Crutchie could say, with confidence, that this had been the worst month of his life. It had started with Pulitzer raising the price and had just gone down hill from there. He been taken to the Refuge, lost his faith in his brothers, and regained it all within three days. Jack had arrived in the Refuge and was dying. Then things started to look up when they won the strike. But he had to leave Jack behind. And now, he was lying happy and healthy in a comfortable bed while Jack suffered on the other side of town.

It had been almost three weeks since he'd gotten out of the Refuge and two since they'd broken Jack out, but Race still hadn't let Crutchie go see him.

"Why won't Race let me go see 'im?" Crutchie grumbled and Specs sighed, slightly sick of having this conversation.

"He just wants to wait 'til Jack is better. It's real bad, Crutchie."

Crutchie raised his eyebrow. "Really, Specs? Race even let Romeo go. Besides, I was the one who was with 'im the entire time. I watched him get those injuries. I stayed—"

"I just wanted to wait 'til you was better," Race interrupted. "I was bein' overprotective but I don't want you gettin' hurt again." Crutchie nodded and accepted Race's answers. His brothers would always worry about him too much. "Ya want to go with me today after we sell our papes?" Crutchie quickly nodded and jumped up, eager to get to the distribution center early today. He moved as fast his leg would let him and made it to the World before anyone else.

When he arrived, Wiesel was already there, pacing back and forth. It wasn't long before the Delanceys joined him though none of them seemed to notice Crutchie.

"Ya think Kelly'll be back today?" Morris asked and Oscar shook his head.

"Have ya heard what happened? That kid's probably not gonna survive until next week. He's never comin' back."

"It's rather ironic, don't you think?" Wiesel added. "The boy who started the strike won't be alive to see the benefits." Oscar and Morris both chuckled a little at that, and Crutchie stood to the side, fuming. But Crutchie stopped himself from doing anything stupid; Race wouldn't let him see Jack if he got in trouble. So Crutchie stood behind the gate, constantly clenching his fist until the other boys started to arrive. They were let into the courtyard and Crutchie was the first in line.

He flipped through the paper until he found the small article tucked into the corner of the third page. The first day it had run, it had made the front page, but now, in its second week, it was being moved further and further back. The article always made him mad, but he continued to read it anyway.

Dangerous Criminal Loose in the Streets

Underneath the flattering headline was a small picture of Jack. He had been only days away from his 17th birthday when it had been taken. It wasn't one of Jack's best moments - he was covered in cuts and bruises - and the writers were obviously doing their best to show he was the criminal they were making him out to be. But there was a tiny smile on the older boy's face. It was one that Crutchie hadn't seen in a long time. And that smile of hope was why Crutchie searched for this article everyday.

Jack Kelly has escaped again. Despite being assured by Warden Snyder himself that there would be no more escapees, Jack Kelly is back on our streets. The 17-year-old has been sentenced to the Refuge on six different occasions, and has escaped two of those six times. He is a thief and has been caught on several separate instances trafficking stolen goods. This wild fugitive needs to be returned to the Refuge if we can ever hope to be safe again. If you have any information on Jack Kelly please contact the police immediately.

The article continued with a description of Jack and distinguishing features such as 'recently suffered a broken leg, will probably be limping' and then finally, in bold print, a reward. It had been steadily rising in the past week.

Crutchie scoffed at the article. Anyone who knew Jack knew he didn't pose any threat. But it was, unfortunately, working. People were less willing to buy papers after learning the newsies' leader was a fugitive, and strangers seemed to be waiting outside the World everyday, hoping to snag the reward, until Wiesel finally told them Jack probably wasn't coming back.

"C'mon Crutchie," Race said, and he swung his arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "Let's go." He led Crutchie through the gate and to his usual selling spot. The headline wasn't bad - Murder Witness Locked Up - so Crutchie was out of papes before lunch. He limped up to the racetrack and went to find Race.

"Are you done yet?" Crutchie asked as he snuck up on the older boy.

Race jumped then turned around, scowling at Crutchie. "Not yet. Not all of us have your special limp." Crutchie groaned but went and found a bench to rest his aching leg. It was late afternoon, about 3:00, before Race finished. Crutchie had fallen in a light doze while waiting on his brother but he couldn't have been more happy than when Race finally tapped his shoulder and he was startled awake.

"Ya ready to go?" he asked as Crutchie's eyes shot open, and the younger boy quickly nodded and jumped up. He followed Race throughout the grid city before they came to a stop outside Medda's theater. Race took a deep breath and appeared to be steeling himself before he finally pushed the door open.

The room was dark and empty besides a small body that lay on top of a cot. It took Crutchie a couple seconds to realize that the body was Jack's. He looked much better than he had at the Refuge. He was still unnaturally pale, but most of the bruises had faded and the blood had been wiped away. Crutchie could see his ribs through the pristine bandages that were wrapped tightly around his chest. His leg was still swollen and obvious under his pants. His hair was long and matted down on his head, but he appeared peaceful. Finally.

"He hasn't woken up yet?" Crutchie asked, his eyes not leaving Jack.

Race shook his head. "No, but he cries in his sleep sometimes. He's been calling for ya."

Crutchie limped forward and sat on the edge of Jack's cot. The older boy didn't move. Crutchie found his stillness unnerving. Jack always seemed to be moving, rushing around and helping any of his boys. He didn't get to relax very often, no matter how often Crutchie tried to convince him to slow down. Now, seeing him like this, Crutchie would give anything for him to be fighting the Delancey's or even comforting him in the Refuge. Just anything other that this small, frail boy who laid, dying, alone.

Jack started rolling on the cot then, his broken leg bumping into Crutchie. He cried out every time his knee shifted.

"He does this sometimes. Medda thinks it's because of nightmares." Race flinched as the cries got louder. "I'se gonna go get some water," he continued. "Want a glass?" Crutchie nodded and Race left the room.

Crutchie rubbed his hand up and down Jack's arm, trying to soothe the older boy. "Jack, ya ain't there. You'se at Medda's place," he whispered. "I'se here. It's me, Crutchie. I'se here, Jack. You'se okay. Race gotcha outta the Refuge. It's been too long, Jack. Please wake up. Please. I'se here." It took almost an hour, but Jack finally calmed down. His cries faded and then ceased. Crutchie hopped off the bed and stretched his leg around the room. Race still hadn't returned. Crutchie walked over to the door, but a small voice made him stop.

"C-Crutchie."