"Jack! Wake up, Jack!"
"Holy mother of-"
"What the hell is going on?!"
"I don't know, damn it! Jack!"
"Good lord, you're not shaking him right-"
"What?! There isn't a right way to shake someone, you just shake him!"
"It's getting louder..."
"Shake him harder! Quick! They're... They're... Oh god, are they breaking down the door?"
"He's dead. There's no other explanation, Cowboy's dead if he hasn't woken up yet-"
"Alright, on the count of three! One, two, three-"
"JACK!"
The boy jolted awake, flailing about and nailing Itey in the face with his foot.
"Whuzza- I didn't do nothing!"
"Jack!" Snitch hissed. "We're being attacked!"
"What?!" He sat up, eyes wide. "Where? Who?"
"We don't know!" Itey grumbled, massaging his face. "There's a lot of them though! And they're trying to get in and-"
Itey was cut off by some of the loudest banging Jack had ever heard in his life. Over the noise one could faintly hear the sound of muffled voices, bickering and talking on top of each other. One voice rose above the din, however.
"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?"
Everyone stared at Jack, some on his bunk, some on surrounding bunks, and some scattered across the floor like they'd been knocked out by their bunk mates.
And Jack? Jack froze, eyes widening in realization.
"Don't freak out- God DAMN IT, Mush!" He hollered suddenly, jumping out of bed. "All of you! Get dressed, now!"
Jack himself threw on his clothes in record time, stumbling down the stairs while still buttoning up his shirt.
He threw open the doors, recoiling as seven some- odd flashes of light burst in his face. The reporters were hollering questions, thrusting pads of paper and hands in his face.
"Alright! ALRIGHT! SETTLE DOWN!" He hollered, and the crowd fell silent. "WHERE YOU GUYS FROM, HUH?!"
Nearly in sync, they all replied with a chorus of "The World".
"Alright. ALRIGHT!" Jack massaged his temples, looking as stressed as ever. "AS ALL OF YOU PROBABLY KNOW, MUSH, OR THE HERO, CAME TO YOUR OFFICE WITHOUT TELLING ANY OF US, AND TOLD YOU WHERE WE LIVE. AM. I. RIGHT?"
There was a murmur of agreement.
"HERE'S THE DEAL. YOU CAN COME IN. YOU CAN ASK ANY OF US QUESTIONS ABOUT THE PEOPLE INVOLVED IN- IN THE INCIDENT, BUT YOU CAN'T SEE SPO-" He cut himself off, coughing into his fist. "I- I MEAN THE CAPTAIN AND THE BRAVE. ALRIGHT?"
There was no answer.
"ALRIGHT?!"
"Right."
"Yeah, sure."
"Sounds good."
"Yup."
"OKAY." Jack cleared his voice hoarsely. "COME ON IN."
Normally, the newsies would be ecstatic over the chance to get into the papers. Now, though, most of them were upstairs, and those choosing to brave the bright flashes and pestering questions weren't happy about it. The situation didn't call for it, to be honest.
Jack was getting the brunt of the questions at the beginning, but he then started migrating around, making sure none of his kids were getting overwhelmed by the overenthusiastic reporters.
Everything they knew about Race, Spot, Skittery, Blink and Mush was being made public. The names they went by (real names weren't tossed around, even when lives stood in the balance), their personalities, opinions, ages... Everything.
Jack only hoped that Mush knew what he was doing.
Speaking of which, as soon as as Blink staggered down the steps, flashes and questions were flying. Jack quickly intervened.
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! SETTLE DOWN!" They obeyed, surprisingly.
Blink sat in their comfiest chair, the reporters facing him, and Jack standing beside Blink protectively.
"One at a time!" He shouted, pointing at a reporter. "You! Go first."
"Are you The Rock?"
"That's me." His voice was scratchy and tired, far from the usual happy- go- lucky tone that it usually had.
Jack pointed at the next reporter.
"Your name is Kid Blink?"
"That's what I go by."
"Why do you wear an eyepatch?"
Jack shot Blink a look, clearly saying, "You don't have to answer that".
"Because I don't have an eye." He paused. "No, you can't see it."
"Explain what happened, in your own words."
Blink sighed, looking absolutely drained.
"Racetrack, the Hero, is a real good friend of mine. Spot, the Captain, was like a brother to Race. We're all like family really, but Spot's a Brooklyn newsie, so we aren't as close with him. Race and him went selling in Queens. We didn't ask why. Next thing we know we get word that they're on the bridge coming to 'Hattan and to bring help. Skittery, me, and Mush all went to see what was going on. Just as we got there, we see Spot fall over the edge, Mush jumped after him, I jumped after Mush, and then a whole bunch of richie- uh... Pedestrians? Pedestrians, pulled us back up. Oh, and I saw Skittery get clubbed over the head."
The reporters furiously scribbled in their notepads.
"Where is Mr. Conlon and Mr. Higgins now?" One of them shouted. "I'll answer that." Jack said, stepping forwards.
Blink looked up at Jack, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and the defeated way his shoulders slumped. "They're in a back room, resting. Both of them are running high fevers, and are... Hurt. The... Uh... Inex... Appearance..."
"Inexperienced."
"Thank you. The in-appearanced doctor we hired said that if we couldn't get enough money to pay for good medicine and a better doctor, they would both d-die. It's... It's already been a couple days. They don't have very much time left."
There was silence from the reporters, save for their note taking.
"I think that's why Mush wanted you guys to come here. I mean, you didn't even know their names and the story was still a sellout. If people knew more, and if you say that our friends, one of which saved a little boy's life, are dying because we can't afford jack shit, then they might start caring. They might give us tips. Donations. It's a long shot, but it's the only chance we've got."
"Then... Let me be the first." An old reporter wheezed, handing Jack two quarters. "To donate to the..."
"To the Brave Captain's fund." Boots piped up. He had the same air of despair about him, and it was only then that it dawned on Blink just how close he was to Spot.
"The Brave Captain's fund it is, then."
Jack let a small smile settle on his face, the first he'd shown in a long time. The feeling was easy to spot after days of nothing; blooming in his chest and making his heart flutter... Hope. It was hope. The first they'd had in a while.
The distribution center the next day was chaos. Pure, and absolute chaos.
Organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
The world had extra papers printed that morning, ensuring that no newsie, even those in the back of the line, would be going without.
Boys who usually bought thirty bought fifty. Boys who usually bought fifty bought a hundred. Jack was even carrying a hefty one hundred fifty on his shoulder.
Mush and Blink would be selling with them today, despite Jack's protests. They won him over though, once he saw that Race and Spot were actually looking worse that morning, if that was even possible.
It was a long shot, but it was the only one they had, and every newsie sold like it was their own life on the line. Exaggeration and acting wasn't necessary, though with the addition of their staple skills, no man, woman, or child could resist getting a paper. Mush and Blink were poked and prodded and asked the same questions over and over, but they held strong, putting on a show for some much needed donations.
At lunch, they met up, pooling their money in front of Jack as he clumsily counted out the coins and bills.
"I've never seen this much money in my life." He muttered in awe, placing the last coin on top of his stack.
"How much we got, Jack?" One of the smaller kids shouted out, to the roaring approval of the other newsies.
"We've got over fifty bucks."
That roaring approval turned into all out cheering. Jack laughed breathlessly, running a hand over his face. "The day's only half done, fellas... I think we've done it."
Slowly but surely, they died down.
"If we made fifty in the morning, how much do you think we'll make in the afternoon?"
"Morning always sells better." Said Boots. "I'd say thirty, forty if we're lucky."
"Lets make that another fifty, alright boys?" Jack yelled, and the newsies cheered once more. "Swifty!"
"Yeah Jack?"
"You've got to run over to Brooklyn and find a bird, alright? Find a bird, and work with them to find the best doctor in Brooklyn who'll fix them up for a hundred bucks."
Swifty nodded, then hesitated. "But if we spend a hundred dollars on him, how're we supposed to pay for the medicine?"
"..." Jack swore. "Alright. Tell him we've got 100 bucks, and we can pay him that minus however much the drugs are. If that's not enough for him, tell him I'll work for him until our debt is paid, alright?"
"You got it, Jack." Swifty nodded, before running out the door and towards Brooklyn.
Swifty stepped over the threshold of the Brooklyn newsies territory, and slowed his pace down to a brisk walk. He knew how birds worked; they saw you even if you didn't see them, and if they wanted to talk to you, they would talk. Running around like a headless chicken wasn't going to find Swifty a bird anymore than him lying down in the middle of the street.
That said, time was of the essence.
"Hey!" He yelled ducking into an alley and pausing. "Is there a bird here!"
Silence.
"I'm from Manhattan! I need a bird to help Spot!"
Nothing.
"Hey-!"
"Yelling like that ain't gonna help you none, newsboy." A voice said, crisp and clear; every letter enunciated without sounding theatrical. Swifty grinned.
He had found a bird.
"I got your attention, didn't I?" He turned, looked... And then lowered his head. She was young, very young actually, with a red ribbon tied around her neck.
"What do you want?"
"We've made enough money to afford a good doctor-"
"How much?" She interrupted him, crossing her arms.
"A hundred bucks."
"That ain't enough!" She scowled, but then paused, deep in thought. "But that's just what Manhattan made? Not the Brooklynites."
"N- No, we didn't-"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She hit him in the chest, turning around and leaving him dazed. "Follow me, now!"
"I..." Swifty started, but soon had to stop to catch up to her as she sprinted away.
The Brooklyn lodging house was an alien place for Swifty. For one, it was less of a house and more of a warehouse, with hammocks, cots, and bedrolls lining the ground. Up in the rafters were the birds, who to Swifty's knowledge didn't usually stay there unless they needed some sort of stable shelter.
Or if Spot was dying, it so appeared, because there were over fifty kids and teens relaxing on the crossbeams.
"-Ey!" Robin screamed as soon as she slammed open the doors. "Bugsy! Lucky!"
"Robin?" A tall bird came jogging up to them, with rusty red hair and a matching red ribbon tied around his head. A newsboy followed close behind him, and Swifty recognized him as Lucky, Spot's obnoxiously Irish right hand man. "What's wrong?"
"Bugsy, you've gotta help me." She grabbed his suspenders and tugged him down to her eye level. "Spot's life is in the hands of idiots."
"Hey!" Swifty yelped, but neither one of the birds gave him any notice.
"What do you mean?" He dropped to one knee.
"They're trying to raise money for a good doctor and they didn't even ask the Brooklyn newsies."
"What complete idiots."
"Hey!"
"Shut up." Bugsy snapped, glancing at Swifty. "You are idiots."
Swifty huffed, realizing nothing he was going to say would make a difference.
"How much money do they have?" Lucky interjected, Irish accent as thick as Swifty heard it was.
"Only a hundred bucks!"
"Well, that's not bad-"
"For a doctor to look at both of them AND give them medicine?!"
"... You're idiots!" Lucky yelled in Swifty's face, before running into the center of the warehouse. "Everyone! Quick, gather 'round!"
"What's it this time, mother." One of them snarked, only to be silenced by Lucky's glare.
"Switch, I swear to God, this is not the time."
"Okay! Geez, what!"
"So, as you all know, Spot is dying."
The mood in the room suddenly became somber.
"I know." Lucky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But anyways, until now, we've been trusting the Manhattaners to help them, right?"
"Right!"
"Well, they're trying their best, I'll give them that- that stunt with the papers? Pure genius. But we've got to take it from here, boys!"
"What do we do, Lucky?"
"We pool our money. All of it. Everything you can afford to give, you give it, or in a week-" Lucky's voice cracked. "I-I'll be the new leader."
It was so silent in the warehouse you could hear a pin drop. Then, one by one, newsies started speaking up.
"I have a dollar."
"I can give two, the other two go to my family."
"I've been saving up, but here! Take it! Fifteen dollars!"
"I only have fifty cents..."
"No matter how much or little you give." Lucky reassured, a smile beginning to grow. "Everything helps. There's no shame in how much you have."
"Heyo, Bugsy!" One of the birds hollered. "I stole a tenner from a richie today!"
"Yeah, I've got five!"
"Three over here!"
Swifty stood in the middle of it all, shaking his head in wonder.
"Wow." He whispered. "We are idiots."
"Hm..." The doctor hummed, inspecting Race, then Spot, then back to Race. "Hmm..."
Jack watched him, practically biting his fingernails in anxiety. At last, when the doctor hummed a little too loud, he snapped.
"Well?!" Jack blurted. "Can you fix 'em?!"
The doctor paused, taking out a kerchief and cleaning his monocle thoroughly. Jack grit his teeth.
"... Yes, of course I can." He said after an infuriating pause, not even looking at Jack as he spoke. The doctor opened his bag with a click, taking out a syringe. "Who do you think I am, some amateur?"
Jack wheezed, trying to breathe.
"You... You can help them?"
"Yes." The doctor shot Jack a look. "Aren't you listening?"
"Oh thank god, thank god, oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you..." Jack started rambling, gripping the front of his shirt and trembling from head to toe.
"I have to admit." The doctor continued, injecting both Race and Spot with something Jack didn't recognize, then started fixing their bandages with fresh, clean ones. "I had to go a little over what you paid me-"
"I'll work it off, I promise! Or- or if you don't take workers, I'll get the money in a week, no problem, I-"
"No need." The doctor smiled at him, and suddenly he went from the coldest, rudest richie in the world to... To a pretty nice guy, actually. "I am a wealthy man, Jack Kelley. I have no need to chase after poor boys for pennies."
"So... I don't owe you?"
"No." He smiled again- now that was just wierd- and handed Jack a jar full of pills. "Two a day once they wake up, and do that until the jar is empty. I have measured out 40 days exactly. No more, no less, understand?"
"Y-Yessir!"
"Good. They'll need plenty of bed rest, and good food. Do not let them walk on their own until at least thirty days, no matter how fine they seem. If they don't wake up in three days, tell me, and I'll take another look at them, free of charge."
"And... The chances of that happening?"
"Slimmer than a woman trying to woo a nobleman."
Jack laughed, still hardly believing his luck. It was over, finally. They were going to be fine.
"Thank you again, sir."
"It was my pleasure." The doctor laughed, patting Jack on the back. "I'll see myself out." He smiled at Jack knowingly. "... You did good, boy."
The doctor walked right out of the back room... And Jack never saw him again.
"We did do good." Jack whispered, a huge grin nearly splitting his face in two, walking over and laying a hand on Racetrack's chest. He was pale, mouth slightly open and dead to the world, but Jack could almost hear his laugh again. "You hear that, Race? You're going to be fine...!"
Racetrack didn't stir, but Jack could've sworn the ghost of a smile graced his pale face, just for a second.
"JACK!" The boy in question jumped near out of his skin, running out of the back room and into the lobby.
"Davey?! What's-"
Jack's knees buckled, nearly sending him straight into the floor.
"Hey, cowboy." Skittery smirked, leaning heavily on Davey, whose face was flushed with part exhaustion and part euphoria. Skittery looked like hell, limping heavily on one leg, a bandage tied around his head, and one arm holding his midsection, but he looked as happy as Jack had ever seen him. "You miss me?"
Sorry for the wait! Coming up next... We finally figure out where the hell Skittery's been this whole time. Thanks for reading! 3