I'm trying to get this all done tonight, sorry it's taken me so long, all of this is ready it's just me working on edits (which take forever...) So hopefully this will all be done soon. This addition to the original "Jack" storyline is a short story I called "Red Paint". You'll know what I mean later.
REVIEWS
Trekkiehood: Yes, it is a bit of a sticky situation, but they'll get through! Thanks for reviewing!
Alright, guys, I hope you enjoy it!
The last few feet to the lodging house seemed to be the hardest. Before they could reach the front door, it swung open and a few of the newsies ran - or hobbled - out to greet them. It was all a blur to Jack and suddenly there were hands on him, on his arms, on his face, and he couldn't tell who was who. He heard voices talking, but his concussed brain couldn't keep them all apart. At some point, he slipped his arm off Davey's shoulder and was determined to walk into the lodging house on his own. When he looked down he saw Crutchie's smiling face looking up at him, and he couldn't resist a smile of his own. That kid could always make Jack smile.
"You's alright Jack?" Crutchie asked innocently, his smile never wavering. Jack opened his mouth to answer, a lie, but he couldn't get the words to form. Lying to Crutchie left a bad taste in his mouth. Just out of the corner of his eye he saw Race talking to Davey and both of them turning to look at him equally concerned. Before Jack could process what was happening, the smile slipped off Crutchie's face and hands grabbed Jack by his wrists, tugging in him forward. Jack was only vaguely aware of his own feet moving underneath him, but he wasn't feeling much of anything. He was numb, but Jack couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.
Once they were safe inside the lodging house, Jack was finally able to suck in a tiny, shaking breath. The outside world was locked out, and that was the closest thing to a big strong door to lock the worst parts of New York out. Exhaling slowly, trying to keep the ebbing pain in his abdomen to a minimum, his eyes bounced around the lower floor of the lodging house. It seemed as if every newsie had gathered waiting for him to come back, piling up on some of the bunks or around tables with their anxious eyes all staring at him. Not one for all the attention, Jack looked down at his feet, finally noticing how unsteady he was on his own two legs. He was tired. Laying down sounded like a really good idea.
"Jackie, you should probably get checked out with Specs. Davey told me about -" Race broke the general silence across the lodging house and stepped into Jack's vision. Chewing his cigar, Race watched Jack carefully, noting his slower response and how long it took for the leader's eyes to finally focus on him. Nobody was there, but Specs was one of the few who knew how to read and had picked up some medical books a while back. With the rare ability to read, Specs had become the resident doctor for small emergencies.
"Race, I's fine. Just need to lay down for a bit, I'll be better in the morning." Jack pushed past Race and headed towards the bunks. He slept up on the roof to make space for the other newsies to have a bed, but he was sure someone wouldn't mind if he borrowed one for tonight. The newsies parted as he stumbled through the crowd, and he could hear Race and Albert telling the other newsies to go to bed. Some listened, some hung around, but Jack was just ready for some sleep.
Jack tripped over a shoe - probably Spec's - as he limped towards an open bunk and nearly barreled headfirst into the bunk bed, only catching himself with the wooden supports. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against the wood in an effort to catch his breath and steady himself. Already vulnerable, he was caught off guard when someone behind him laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Kelly, you alright? I still think-" Davey never got to finish his sentence. Jack tensed underneath his hand and everything from there moved in a whirlwind. Before Davey could blink Jack whipped around and grabbed Davey's arm, shoving it up behind Davey's back.
"What the -" Davey cried out, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.
"Kelly, what are you doing?" Jack's already pounding heart skipped a beat and sweat dripped from his bloodstained forehead, stinging as it mixed with the blood. His chest tightened and he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air to satisfy his aching lungs. Why couldn't Davey just stop? Davey couldn't help but let out a pain-filled grunt as Jack unconsciously twisted his arm harder.
"Don't call me that," Jack growled, his face pulled tight in anger and nervous, his voice dropping its edge almost as quickly as it came. "Please." Jack let his grip loosen slightly, but he couldn't drop it completely.
From across the room, Race had noticed Jack's initial agitation from the confrontation and he knew it was going to be a long night. Davey was a quick learner, but he was still new and some things took time and experience to learn. Some things couldn't be learned through a book or a worksheet. Most of the newsies knew the different things that set each other off, but everyone had different experiences and a new kid like Davey didn't know any different. All Race knew was unless Davey wanted to get stomped to the ground, Race needed to butt in, fast.
"Hey, fellas, what's happenin'?" Race asked nonchalantly, moving the cigar from its place hanging out of his mouth and sticking it over his ear.
"Get him off me," Davey hissed, his arm starting to cramp painfully. Race had seen situations like this play out before, and they could go south fast. Race saw Jack's eyes wildly look around the room as if searching for an invisible threat. His chest heaved with every breath, and if all the injuries that Davey described were there, it would be very painful to do so. Race slowly lowered his hands until they were slightly out from his side and hands open so they saw his palms. Slow, deliberate steps forward caught Jack's attention and he flinched slightly, making eye contact with Race.
"Hey, Jack," Race said quietly, continuing to move towards the two of them. No fast movements, nothing to make it seem like he was a threat. All the newsies had different stories, different backgrounds, different fears. Almost all of them had been to the Refuge, some a few times. The night back was the worst. Screams filled the air and the other newsies could only sympathize. The newsies knew that Jack had been there more than anyone else, and a place like that could change a man. They all came back with this look in their eyes, haunted and scared. Jack had that same look now, but it had been a little while since his last trip to the Refuge. Something had spooked Jack, but Race didn't have a clue to what it was.
"You's alright, Cowboy, just focus on me, Jack. You's fine," Race made sure to use only the names that newsies called him, keeping it all familiar. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his hand around Jack's wrist and pulled it from Davey's arm. Once Davey was free, Race grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled the boy around behind him. Race continued to calmly talk to Jack, who had brought his hands back down by his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists. The pattern was supposed to calm him, but the wild look in Jack's eyes didn't go away. Race and Jack stood directly across from each other while Davey hung slightly behind Race, clutching his arm.
"See, Jackie-boy here don't care for his last name too much..." Race didn't break eye contact with Jack as he started to explain to Davey what little he knew.
"What, Kelly?" Without even thinking, Davey said it again, cringing when he realized the mistake he just made. Whatever progress Race had made was thrown out the window as chaos let loose. Jack didn't hesitate a moment as he threw a wicked punch towards the sound. Race had just barely dodged the punch and pushed Davey backward to avoid anymore fighting. Davey stumbled and fell on the floor, but made no move to get up. All the newsies stood frozen and watched the fight before them in awe. Jack had been punching wildly before, but now with Race catching the punches, Jack unconsciously turned towards a threat he could actually hit.
Race continued to play defense - he didn't want to switch to offense and accidentally hurt Jack even more. Jack was a good fighter, one of the best, but being tired and injured his swings were at their full power. That didn't mean he didn't get in any good hits. Race blocked most of them, dodged a few more but he couldn't stop all of them. Race took his eyes off Jack for a mere second and when he looked back a fist was flying in his direction. It hit painfully hit home in Race's jaw and he was thrown backward, falling into Davey.
"Back up!" Race shouted as he pushed himself back to his feet, needing everyone else out of the way. All of the newsies had gathered back down to watch the fight unfold, much to Race's dismay. So instead of a small little fight, the entire lodging house was watching them like a dog fight crowd. But this wasn't just some fun sparring. Jack didn't know that he was fighting a brother, and Race didn't want to hurt Jack anymore. Race knew he could take the hits, he's had worse before from the Delancey's and the Refuge. It didn't mean it wouldn't hurt in the morning, but he knew Jack didn't mean it. Jack took Race's momentary distraction to send another fury of punches at the blonde newsie, barely blocking each one. Race faked a few punches to try and get Jack off balance and had to hold back from throwing his own.
"Don't make me fight you, Jack," Race growled gently, knowing that throwing a few punches wasn't going to do anything. It was time to end it. In one smooth movement, Race blocked the punch thrown at him and hooked a leg around Jack's. With a yank, Jack's leg was pulled out from underneath him and he was sent sprawling to the ground. With a thud, all the fight seemed to drain out of Jack and he lay panting on the ground.
Race stood silently over Jack, watching him carefully for any other signs of rebellion. Jack kept his eyes closed as he laid on the ground, and Race instantly switched from on the defensive to concern. He quickly touched his jaw where Jack's punch had caught him and it throbbed painfully. It would bruise, but Race would make up some excuse on how he got it. No need to worry Jack anymore. At some point, Davey walked up beside Race with his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.
"Ya know for a smart guy, you's really an idiot," Race said casually, moving the cigar back to his mouth to chew on it, something familiar.
"Why doesn't he like being called-" Race's eyebrow twitched and Davey changed his wording, "- his last name?" Race shrugged, shaking his head as he shoved the cigar back in his mouth to chew on it.
"Dunno. Only mentioned once 'a twice. Somethin' with Snyder I think." Before Davey could ask for more clarification, Race had walked away and left the boy standing without a real answer.
Race knew that Davey wanted more, but Race didn't know more than that either. If Davey really wanted to know, he would ask Jack himself. And hopefully not screw it up this time. Speaking of their fearless leader, Race crouched down beside Jack and held out a hand, trying to get him up. While Race hadn't really touched him during their fight, Jack still wasn't looking good. Race hadn't seen this much blood on him in a while.
"Alright, up you go, Big Guy. Let's get you checked out," Race said quietly. He shot a look at Albert and JoJo, who jumped into action at the glance. They herded the newsies that had stayed around back to the upper floor. Most of the older newsies had beds on the lower floor and the younger ones on the upper. A few older newsies were in charge of watching the little ones upstairs, and they sent everyone to get ready for bed. If Race was lucky, someone would distract the littles with a story and keep them occupied while Race fought Jack to get Specs to check for major injuries. That was a whole other battle in itself.
Within moments of the newsies disappearing upstairs, Race was fully focused on helping Jack. Jack had used Race's help to get to his feet, but he was standing unsteadily, arm wrapped tightly around his midsection. Race was trying to coax him forward into a chair someone had magically put out in front of him, but Jack numbly shook his head. If he took a step, he wasn't sure if he could keep his balance. Jack barely heard Race call Specs down, but most of Jack's hearing was drowned out by a buzzing that filled his head. The buzzing was then replaced with pounding, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Race appeared in his vision again, concerned eyes looking up at Jack's. He was saying something, but Jack couldn't make out the words. He felt a hand on his shoulder - Race's hand - and he tried to focus on the contact, but he felt himself fading. A sharp sting that hadn't bothered him in a while came back in full force underneath his hand. Almost instantly he was aware of every little pain and scratch on his body, and the sudden awareness hit him with a wave of dizziness. He lost his footing and staggered backward, catching himself just in time.
"Jack?" Crutchie asked, magically appearing in front of him. Jack reached out and grabbed Crutchie's shoulder like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him grounded.
"Jack…" Race said, more concerningly. Something was going down. Jack didn't answer, didn't say a word, just looked down at his vest and his arm wrapped around it. The stinging increased so Jack applied more pressure, only causing another flare of pain. Suddenly, splotches of color around the fabric of his vest caught his eye and he met Race's eyes with confusion clouding his own.
"... I's was paintin'?" Jack slurred slightly, gaze dropping back down to his stomach.
"What?" Race practically shouted, equally as confused. Crutchies' and Race's face were both etched in concern while Jack still stood confused, trying to remember the last time he had used red paint. When Jack pried his hand away from his stomach, Jack's entire palm was stained red. Jack glanced back up at Race who was staring open-mouthed
"Tha's not paint," Jack mumbled before his eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled. Race swore loudly, diving down to catch Jack seconds before he hit the ground. Race grunted under the extra weight and struggled to get a better grip while watching the now visible bloody patch on his side.
"Clear a bed!" Race shouted, lifting up the Manhattan leader bridal style, trying to keep him as still as possible. Jack's head rolled back onto Race's shoulder and his arm hung limply off the side. The newsies scattered and made way for Race as he sprinted to the nearest open bed, laying Jack down as carefully as he could. The littles had finally settled upstairs and Race sent ones that weren't needed then to their beds. Race hovered beside the bed while Specs started looking over wounds and calling out supplies he needed.
"Mush, I need' a bunch of clean towels, the cleanest you got. Finch, go get some water and a lot of it. Sniper, I need soap, borrow some from Jacobi's if there ain't enough 'ere," Specs took over, laying out instructions as naturally as he could. Race stood behind him, and he was the only one who could hear the slight shake in Spec's voice as Jack still didn't move from the bed.
"Race, we gotta get the layers off, I gotta see what I's working with," Spec said, just to Race this time. Crutchie was standing on the other side of the bed, anxiously biting at his fingernails as he watched the two other newsies work. He wanted to help, but he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get the supplies needed in time. For now, he could just be by Jack, for when he woke up. Because he will wake up. He just had too.
One by one, Race and Specs peeled off each layer of clothing, wet and sticky from the blood staining the fabric. Once Jack's chest was stripped bare, Specs took over, trying to stay objective as the other newsies brought the supplies he needed to clean. Specs talked himself through it as he worked, washing the dried blood away from the wound to get a clear view of the wound. From what Specs could tell it wasn't too deep, but it was long. It started from just underneath his bottom rib on Jack's right side and cut along his hip. It was long and ugly and definitely not something that he should've been hiding. Specs was slightly pleased to see the blood flow already slowing, but dirty sheets and a dust-filled building was not the best thing to keep it healthy.
Specs concentrated as hard as he could as he cleaned the wound and instructed Race to put pressure on the towel on the gash. It would work for the moment, but Specs knew this wasn't something he could deal with; they needed a real doctor. While Race kept the pressure on, he couldn't keep his eyes off Jack's chest. All the newsies were generally pretty dirty and occasionally a bit beaten up -occupational hazards when they worked with the Delancy's - but Jack was a whole mess of black and blue bruises. It was painful to look at, but Race couldn't stop.
"Race, I need you to put more pressure on it, we need to stop the bleeding," Specs whispered when Race seemed to let up on the towel slightly. Race pushed harder, wincing when Jack let out a small moan. He whispered his own apology as Specs cleaned the cut on the side of Jack's face. Specs wanted to say that Jack looked better with all the blood wiped away, but he would be lying.
"There's not a lot more I can do, we need a real doctor. I don't know how ta fix his side. Snyder got 'em good." Specs called out to the newsies around Jack's bed. "Mike and Ike are the fastest, send them to get Medda. She knows Jack, she'll know what to do." Race relayed the instructions and less than a minute later Mike and Ike sprinted out of the front doors of the lodging house, off to get some real help. As the door slammed behind them, Race looked up at Specs who wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"What are we suppose ta do while they get her?" Race asked, glancing down at his own bloodstained hands.
"Nothin', not until they get Medda. We gotta keep the pressure on it, fo' sure," Specs said plainly, almost dejectedly. Jack still wasn't answering or making any notion of waking up now, but once he did, he would be in a lot of pain. That's not something the rest of the newsies needed to see. Specs just prayed that the littles would be asleep by the time the doctor came, in case things went south. Specs continued to wipe away the blood from Jack's face and grabbed a bandage to place over the cut on his cheek. Specs took note of everything he saw, trying to be best prepared to give good information when a real doctor came. Race continued to push on the towel, but he was torn. The more he pressed down, the more blood stopped leaking. On the other hand, the harder he pushed the more Jack moaned unconsciously. Race started to notice more twitches and occasionally his head shaking from side to side. He was waking up. Race glanced up at the door across the room, still shut from when Mike and Ike left. They needed to hurry up.