Hey, so this is the last chapter! I hope you guys have enjoyed the story so far, I know I've had a lot of fun. It was kind of a side project for a while because the original "Jack" storyline was already on here, but I liked adding more. In total two other short stories that were added here were called "I'll Always Come Back" and "Red Paint". Maybe one day I'll post them separately on my account, but I don't know. Anyway, back to the story. I've had a fun time writing this, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it! I know I'll be back with more newsies stories, this is such a fun fandom to write for!

Leave a review, tell me what you think! Enjoy!

"I's sorry, Jack," Race whispered to the Manhattan leader as Race continued to apply pressure and Jack tried to twist away, thrashing. He shook his head violently, lips forming silent pleads, but Race didn't let up. Race's heart skipped a beat when he heard a sound he had never heard from Jack ever before. He whimpered. Jack was their leader, he made it through violent winter and sweltering summers, he faced the Delancey's with a grin, he could even stare down Snyder. He had come back from the Refuge beaten, broken, but the newsies never had a clue. He put on a brave face whenever times got tough, being the leader, the man they all needed. What they tended to forget was Jack was just a boy, just like all of them. Race looked up at Crutchie on the other side of the bed who has tears shining in his eyes. Jack's hand shot out, grabbing at air until it found purchase at the bedsheets he was laying on. He pulled at the sheets as he moaned, legs moving and stretching around to try and relieve the pain.

"Hey, hey, hey Jack, it's Crutchie. It's alright Jackie, it's all good," Crutchie said softly, grabbing at Jack's hand with his own as he sat on the edge of the bed, letting his crutch lean against the bed frame. Jack squeezed Crutchie's hand tightly, but Crutchie didn't make a sound.

"You's alright, Jackie," Race said next, and Jack calmed down in the slightest. A second later, Jack's eyes slowly blinked open, staring at the top of the bunk bed before finding Crutchie, Race, and Specs staring back at him.

"... happen'd?" Jack croaked, voice breaking in the middle and eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"That's what we wanna know. You's was out with Davey and Les and then yous was here, bleeding out on us," Race explained what they knew and in a flash, Jack seemed to remember everything and he sat up, leaning against his elbows.

"Les and Davey, they's alright?" He asked anxiously, looking around the lodging house. In the corner he spotted the two of them, Davey sitting at a table across from Buttons in quiet conversation while Les laid back in Davey's lap, asleep on his shoulder. Jack let out a sigh of relief, before drawing his attention back to his side, which Race was still pressing down on. Moving quickly had not been a smart move.

"Tha's not good," Jack muttered as he saw the red-stained towel at his side, falling back down on the pillow. White-hot agony shot up his side, blinding out any other pain he was feeling as he grit his teeth. He didn't pass out - there was too much pain for the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness - then there were hands on his face, poking around. Someone put just enough pressure for Jack to gasp and open his eyes wide, staring at the face of a young man.

"Definitely signs of a concussion. Depending on his pain levels, there's not much we can do for it, he needs lots of rest." Jack didn't recognize this voice, it was new. He didn't like new things. When the white spots had cleared from his vision Jack squinted and realized who the mystery person was.

"Hey Jack, I heard you got into a bit of trouble now, huh?"

"Hey, Buck. No bulls…" Jack mumbled, hoping to shut his eyes and go back to sleep.

"No, I'm not going to call the police. Medda was concerned, she asked me to come over here and make sure you are alright. Is that okay?" Jack opened one eye and gave the doctor a quick once over and barely nodded. Jack had met the young doctor a few occasions in the theater, he was a regular practicing doctor that Medda had on speed dial and sometimes did house calls. A few times Jack had shown up at Medda's door needing help and the good doctor had been introduced.

"Sure Doc… whatever ya need."

Dr. Buchanan went over and talked through all he was doing, though Jack was barely listening. It was more for Race, Crutchie, and Specs who were listening anxiously. He wrapped up Jack's left knee where there was some slight swelling, it didn't seem broken or sprained, and Jack didn't rate the pain high enough to be concerned. A tight wrapping and instructions to keep off it would keep the pain lower for the time being. A few thin trips of bandages were put along the cut on Jack's cheek to close it, the bleeding slowed completely. Keeping it clean would be the best medicine for that. Working fast on the minor injuries, Dr. Buchanan turned to the more concerning.

"Jack, I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt. A lot," Dr. Buchanan warned. "I need to sterilize the wound, then stitch it. You're going to want something to bite down on." Someone found a spare belt and put it in Jack's hand. Jack glanced warily at the doctor, but followed instructions and bit down on it. Dr. Buchanan pulled out a small black bottle of liquid plus a little kit with some needles and string. He glanced at Jack before continuing, who gave him a nod. Dr. Buchanan glanced at Race as Jack laid his head back down on the pillow, chest anxiously heaving.

"You're going to want somebody to hold him down." The bluntness of the statement caught Race off guard, but he called Albert and Jojo over to hold down Jack's arms and shoulders.

"Jack, I'm going to give you a small dose of morphine that'll help with the pain. It will start working soon, but you are still going to feel this. But I promise, once it kicks in fully, the pain will be much more manageable. It will probably make you sleepy too, but don't fight it. You need the rest." Jack nodded for the go-ahead, and Dr. Buchanan injected a small amount of a clear liquid into Jack's arm.

Dr. Buchanan replaced the needle with the small black bottle, taking a deep breath before pouring the liquid on the bloody wound, instantly creating a reaction. The hydrogen peroxide did its job and cleaned the wound, but its sting was nearly unbearable. Jack screamed into the belt, biting down hard and his back arched, trying to move away from the pain.

"Hold him still!" Dr. Buchanan shouted and Albert and Jojo pushed on his shoulders and Finch jumped on top of his kicking legs, pushing the thrashing Jack back onto the bed. Dr. Buchanan threaded the string through the needle and wiped away access liquid, sticking the needle through skin. Jack moaned as the doctor sewed the wound shut, and a few moments later, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and Jack was out.

The next time Jack woke up, it took a minute for him to process everything that happened. Awareness came to him in bits and pieces, flashes of images here and there. He didn't get the story straightened out until he tried to sit up in his bed and was instantly greeted with a shock wave of pain that washed up his side. It wasn't like what he remembered, but it was enough to get him to lay back down. Jack heard quiet movements beside him and he cracked one eye open to see who was there. He blinked a few times when he found a light in his face, but soon the revolting light was moved away.

"Crutch…" Jack whispered, his voice not able to get any higher than that. It was scratchy and sore, and from what felt like being overused. "...happened?" Crutchie moved the candle to the other end of the table, moving his stool so he could be close to Jack's bed. He was silent for a while, and Jack's eyes wandered his face, looking for any sign of what happened. The last twenty-four hours had been a mess, one that Jack had blissfully slept through. Jack would have been frustrated to find out that he slept for a whole day then some, but everyone knew he needed the rest. Rarely had Jack ever really slept through the night, he was up drawing or helping another newsie who was sick or with a nightmare. Crutchie took a breath and told Jack all the events since they had shown up at the lodging house with Davey and Les the night before.

"Wha' time is it?" Jack mumbled, trying to sit up again, this time making it up on his elbows before he noticed any pain. He glanced down at his torso, which was wrapped tightly with bright white bandages. He picked on them gently, wincing when he hit a sore spot on the gash. There were only tiny little specks of red tinting the bandage, which Jack guessed was a good thing.

"I's think it's 3 in the morning. Most'a the other boys are asleep," Crutchie said softly, lifting the candle up to light up the room. Jack saw the rest of his newsies sleeping soundly around in the bunkbeds around the lodging house.

"Why aren't yous asleep?" Jack asked, glancing back over at Crutchie.

"Well," Crutchie chuckled just loud enough for Jack to hear, "someones gotta keep an eye on you. Besides, I let Davey and Les use my bed." Just like he said, Jack glanced at Crutchie's regular bunk where Davey and Les were sharing a thin blanket. Jack couldn't help but smile when he saw Les pressed up against his big brother and Davey with an arm thrown protectively over Les.

"They's alright?"

"They's fine, Jack. You did good." The two boys fell back into a lapse of silence until Jack started to shift around. Careful of the bandages on his chest, Jack pushed up backward, trying to get up into a sitting position. Crutchie shot forward, balancing on one leg himself as he tried to help his friend.

"Should you really be moving, Jack? The Doc said to keep still…"

"I gotta sit up, Crutch. I'm tired of laying down." Crutchie helped as much as he could to get Jack into the sitting position, his bare back pressed up against the scratchy wood of the bunk bed. Jack took a deep breath, wincing when it stretched his side but let it out contently. It felt like he had been lying down for years. When Crutchie stayed silent, Jack glanced at the younger boy again and found him staring at Jack. Specifically, the bandages wrapped around his middle.

"Heya, Crutchie can yous grab me a shirt? It's kinda cold." Crutchie nodded and walked away from Jack's bed to grab him a spare shirt. Jack's clothes were up on the penthouse where he normally slept, so just an old spare from another newsie would work. Jack really wasn't cold - rarely was he - but he didn't like the thought of the other newsies seeing the scars and bruising that tattooed his chest. Every time Jack looked, Crutchie couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the bandage. All it did was mark yet another injury from Snyder, one more ugly reminder.

Crutchie came back quickly with one of Race's old shirts, the only other newsie that was close to Jack's size, and helped Jack put it on. It was a slow and painful process, but Jack got it buttoned up enough so the bandaged was hidden from sight. If you ignored the gash that ran down his face, Jack looked almost normal. He must've closed his eyes for a minute because when he opened them again Crutchie was still sitting there.

"Ya need something?" Jack asked, harsher than he intended but Crutchie ignored the tone. Crutchie started to shake his head, but he stopped himself. There were too many questions and Crutchie didn't want to be left in the dark anymore.

"What happen'd out there? Yous was pretty jumpy." Jack listened closely as Crutchie got even quieter. "We's never seen you like that." Jack sighed, knowing that sooner or later this question would come. He regretted choosing to go back to the lodging house in the condition he was in, but he'd rather be there hurt than leave his boys in confusion.

"I's was trying to get grub and a place for Davey an' Les when Snyder showed up looking for a fight," Jack spat out Snyder's name, face morphing into anger as he recalled the fight. "He started pickin' on Les, I mean he's just a kid? I think he hit me 'cause I remember wakin' up on the ground with Les next ta me. Davey was holding off Snyder, but he wasn't doing great. I took Davey's place and sent them running. I don't remember a lot, but Snyder had somethin' sharp and I didn't think he got me then, but I guess…" Jack looked down at his chest which was now covered so he couldn't see the bandage. But just because he didn't see the bandage didn't mean it wasn't there. Crutchie nodded along, all of that making sense with what they knew. But there had been one thing on his mind the whole time. Before Crutchie could ask his question, they both heard footsteps coming towards them.

"How ya feeling, Cowboy?" Race asked quietly, joining the two of them. Race crawled on and sat on the opposite side of Jack's bed. "Comfy?"

"Not with you on here," Jack cracked, trying to get a smile out of Race. Race was the known prankster, and nearly everything he said was sarcastic. There wasn't much that couldn't get the boy to laugh. Unfortunately, nothing about this situation made Race laugh. Race smiled blandly at Jack's jab and joked back, but not with his usual spark.

"Well get used to it, 'cause you're on my bed and if you ain't nice I'll kick you out." Instead of laughing, Jack realized where he was. Jack never had a bed, he slept up in the penthouse he could make beds for the other boys. There was never enough room anyway, so boys doubled up on the thin mattresses they did have. If Jack was in Race's bed, where was Race sleeping? Race noticed the change in emotions on Jack's face and gave a weary smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

"Don't piss ya pants, Jackie, I's fine. You need the bed more than I do," Race shut off any further argument by waving Jack off. Jack decided not to press the issue further and got a good look at Racetrack. He looked tired. Just like he did not so long ago. When Jack wasn't around Race was the one who ran the place, but it took a toll on the kid. Jack was used to it, it was hard, but he had done it for years. Jack was used to taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, Race wasn't. Eventually, Jack would age out and he'd pass it on, but that would be a while. Race ran a hand over his face, yawning and stretching his arms out. Jack would've missed it had not the candle been shining a light on the three of them at that moment.

"Race, was yous in a fight?" Race and Crutchie froze as Jack asked his question, slowly turning to look at each other. Race knew it was a bad idea to come over here, but Crutchie had asked him too. Race turned back to Jack, chuckling slightly.

"Oh, this? It's nothin', I's just roughhousin' around with some of the boys," Race said unconvincingly. He reached up and touched it, trying to prove that it wasn't anything bad, but he couldn't help but flinch when the pain flared. The bruise hadn't had enough time to fully form yet, but it was long enough for it to start to turn purple along the left side of his jaw. Jack raised an eyebrow, clearing seeing through the lie.

"Race, dontcha lie to me. Was it the Delancy's? They's hanging around here?"

"Jack, please…"

"Did you walk into Brooklyn again? Was it Spot?"

"No, Jack…"

"I swear, I'ma kill that Conlon fella, he's…"

"Jack!" Race didn't shout, but his voice was sharp enough to get Jack's attention. "I's said it's fine. It's not any of them, so don't worry about it!" Race was trying to get himself out of the center of attention, but Jack wasn't letting it go. Race looked to Crutchie to try and help, but it was useless. Jack was riled up, and the lies weren't giving him any reprieve.

"Jack, he said he's alright, yeah? Let's just calm…" Those were almost the opposite of what Crutchie should've said.

"No, I won't calm down, someone hit Race I can't let that-"

"It was you, Jack." Race said calmly in the middle of Jack's tirade.

"-what?"

Race sighed and started again. "I's didn't want to tell ya 'cause I know you'd get upset. But yous came back in with Davey and Les and yous wasn't looking too hot so ya tried to lay down, but Davey said… something… and you went nuts. Grabbed him and was freaking out. I's tried to get him out and I's did, he's fine, but then yous… uh… took a swing." Jack's mouth dropped open and shut, unable to find the words he was looking for.

"I did that?" Jack whispered in disbelief, so quiet that Race had to strain to hear him. Race was afraid of this.

"Jack, you didn't know what yous was doing, it wasn't your fault," Crutchie jumped in when the conversation went downhill. But Jack was gone. He ran a shaky hand down his face, just missing the cut on his cheek, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe it. Everything, after they came back to the lodging house, was foggy, but Jack couldn't believe himself. He'd never hurt any of his newsies.

"Racer, I's… so sorry... I don't know what I was doing…"

"Jack, that's the point, it wasn't you. You's weren't really there. Trust me. I saw the look in your eyes. It's not the Jack we know. I promise, Cowboy. I know it wasn't you." Race saw Jack relax slightly as he reassured him there was no harm done. Crutchie shot a glance at Race and Race nodded, giving Crutchie the go-ahead. Jack leaned back into the wall behind him, arm wrapped protectively around his middle. The pain had started back up again, but it was nothing compared to the guilt he now carried. He slipped up, and his slip up led to him attacking one of his own. That was unacceptable.

"You scared us, Jack. What happened there? With Davey?" Crutchie tried again. It was manipulative, taking advantage of Jack when his guard was down, but it was one of the only ways to get any actual information out of the Manhattan leader. Jack was silent as he processed his thoughts, letting the wall down completely. He had already done enough hurt, there wasn't room for more lies.

"Davey… he called me Kelly." Jack said bluntly, but the confused looks on Crutchie and Race's face told him that he still needed to go deeper. "The only person who calls me Kelly is Snyder. Nev'a heard him call me Jack. And when Davey started calling me Kelly, I couldn't get Snyder's voice outta my head. Then Davey didn't stop then I was back in the… I just couldn't do it. I can't stand my own name 'cause it reminds me of what they think I am. Some street rat, some thief. Some kid who doesn't deserve the time of day just because he doesn't have a dollar to his name!" Once Jack started talking, he didn't know if he could stop. Race and Crutchie hung onto every word, seeing a side of Jack they had never seen before.

"All they's see is Kelly. A penniless, soulless thief that the world chewed up and spit out on the streets to cause trouble. Not just some kid trying to keep other's from starvin' while they work all day for pennies. They don't see the orphan kid who should be going to school or staying home with families. They don't see the kid just trying to get some extra clothes or food for the others, no they just see Kelly, the thief." Race and Crutchie nodded along, finally understanding. They all had grown up on the streets, they knew what it was like.

"Kelly's all my father told me I would be. But I don't want to be like him. I'm not Kelly, not Jack Kelly."

"It's just Jack."

Whew. We're all done, folks, that's all I've got! I hope you all have enjoyed and I know I'll be back soon with more! If you liked it, tell me what you think, I love reading your guy's reviews!

Be Awesome, Stay Hilarious, Trust God and Love Avengers!

-avengersashley