Autumn, 1894

Race leaned back in his chair, grinning. Romeo was devouring his sandwich while talking so much it was a wonder he didn't choke. Quite a change from the shy, quiet kid he had picked up yesterday.

"And then I told her she had the most beautiful eyes in New York, and she gave me a dime!" the kid was saying. "Ten whole cents!"

Gesturing excitedly, he reached for the salt shaker. The motion caused his sleeve to ride up, revealing a dark, hand-shaped bruise on his forearm.

Leaning forward, Race grabbed the younger boy's wrist, stopping him from withdrawing his arm. "Rome, what happened?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Romeo tried to pull away. "That ain't from today," he said. "It's old. I... I was in a fight."

Race reluctantly let go of his wrist, then lightly touched the bruising around the dark-haired boy's eye. He hadn't thought much about it yesterday, but now he wondered. "Ya get this in the fight, too?"

"I lost," Romeo said simply. He took a big bite of his sandwich to avoid further conversation.

Don't think. Don't answer questions.

Race's eyes narrowed. He had watched Romeo play poker last night. He knew his pattern of bluffing. He saw that same pattern now. Romeo was lying. With a shrug, he forced himself to be indifferent. He disliked being lied to, but the kid was allowed to have his secrets. "Let's get out and sell while there's still daylight left," he said.

"Carryin' the banner!" Romeo said, jumping down from his chair.

Race had to grin at his enthusiasm. "Same as earlier, 'kay?" he said. "I'm goin' off this way, but I'll be close enough ta hear if ya yell for me."

Romeo nodded, and the boys parted ways.

A shrill whistle sounded off to his right, and Romeo froze with a paper still clutched in his hand.

Don't think. Just breathe. Don't think. Just breathe. Don't think-

"Romeo!" a voice said near his ear.

Romeo jumped. "Race!"

The Italian was watching him closely. "Ya gonna give the guy his pape, or just stand there starin'?"

Rome's cheeks flushed. "Right. Sorry." He handed the man his paper, slightly wrinkled from being held so tightly, and accepted a penny in return.

"You okay?" Race asked. "You's all pale, and you's shakin'." He glanced in the direction Romeo had been staring, his gaze falling on a blue-coated police officer dragging a young boy off somewhere by his collar.

What was it Romeo had said? "Ya don't make it though a year on the streets without lyin' some."

"Romeo, listen ta me," he said, taking the younger boy by the shoulders. "You's a newsie now. This right here?" He held up his empty canvas bag. He must have sold out early and decided to seek Romeo out. "This is like a badge ta get ya anywhere in the city. So long as you's not stealin' or nothin', the bulls won't stop ya. Got that?"

Romeo nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice coming out a little shaky. "I..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I's only got three papes left. Lemme sell these, and we can head back ta the lodging house."

Race nodded. "Works for me," he said, finding a park bench to sit on. He stuck a cigar in his mouth, but didn't light it. He was too busy watching Romeo. The kid was like one of those dime novels Jack liked to read. Not one of the western ones, a mystery. Race's face shifted into a grin. He liked mysteries.

"Time ta get up!" Butch shouted from the doorway.

Romeo started awake, sitting up and nearly hitting his head on the bed above him.

"C'mon, boys," Butch was saying with a grin. "Get up and seize the day! We got papes ta sell!"

Romeo crawled out of bed, grabbing his clothes. He paused for a second to watch Butch, remembering what Race had told him about the Manhattan leader. He used to be a butcher's boy, hence the nickname. He was only sixteen, but he looked older, making it harder to sell. Even so, he sold ninety papes a day, no matter the headline, the most out of anyone in the Lodge House. The boys said he had a girl, one he snuck out to meet every night. "As if we don't know what he's doin'," Jack had snorted, sounding much older than his twelve years.

Heading into the washroom, Romeo grinned. The fearless Manhattan leader was dunking a still-drowsy Kid Blink's head in the washtub. "Get dressed, ya bummers!" he laughed, passing Romeo on his way out.

"Someone's in a hurry," Jack piped up. "Goin' ta meet a special goil, are we?"

Butch pointed at him. "Watch it, Kelly, unless you want a soakin' next." His face split into a grin and he gestured to Kid Blink, who was now very much awake and drying himself off. "Get it? A soakin'?" Several boys threw towels at him as he ducked out of the room, his laughter carrying up the stairs.

Romeo washed his face and used the bathroom, taking his own sweet time until he was the only one in the washroom. He was in the process of changing, his back to the door, when Race came in.

"Kid, what's takin' ya so long? We gotta..." He trailed off, staring at Romeo's bare back. An ugly mess of deep purple bruises and cuts still tipped with dried blood stained the younger boy's pale skin.

"What happened ta you?"Race asked, a touch of horror in his voice.

Romeo whirled around to face him, pulling his shirt over his head quickly. "A... a fight," he said lamely.

Race shook his head. "Don't even bother lyin' this time," he said. "Ya don't get bruises like that in a fight! And not some back-alley soakin', neither. Rome, what happened?"

Romeo opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say. "I was in the Refuge," he said finally.

Race's eyes widened. "The Refuge? Kid, when was this?"

"They let me out ten days ago, I think," Romeo said, avoiding the older boy's gaze. "C'mon, let's go get breakfast."

He started for the door, but Race stopped him. "How long they keep ya there?"

"A month," Romeo said. "Race, I gotta go sell. Let's go."

"Fine," Race relented. "We's gonna talk about this later, though, right?"

"Yeah, okay," Romeo said, heading downstairs.

Romeo glanced up as Race came into the bunk room. "Where'd ya sell today?" he asked. "I looked, but I didn't see ya."

"I went back ta Sheepshead," Race responded, sitting on the bottom bunk beside Romeo. "Thought it was best ta give ya some space."

"Thanks," Romeo said, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. The other boys were starting to get back, but he ignored them. They would be too busy with their own games, discussions, and fights to pay Race and Romeo any mind. "I know you's got questions, so just ask 'em," he said finally.

Race hesitated, trying to find the right way to phrase his question. "What were ya in for?" he asked at last.

Romeo lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I got caught pickin' someone's pocket."

Race's brows furrowed. "Kids on the streets pick pockets all the time," he said. "That wouldn't get ya a month in the Refuge."

"You're right," Romeo agreed. "But I messed up. I picked Snyder's pocket."

Race let out a low whistle through his teeth. Romeo acknowledged him with a nod and pressed on.

"I had stayed in the Bronx up 'til then. I knew the area there, and it was home. But he dragged me off ta the Refuge in Manhattan- here. It... it was bad, Race. I like people. I like bein' around 'em. You's seen me sellin' papes. Ya know that. But in that place, I was all on my own. I hear Jack tell stories 'bout sharin' a bed with three or four other boys, but it wasn't like that. Not for me, anyway. I never saw anotha' kid the whole time i was there. I thought id go crazy." He hesitated, his voice getting quieter. "Jack's right about Snyder, Race. He's a spider. He knows how ta get in your head, how ta make ya feel like you's nothing. That was worse than gettin' beat up. Anyone can throw a couple punches, y'know? But I's never met another man like Snyder, and I hope I never will."

He sounded so weary, like he had lived a long time. "I remember this one night," he said. His eyes were fastened on his fingers, tracing patterns on the bed. "I was layin' on my bed, and I could see the moon through the window. The window was right there, just a few feet off, and I couldn't reach it. I couldn't stand. An' it was so quiet, with just me there." His voice broke, and his face crumpled. Just as he had sounded old and world-weary before, now he sounded young... so, so young.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Race pulled Romeo into a hug. The younger boy melted into his embrace.

Don't think. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Race didn't know what to do. So, he did what he did best. He started to talk.

"I joined the newsies when I was 'bout nine," he said. "I lived with my family 'fore that. Ya ever meet an Italian family? Crazy bunch. I'm the only one who's allowed ta call 'em that, though."

Romeo didn't move from his spot, his face still hidden in the older boy's shirtsleeve, but Race could tell he was listening.

Don't think. Breathe and listen to Race.

"My nonna was the best cook there ever was," Racetrack continued. "And she didn't let no one else in her kitchen. She was the sweetest little old lady, but she had a mean streak in her."

Romeo shifted positions, his big brown eyes peering up at Race. "What happened to her?"

"She... well, died," Race said. "My folks, too, right afta her. Factory fire."

"Do ya miss 'em?" Romeo asked.

"My folks?" Race said. "Yeah, I miss 'em." His voice had lost the sarcastic edge to it and was uncharacteristically soft.

"I miss mine, too," Romeo said in a low voice.

No, no, no, Race thought. This wasn't s'posed ta make him more sad!

"Y'know what, Romeo?" he said, twisting to face him. "We'se can be our own family. Brothers, you and me. Whaddaya say?"

A smile spread across Romeo's face. "I'd like that."

Butch crept up the stairs, avoiding the one that creaked. For such a big guy, he was surprisingly adept at sneaking into places. Like his own lodging house when he had stayed out after curfew.

Undressing in the dark, he tossed his shirt in the sink to soak. His Elizabeth had left a lipstick stain on the collar, and he knew if the boys caught sight of that he would never hear the end of it. With a wry grin, the Manhattan leader tiptoed into the bunk room, trying not to disturb the sleeping boys. His bed was near the end, close to Race and the new kid.

Speaking a' Race, where is he? The top bunk was empty. Crouching down, Butch caught a glimpse of Race and Romeo, both asleep on the bottom bunk. "Looks like you's fittin' in just fine," he whispered to the sleeping Romeo.

A smile spread across his face. "G'night, boys."

(A/N): Hey guys! This chapter is on the longer side, but I think it was worth it. Shoutout to Sheila Prior, who requested I write my take on Romeo's time in the Refuge.

GUESS WHAT? My brother got me the Newsies movie for my birthday! I love him, he's the best. I guess that's what brothers are for. :3

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Let me know what you think of Romeo's time in the Refuge in a review, and what you think about Butch! He's not super important, just an OC I created just for this story. I didn't think it was realistic for Jack to be leading Manhattan at the age of twelve. We can't all be Spot Conlon, unfortunately.

Don't forget to read, review, follow, favorite, and keep carryin' the banner!