Shades of Grey

Chapter 16 – Every Day A little Death

It was the light that finally made Racetrack wake up. Not the harsh and artificial light from the asylum, but real sunlight streaming in and hitting his face. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, but feeling the light hitting his eyes was just enough that it made his eyes open. Racetrack strained, trying to figure out what it was that had triggered some sort of memory in him. Everything was so confusing; he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, or where he was. It seemed familiar, but it wasn't the asylum.

There had been a place before the asylum, he reminded himself. Brooklyn. And Spot.

He vaguely remembered there was something else besides Spot, but the memories were so fuzzy that it was hard for him to put them together, and it just made his head ache even more. He could barely remember a time when his head didn't hurt him.

He could barely remember anything.

The light, which had seemed so comforting at first, had just started to irritate his eyes, and Racetrack blinked repeatedly. He tried to raise his head so that he could turn away from it, but it took more strength than he was capable of generating at that particular moment. He was pinned down by all sorts of blankets, and strangely, he felt safe.

That was the most confusing thing of all.

He'd thought that somewhere in the asylum he had heard Spot. And Spot had been there. But Racetrack was no longer sure if he could trust himself, or anything that he thought he knew. Nothing made sense anymore.

His head hurt.

He hurt all over. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open. The lights hurt badly. The light… the light was…

He let out a wince as the memories of the torture inside the cell came flooding back at him. It was too bright. But at least it was quiet.

"Racetrack," someone said. The voice was familiar. It wasn't the Doctor though. The Doctor didn't call him that. Neither would the Nurse. He had to be dreaming again. Dreaming that he was back… back where it wasn't real.

"Racetrack," the voice repeated, and Racetrack turned away from it.

It had to be the Doctor testing him. If he fought against it, then maybe they wouldn't put him back in Iso.

"Racetrack, it's Jack," the voice said.

Racetrack turned away from the voice. Now he knew this was a test. Jack wasn't real.

"Racetrack," the voice repeated, and Racetrack just got more confused. The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn't the voice of one of the staff. It sounded like someone who was familiar, but he still didn't know who it was.

It could be Jack… the voice seemed to match the name, but it just didn't make any sense.

Nothing made sense.

"Racetrack, please look at me," the voice pleaded. "Please, Racetrack, we got you back to the lodging house. You're safe, you aren't at the asylum any more. They can't hurt you now."

This was a different kind of test. They hadn't told him something like that before. Was this a sign that they were going to let him go? Was he cured?

There was slight pressure on his shoulder, and Racetrack winced in pain. He'd been hit there recently, but he didn't remember when or how. He thought it was from before, but he didn't know. The doctor's weren't there to hurt him, they were only testing him to make sure that he could go and become a productive member of society. Their lessons, even those that caused him pain, were for his own good. He knew that.

He just wished that they would let him keep the memory of Spot. He didn't care if it was just something he'd made up. He needed that delusion.

Hands were on him, and they were moving him. Racetrack closed his eyes, praying that whatever they were going to do to him was going to end quickly.

"Racetrack," the voice repeatedly gently, and for some reason Racetrack found it comforting. "Look at me. You're safe here."

Racetrack didn't understand what it meant to feel safe.

Safe was a feeling that he could barely remember. He knew that he'd felt safe once, but they had told him that it wasn't real. His memories of being in Spot's arms, of the strike, and of poker games with friends in the lodging house weren't real.

He opened his eyes.

Jack hated seeing Racetrack like this. The Racetrack that he knew didn't flinch back from anything. Racetrack had been one of the ones who had been yelling at him the day that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life, and one of the ones who had taken the longest to forgive. Racetrack was more prone to anger than hurt or sadness. Mush had been the one who had looked like his world had ended that day, while Racetrack had just seemed so angry.

But now, as Racetrack finally opened his eyes after Jack had pleaded with him, Racetrack's eyes were confused and filled with pain.

Jack immediately took his hand off of Racetrack, who let out a deep breath after the slight pressure was released.

"Welcome back, Racetrack."

"Is this real?" Racetrack's voice was quieter than Jack had remembered it. He sounded worn out and defeated.

The Racetrack he knew from before this would never have had to ask if this was real or not.

Pitch had been right, and he was broken.

"Where is Spot?" Racetrack asked, and Jack felt as if he'd been stabbed through the heart. He should have known better then to think that he could have possibly had a chance with Racetrack, and to even try something now was a thought that made Jack disgusted at himself for even thinking of.

"He's in Brooklyn, he'll be here later. Do you need me to go get him?"

"I… I…" Racetrack's breathing was getting more and more troubled, and Jack wasn't sure exactly what he could do for him. Placing a hand gently over Racetrack's own, he stroked the other boys hand in a fashion that he could only hope was helping to calm him.

"It's going to be okay, Race," Jack promised, taking the other boy's hand in his own. "You're safe here, we aren't going to let them hurt you again."

"Safe?" Racetrack gasped out. "What's… safe?"

Jack didn't know what to say, and he just sat there stroking Racetrack's hand.

Racetrack was still drifting in and out of consciousness when the rest of the newsies arrived back from selling that evening. The older boys who had been Racetrack's closer friends were crowded up by his bed, watching in silence as he tossed and turned. Racetrack was no longer crying out in his sleep as if he had during the day.

Jack sat and watched Racetrack sleep, and he did his best to fill the other boys in on exactly what had happened to Racetrack, while leaving out a few key details. He was pretty sure that his boys had been telling everyone all over the city that Racetrack was back, and if they'd even slightly exaggerated the condition that Race had been in when he'd returned to the lodging house, people would probably think that Jack had returned with Racetrack's corpse.

"Jack?" Blink asked hesitantly as he entered the bunkroom. "Is Race any better?"

"I don't know, Blink," Jack replied, as he lay down on Snipeshooter's bed. "He's hurt pretty bad."

"What happened?" Blink asked, and Jack looked up to see half the lodging house lurking behind him.

"Race got hurt," he snapped. "He ain't right in the head right now, but we're gonnafix him up as best we can. Stop asking questions 'til he's ready to talk about it."

To his credit, Blink didn't flinch back. Jack could see that there was real worry for Racetrack in his eyes. The two of them had always been close, and Jack wondered if Blink knew about Race and Spot.

He couldn't have known. Blink tended to act before he thought, and Jack knew that there was no way that Blink would have been able to keep something like that a secret.

He was going to be careful around Blink now, around all of them, especially knowing how he felt about Racetrack.

Jack looked at the inquiring eyes of the various newsies, and knew that he was going to have to stop all the rumors now. He hated having to give orders. It wasn't like he was Spot. Nobody was able to do those things like Spot. Spot's reputation was one that commanded respect, where Jack still had to fight to regain whatever respect that he had before the strike.

"Don't ask him about it," he said, in as commanding tone as he could manage. "Race needs to rest."

"You gonna sell tomorrow, Jack?" Skittery called, much louder than even Jack had been speaking.

Racetrack groaned in his sleep, and began to shake. Jack glared at Skittery, and moved over to Racetrack. "It's okay, Race. You're safe."

Racetrack's eyes sprang open and his breathing grew erratic. The gathered newsies began to talk quietly among themselves, as Jack moved to sit on Racetrack's bed and tried to keep him from shaking.

"Blink, Mush, help me here," he called, and the other two newsies came to join him as they tried to keep Racetrack from struggling, although they soon noted that their actions just seemed to make Racetrack struggle harder against them.

"No," Racetrack's voice was low and filled with pain, but his speaking for the first time in the presence of the other newsies caused them all to fall silent immediately. "Make it stop, please, let me go." He continued to thrash about, seemingly desperate to break free. "I'll do anything, just please, let me go. I'm not a newsie, I swear I'm not."

There was a collective gasp from the gathered newsboys.

"Shut up," Jack snapped to the other boys, as he tried to wake Racetrack up from whatever nightmare gripped him.

Racetrack gasped, and he stopped shaking. "Spot?" he asked, and his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can't… Not real."

"It's going to be okay, Race," Jack said quietly. "It'll be okay."

He turned to Blink. "Sit with him." The command came much easier this time.

Jack got up off the bed and ushered the other boys out of the room. As soon as they made it downstairs, he stared at everyone until they quieted. "You're not going to bother Race. I mean it."

"What happened to him, Jack?" Dutchy asked nervously.

"He was hurt. That's all you need to know. No more questions."

The newsies exchanged glances, and finally Specs nodded. Some of the other boys followed suit.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

Until Racetrack's screams started echoing down the stairs.

Author's note-Um. It's been a while. Yes. But, school has started again. (My last semester. Then I graduate. Go me?) So, updates will hopefully be occurring more often. And I'm almost done! Only a few more chapters left. I know this one was short, but it was a transition, and I hate transitions. So there.

Many thanks to B for everything. Chapter title is from A Little night Music. I'm on a Sondheim kick. Next chapter, Spot returns.

Shoutouts!

B-Stop writing like Blink. You scare me. But I adore you.

Shakespearean Fool-Well, that would be the question. The boy does need a hug. B claims I'm ahead of her in the torturing contest…

Maddy-Yeah, the boy is broken. Someone should fix him. But not Jack. Who is still messing with my plot.

Berri-Only 5 months this time. And we miss you.

Hazzagriff-I'm glad that you're enjoying it. And I like the sprace too. Spot needs to come back and play in the story more.

Iambic-Plot points? Really? Who knew? And I wouldn't bet on Race's sanity. I'm not done with him yet.

Koodles-Um. I think most of the boys are straight. But Jack? Is bi. At least. He's definitely crushing on Race anyway.

Cabingirls-Race always needs a hug. Especially when I write him.

Rumor-(Three times!) You need to be online more hon. I've missed you!

Gothica-Oh, I'm worse than what you think.

Rama-The kisses would probably help. Alas, there's no morphine for Race. The drugs would probably mess him up even more.

Faro-Race isn't liking it very much either. Heee.

Bloomer-The story was always intended to be scifi – I based it off of a Buffy episode.

Dreamer-I'm glad that you (and your muses) are enjoying.

Gambler-Here's more for you! Sorry it took so long.

Glimm-Oh sweetie, your review made me so happy. Thank you. loves

Corpus-I'm glad you like my Spot. I adore him.

Lucky-The NJL is the newsies justice league – it's a writers group.

Til next time!
TSB