin' I told ya last night is true. I can't deny it, an' I won'. But I know I gotta get ovah it. An' I figgered, well… yer sistah's real pretty, an' she seems ta like me... An' I thought maybe I could make myself like her, too. Be, well… noimal, an' all. Since I know you don' feel da way I do."

"That's not true."

I still don't completely understand his reasons, and I certainly don't like his willingness to use my sister. But I know I have to take this opportunity, or risk never managing to get the words out.

"What?" Jack looks up, staring at me with puzzled eyes.

"That's not true. What you said. About… about me not feeling the same way." I'm avoiding his gaze, blushing slightly.

"You mean…" His voice is full of tentative hope.

I nod, slowly. I don't have to say it.

"Oh… oh God… I…" Jack's face is pale, and he collapses against the stone wall of the building, looking like he's about to faint.

Hurriedly, I begin my frenzied explanation, the words tripping and tumbling out of my mouth as I fight to say all I need to say before I lose my nerve.

"Jack, I'm sorry. I was scared- I don't even know what I was scared of, but I was scared. I was scared out of my mind. These last two weeks have been more pressure than anything I've ever experienced, in my entire life, and when you said all that last night… I just couldn't take it. Because I couldn't admit to my feelings, couldn't add to all the pressure that was already there. So I exploded, and I yelled, and I said things I didn't mean, things I never would have said at any other time, at any other place, because they weren't true. And I hated myself for it, even then, and I hated that I was hurting you, and I didn't know what I was doing, and then I realized what I'd done, and I knew exactly what I felt, and I wanted to tell you, and fix it, and then you left, and I felt like dying, almost, and then you came back, but you were kissing Sarah, and I didn't know what to think, but now you're here and I'm sorry, I really, really am, and I… I love you."

Gasping for breath, I lean tiredly against the opposite wall, searching Jack's eyes for a reaction. For a moment, his expression remains blank; then, suddenly, his face breaks into a huge, glowing, semi-cocky grin.

"Come here, Dave," he says, and, stepping away from his wall, he wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight embrace. I look up at him, smiling just as broadly, as he tips his face forward, moving closer to my lips. At this moment, I want nothing more than to touch those lips with my own, to latch on and never, ever let go. But no. There's still one more thing he has to explain, before I'll allow myself to fall completely under his spell.

"Wait." Jack looks up, his face barely an inch from mine, and I quickly disentangle myself from his arms.

"What?" he asks. He looks slightly disappointed, and even more perplexed.

"Look," I begin, "You know I forgive you for all you did during the strike. But I can't say I'm happy that you were willing to just use Sarah like that. I mean… she's my sister, Jack! How could you do something like that, kiss her in front of everyone, when you knew you didn't love her?"

Jack seems exasperated, but I have no pity for him. I need this explanation.

"Dave…" Jack begins. "Da fact is, yeah, I didn' love her. But ya gotta believe me- I really thought I could, someday. And I nevah woulda done it if I'd known how you felt, and I nevah woulda done it if I didn't think I could make her happy. And I really did think it coulda worked. I nevah woulda shamed yer family or nothin'. I woulda stayed with her forevah. I would nevah have 'used' her. Not Sarah. Not your sistah. It's not in my charactah."

I nod, slowly. "Fine. I believe you. But what about now? What's done is done, and she's gonna expect more, after that. How are you going to fix that, without hurting her? Because I won't let you string her along."

Jack sighs, shrugging slightly. "Well, Dave, I guess I'll just tell 'er what I told you, at foist. That I got caught up in da spirit o' the moment. She won' like it, but what'm I s'posed ta do? She'd be hoit anyway, if I nevah showed any interest. Theah's really no way not to hoit 'er. But I'll try my best to let 'er down easy. And I'd nevah, evah string her along."

I nod again. It's not the best scenario, but Jack's right; there's really no alternative. My sister is a strong person, and I know she'll survive. I don't want to hurt her, of course. But there really is no other way. "Ok," I reply, finally, more to myself than to Jack. "Ok. Everything will be ok."

Jack lets out an exasperated breath. "Alright. Now, can I kiss you already?" He's tapping his foot impatiently, but the laughing smile on his face and the spark in his brown eyes betray his real emotions.

"Yes, Jack. I think you can kiss me now. I think I'd like that very much." I'm sure my eyes are sparkling, too.

"Ok, then," Jack responds, taking me back into his arms and leaning toward me once again. My eyes flutter shut as I tilt my head upward, leaning into the cool stone wall behind me, and fall, finally, into the combined bliss of victory and love.

Shoutouts:

Silver Starling:

Well, I didn't exactly continue it "right now", but I hope you don't eat me for it. Thanks for the comment, and many apologies for tormenting you!

Random Newsies Fan:

Glad you liked the story. :) Sorry I made you cry; hopefully the happy ending makes up for it.

Will (Illumina):

Heh. I'm usually much more long-winded, so writing this with such a choppy style was actually a bit of a challenge for myself. I guess I'm still better at longer sentences, though. Thanks for the constructive criticism.

Hotshot:

Eep. I hope I made the conclusion to your liking and didn't disappoint. Your compliments are very flattering. Muchas gracias.

geometrygal:

Is "implied" lip action enough? Lol. Well, I did make them happy, at least. That's good enough, right? Many thanks for the compliment.

Omni:

See, I made it all work out! No more sniffling. The boys can live happily ever after. :) Thanks for the review.

Tallia:

First of all, where did you goooo? You've completely disappeared. sniff Well, it's nice to know you liked the story. I hope you like the conclusion, if you read it. I'm really sorry for making you wait so long for it.

Kittie:

So, did the last chapter live up to your expectations? I hope you enjoyed it. This is already my view of what actually "happens" in the scenes we don't see, and I'll probably base future stories off of that background. So, it's cool to know someone else will believe the same thing. I'm glad you like the story.

The Beckster:

Glad I made you smile. And yes, woot to RENT chapter titles. :) Hope you liked the last chapter, even though it wasn't quite finished "pronto". Thanks for reading!

skinflint:

Thanks so much for the compliments; I'm really trying to work on characterization, so I'm glad you thought I did it ok. And you're welcome for the review; you definitely deserved it. And it makes me feel warm and fuzzy that I inspired someone. :) Thanks again- and woot to the RENTslash!love.

Skywise:

Thanks for being such a great supporter of my story. Your reviews made me quite happy, and I'm really glad you liked it. I'm just sorry this chapter took so long! I hope you like it. And you should im me sometime, because I just realized I've never actually spoken to you, and I'd like to. 'Cause you seem really cool. :)

B (studentnumber24601):

Wow, I never realized you were my first review. Woot to that! Your reviews really were awesome, and totally made my day. I'm glad you liked the story- your opinion means a lot to me, as I have so, so much respect and love for your writing. So the compliments made me quite happy, indeed. I hope you like this chapter; I tried my best. And thanks again. See you soon. :)

Alicia (Shimmerwings):

What can I say? You have been an absolutely amazing supporter of this story. I haven't talked to you in quite some time, which makes me sad, but I know you've been busy. But please know that you are missed. This story, especially chapter 3, could never have been finished without you, and I thank you a million times over for all your help, reviews, and support. And you're such a talented, wonderful writer yourself that your support of my writing has meant even more. Many, many hugs.

Lauren:

Sure, you've never physically reviewed this, but after all I put you through with this story, you certainly deserve a shoutout. I love you to death, you know that? God, you're awesome. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend, and a wonderful beta, and just all around wonderful, all the time. I really and truly could not have written this without you. I'm sorry for all I put you through with this (especially the awful dialect!), and I congratulate you on not murdering me. Hugs, a million times over.

Jess, Isa, Allie, Aldo, Melissa, and all my other Real Life Friends:

None of you have physically reviewed this, either. However, I do want to thank you all for putting up with me during the writing of this story. I know I was obnoxious, and made you guys read stuff you probably would never have read otherwise, and made you listen to my whining and cheering and all that as I got to different parts. But, you guys were there, and I can't thank you enough for dealing with me. I couldn't have done it without you all. Thanks for not killing me. ;)

Thank you. Everyone. I love you all.

Harmony

10/9/03