Chapter Text

Warning: This chapter is very graphic.

Crutchie had never been so scared. Jack had barely been coherent since Race had left them last night. He was restless in sleep, constantly shifting and crying out in pain. Not that Crutchie can blame him; Snyder hadn't left him alone since he had showed up a week ago. Blood had dried on his face and his blue shirt had been stained to an almost-black color.

Jack groaned in Crutchie's lap and Crutchie ran his hand through Jack's knotted hair. "It's okay, Jack," he whispered. "Don't move. You'll be fine." Jack just hissed and brushed away Crutchie's hand. He opened his eyes and, though they were unfocused, Crutchie was glad to see that familiar green glint.

"Crutchie, wh-what happened?"

"We'se in the Refuge, remember? Snyder soaked you real bad."

Jack nodded and tried to force himself into a sitting position, but Crutchie could see the excruciating pain on his face. He knew Jack hated asking for help, so he quickly moved him so his back was propped against the wall. Jack smiled at him, trying to mask the pain with relief. Crutchie leaned up against him and this time Jack made no move to push him away. Then Fox dropped down in front of them, completely ruining the brotherly moment.

"W-who are you?" Jack stuttered out.

"That's Fox," Crutchie said. "He's been helping us. You'se been pretty out of it whenever he's around."

Jack nodded at him and spit into his hand for the usual greeting. But Crutchie noticed the spit was full of blood. Obviously Jack noticed too because he quickly wiped the spit on his pants and shot an apologetic look at Fox. He resorted to just normally shaking Fox's hand though even that seemed to take a lot of effort.

"So you'se Jack Kelly?" Fox asked with a sparkle in his eye. Jack nodded.

"All the boys talk about you. They says you escaped here. How?"

"Well," Jack said with a smile, "Governa' Roosevelt came to visit us, tryin' to prove he cared about orphans for his election. So they opened up everything to let him in and I sprinted out. They all thought I took off, but I was just hiding under the governa's carriage. The first reported escape from the Refuge." He smiled, but his eyes were already closed and he was drifting off to sleep again.

Fox's face fell as soft snores filled his ears and Crutchie frowned. All of these boys somehow seemed to expect Jack to be invincible and many had turned their backs when they realized their hero wasn't all that he was cracked up to be. At least Fox stayed with them. With Jack down for the count and his missing crutch, he relied on Fox to help him move around.

"Is he okay?" Fox asked.

"What do you think, Fox? He's barely been fed. He's sick. He's hurt. He's barely been able to move his feet or hands and he's losing a lot of blood," Crutchie snapped, then sighed. "I'se sorry, Fox. I'se just scared."

Fox nodded and looked like he had something to say, but a loud grating noise filled the room. For the past few days, it signalled Snyder coming to take Jack, but today Jack wasn't waking up. Two guards entered and marched over to where Crutchie sat protectively in front of Jack.

"Snyder needs to talk to Mr. Kelly," one of the guards said. Crutchie hated this and was tempted to tell them just to fuck off. But he knew that would end up bad for both of them.

"Jack," he whispered, shaking the other boy's shoulder. "Jack. You gotta wake up." But he didn't even move. "Jack," he said again, this time much louder. Jack just groaned.

Then Snyder entered the room. "What's taking so long?" he growled.

"The boy's not waking up," the guard said and pointed at Jack.

"Then take the other one," Snyder replied. "If the boy can't keep up his side of the deal, I don't need to keep up mine." Crutchie felt two large hands grab his arms and hoist him off the bed.

"No! No! Jack! Help me!" Of course, all of the other boys turned away from the crying cripple and left him to his fate. Even Fox felt too guilty to make eye contact with his newfound friend.

"Stop." Crutchie heard a soft whisper that made the guards freeze and turn around. There stood Jack, precariously swaying and already creating a small pool of blood. "The deal is with me. Leave Crutchie alone."

The guards glanced at Snyder, and when he nodded, they dropped Crutchie and seized Jack instead. They started to exit the room, but Snyder stopped them at the door.

"Leave him right there," Snyder said and disappeared. For one hopeful second, Crutchie thought the Spider might be merciful. But then he returned with a whip and metal bat. The guards held Jack and ripped off his shirt. Laughter from the three men and gasps from the boys filled the room as the scars from all of Jack's previous sentences were revealed. The two guards forced Jack to his knees and turned his back to Snyder.

The whip snapped through the air and struck Jack's back, leaving behind a bloody streak. Jack cried out in pain and Crutchie shut his eyes. But he couldn't block out his brother's pained screams or what seemed like the constant assault of the whip. Every scream shot through his mind like a hammer was trying nail it there. Finally, when the screams died down and Crutchie could no longer hear the whip, he opened his eyes. Snyder was there leaning over a bloodied Jack. He wasn't unconscious though he was obviously wishing for it.

"You're in here because of him," Snyder started, pointing at Crutchie. "You are here because you are protecting him. Why?" Jack stayed silent. "Why?!" he shouted, kicking Jack in the side.

"Because it's my job to protect him. Because he's a cripple," Jack whimpered.

"A cripple, huh? But what if you were a crip too?"

Jack and Crutchie figured out his meaning at the same time. Crutchie's eyes widened and he heard Jack screaming in the background.

"No! No! Please!" His screaming eventually turned incoherent as Snyder slammed the bat into his left leg, forcing it the wrong direction. Crutchie wanted to look away again, but a guard grabbed him and made him watch. Everytime the bat hit Jack, Crutchie felt like he could feel his pain. After a couple minutes, several resounding cracks echoed through the room. Jack let out one last pained shriek before collapsing, unconscious. Snyder left him there. Crutchie dragged himself across the floor until he was next to Jack. There was blood everywhere, but Crutchie couldn't bring himself to look at his leg.

"Jack," he whispered. "Jack please wake up. Please! Jack! Jack!" He was screaming now and was trying to pull Jack closer to his chest. Tears poured out of his eyes and fell into Jack's hair. Most of the boys stared on in shock, but then three came forward. One pulled Crutchie off Jack, then helped the others carefully lift Jack back to his bed. Fox helped Crutchie over to the mattress. They had laid him on his stomach because his back was too torn up and cut. His back barely rose as he shallowly breathed, but even that seemed to cause pain. Crutchie hated seeing him like this, and it was all because of him. Like it always was.

"Jack's back!" a boy shouted, halting Hunter and Crutchie's conversation. Hunter stood up so fast he almost knocked Crutchie to the ground.

"Where is he?"

"Race put 'im on Crutchie's bed." Mush had barely finished his sentence before Hunter had sprinted out of the room. Crutchie grabbed the small crutch he had been using and hobbled after the older boy. And sure enough, there was a boy lying there in his bed. He was thin, almost as small as Crutchie. His eyes were sunken in and the dark bruises and cuts stood out against his pale, clammy skin.

"Where was he?" Hunter asked.

"The Refuge, I think," Racetrack said. "I found him collapsed just outside. He's so small, so sick. Is he gonna be okay? He's so thin and… and… is he gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Hunter said, though anyone could hear the panic. "Just let him rest. Now come on, we all need to go to sleep. We'se got work to do in the morning."

Most of the boys left then leaving only Crutchie and Hunter. "Come on, kid," Hunter said, "let's get some rest."

He started to walk away, but Crutchie's sobbing stopped him. "What's wrong?"

"It's my fault. I was hungry and stole some food. But the cops found me. I couldn't run away fast enough. Jack got me out. He said that he made me do it. They took him. I-I didn't know it was him."

"It's not your fault. Like I said, he would go to the Refuge for a kid he never met." Then he left Crutchie alone at his bed. He couldn't sleep that night, the guilt keeping him up. The next morning, he went to the distribution early and used almost all of his money to buy extra papes. He was out until well into the evening using all of his charm and preying on others' sympathy. He finally returned to the lodging house with his arms full of blankets.

"What are those for?" Race asked, stopping him inside and looking hopeful. Crutchie just pointed at Jack.

"He ain't gonna get better if he's constantly freezing. But maybe when he's all good, he'll let you have one." He smiled at Race then went and laid one of the blankets over Jack's still body.

Once again, Crutchie was the only one to stay with Jack. But eventually exhaustion began to get to him and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He tried to force his eyes open. He wanted to be here if- no, when Jack woke up. Then something shocked him out of his exhaustion.

Jack was rolling around on the bed, desperately shoving the blankets to the ground. "Get off me," he mumbled. "Get off me! Don't touch me! Please don't hurt me! Please!" He stopped talking after that and continued in a restless sleep.

This is all my fault, Crutchie thought. Jack got hurt because of me. It's my fault he went to the Refuge. Crutchie reached to ruffle Jack's hair, but as soon as his fingers brushed across Jack's head, the older boy flinched away. "Please don't hurt me," he began to whisper again. Even in sleep, he was terrified of the pain he had suffered over the past month.

"I won't hurt you, Jack," Crutchie said over and over again. Jack eventually calmed down, listening to Crutchie's mantra. "I won't hurt you, Jack. I won't hurt you."

The next day, Crutchie was reluctant to leave Jack alone, but Race convinced him to go sell. "You won't be any help to Jack if you can't pay your rent and we can't afford to cover for two of ya." Crutchie knew he was right so he said goodbye to Jack and went to do his job. When he returned, Jack's condition hadn't changed, but there was a woman sitting by his bedside now. Race introduced her as Miss Medda Larkin, a singer in the Bowery. He said that sometimes she helped the newsies ever since Jack had snuck into her theater once.

"You must be Crutchie," she said, shaking his hand. He nodded. He already liked Miss Medda. She was gentle and careful not to disturb Jack as she moved around the room. She spent time with each of the newsies, asking them about the work conditions and personal lives. Every single one seemed to be excited to see Miss Medda. Their excitement only grew when she retrieved a large basket filled to the brim with warm pastries and canned food.

"Thanks, Miss Medda," they each said, digging into the steaming food. Crutchie watched Race go back for seconds, but Medda pushed his hand away.

"We've gotta make this last, Race," she said, and he frowned but retracted his hand. Crutchie noticed she kept stealing worried glances at the bedridden newsie. She finally left after giving Jack a kiss on the forehead.

"You're gonna to do great things, boy," she whispered. "You're gonna lead your generation to greatness." And Crutchie knew he imagined it, but he thought he saw Jack's lips curl into a smile. Crutchie slept in short fits, but stayed awake through most of the night, helping Jack through nightmares that didn't seem to be able to wake him. Finally the next night, things started to look up.

Crutchie's head was down and he was half-asleep when he heard a small voice that shocked him awake. "C-Crutchie?"

"Jack, you'se awake," he said, breathlessly.

"So you found them?" Jack asked, and at first Crutchie was confused. "I never had time to tell you where they was." He quickly realized he was talking about the newsies and Crutchie nodded. Yeah, I found them, Crutchie thought, found 'em because of you.

"I'se so sorry," he sobbed, "It's my fault you went to the Refuge."

"Hey, hey," Jack said, "I'se fine." Crutchie scoffed. Here Jack was, hurt so bad he had slept for three days, thin and starved, bruised and battered, yet trying to comfort Crutchie. "You'se the one that looks like shit," he continued. "When was the last time you slept?"

"The night you came back," he mumbled.

He could tell Jack was upset about that. "You don't need to stay awake on account a' me. Now I'se tired so both of us need to sleep."

"You'se in my bed," Crutchie said, trying to give himself an excuse for staying up for so long.

"Well, I'se hurt so I get this bed." He was obviously joking, but it still made Crutchie feel guilty.

"Can I sleep with you?" Crutchie whispered, his face burning with embarrassment. Jack nodded and scooted over. Crutchie laid next to him, feeling the warmth that radiated off his body. It was the best he ever slept.

Sorry.