Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 48: United
Davey felt the no-longer-unfamiliar rush of anticipation course through his veins as he took in the frenzy of activity going on around him. He'd been nervous at first, sure that they were going to be discovered or that there would be some kind of insurmountable snag in their carefully-laid plan, but as things continued to progress without incident, he found himself slowly setting aside his fear as a growing excitement took its place.
Once the rest of the group had joined them in the cellar, Darcy had given everyone some quick instructions on how they could assist with the printing, and then they'd gotten to it, every newsie setting about his task with a singular concentration not commonly seen in a band of brothers that was more apt to joke and goof off than to pay attention. Even Les was focused, executing his part in the process with the alacrity of a nine-year-old happy to be in the company of his older friends and thrilled to be staying up past his bedtime. Davey had to admit that his brother had been on his best behavior, and even though it was likely that the younger boy's energy would flag by the end of the night, at the moment, it was actually helpful to have an additional set of hands.
An excited commotion was heard, and Davey snapped out of his rumination to see that the first copy of The Newsies Banner had been printed. The boys were passing it around, handling it almost reverently, and the looks of disbelief and awe on their faces reminded Davey of that fateful afternoon nearly two weeks ago when another paper had exchanged hands and hope had begun to rise, the kind of hope that since then had nearly been extinguished on multiple occasions but somehow had managed to survive up to this moment, where it was growing into something stronger and even more powerful than before.
The Newsies Banner was pressed into his hands, and Davey only allowed himself a glance before he passed it off to Katherine...but he knew that he would remember the thrill of seeing their paper in print and holding it in his hands for a very long time.
Things seemed to move even more quickly after that. Katherine read a short excerpt from the Banner, then, with an admonition from Jack, departed on her errand to appeal to Governor Roosevelt as the newsies continued to print off copies for distribution. Davey soon became busy with the task of bundling the papers, working alongside Race and Spot. Before long, they had a sizable allotment packaged and ready to go.
"Time to start sendin' the fellas out," Jack declared.
Spot held up his hand. "Wait," he said. He shot a look at Darcy, who immediately stopped the printing press. "Circle up," Spot commanded.
Everyone hurriedly did as he said.
"I know we gotta be quick tonight," the Brooklyn leader began, giving a little nod of acknowledgement in Jack's direction, "but we don't haf'ta rush." He looked deliberately around the circle of newsies, locking eyes with each one of them. "We's standin' on the edge of somethin' big tonight, and I don't want us missin' that just 'cause we's trippin' over our own feet tryin' to get these papes out. So before we split up and go our separate ways tonight, I want us to do somethin.'"
Davey curiously wondered what Spot had in mind. He'd never heard the Brooklyn leader say so much in one breath, and though the look of focused intensity had never left Spot's face, there was something in his tone that sounded almost...sentimental. But that was ridiculous, right?
People can surprise you, remember? Isn't that what you've been learning this whole time?
"This strike ain't just about us," Spot continued as Davey and the others listened intently. "We's doin' this for ourselves, but we's also doin' it for others. It's easy to forget that sometimes, that we ain't the only ones in this fight. We got brothers and sisters out there too, some tied to us by blood and some not, but they's all part of this thing along with us." His deliberate gaze swept around the circle of newsies again. "I want us to remember them tonight, so that when we's out there runnin' these papes, we remember that we's runnin' for them, too."
Spot's voice took on its commanding tone. "I know you all probably got a name or two in mind already," he said briskly. "So say it! - loud and clear. Speak it out so the rest of us know who we's runnin' for tonight."
For a moment, it was silent. Then Henry spoke up.
"For the trolley workers," he said. "For the folks who've gone on strike before us." He paused, then added in a choked voice, "and for my brother, who didn't get to finish his fight."
Race put a comforting hand on Henry's shoulder. "For the kids slavin' away in factories who can barely afford the shoes on their feet," he stated, a determined look in his eye.
"For my ma, who's doin' the work of three but only gettin' paid for the work of one," added Specs, the intensity in his voice building on the others' declarations.
Davey found his heart stirred in a way that he couldn't describe as the newsies continued to speak out, the weight of the moment growing as Spot's assertion became vividly, achingly real. There were names and faces and stories behind each of the boys present in the room, names and faces and stories that were rarely spoken of...but carried always.
Winning this strike was about far more than just the newsboys.
"For the kids on the streets always beggin' after hours 'cause they don't get paid enough to even eat."
"For my cousin, who lost his hand workin' in the mines and got tossed to the curb."
"For our dad," Les piped up, looking at Davey who gave him a proud smile.
"For our dad," he agreed. "And for everyone who's ever been denied a voice or a vote."
The rest of the newsies continued to speak, some in words heavy with emotion, others in proud and defiant assertions, until finally Jack was the only one left.
"For Crutchie," the newsie leader said simply, and Davey could see the tears in his eyes.
The rest of the newsies nodded. "For Crutchie," they echoed.
"Right," Spot said curtly, his own expression settling once more into its familiar look of menacing determination. He gave Jack a nod, ceding control, and the Manhattan leader assumed command.
"All right fellas," he said, swiping a hand across his eyes. "So here's how it's gonna work." He paused for a moment, gathering himself, then continued. "Racer is gonna be splittin' you up into pairs, and he'll tell you where you's gonna be headed. Davey'll dole out the papes, make sure you got enough for where you's gonna go. Like Spot said, we gotta be quick, but we don't haf'ta rush - be smart about it, all right? You don't haf'ta personally hand a pape to every workin' kid in New York - target the older ones first. Give 'em a stack of papes, and have 'em pass out the rest to the others. Make sure the ones you give papes to knows how to read - if you can't find anyone who can, then you stay and read it to 'em, and make sure they understand, all right?"
The newsies chorused their agreement.
"Make sure you watch out for the bulls," Race reminded them.
"And remember that we're meeting back at the lodging house afterwards," Davey added.
Jack gave them a grateful nod. "All right," he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he addressed the newsies. "Any questions?"
There were none. Davey could feel the energy surging through the room, the collective strength of a ragged but proud militia who had received its marching orders and was eager now to go out and fight.
Pulitzer had started this war thinking that the response would be abject surrender, but he hadn't realized whom he was going up against. He'd thrown the weight of his wealth and his empire against the newsies, but somehow they'd managed to hold on, and the newspaper owner would soon be forced to listen to them and to finally play fair. The newsies had been down for too long. It was time to rise up and to take their place at the table.
Change was near at hand.
After dismissing the newsies to start receiving their assignments from Race and their allotment of papers from Davey, Jack stepped aside for a moment to collect himself. The reminder of Crutchie only minutes ago had caused the burden of guilt to resurface, and Jack fought that burden now, even as it pressed down upon him with heavy familiarity.
He felt isolated, alone in his culpability. It was his fault that Crutchie was in The Refuge, after all. He should have taken better care of his brother.
If the newsies succeeded tonight, though, the strike would be over, and they could focus on getting Crutchie out of The Refuge. He'd been in there long enough, and Jack was willing to bet that he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept soundly ever since the younger newsie's arrest.
There was good reason to be concerned, for the Refuge could crush even the most hearty of boys, and while Crutchie was undoubtedly strong (even taking his leg into account), he'd always been prone to get sick easier than the rest. Fortunately, it wasn't wintertime, so he wouldn't be contending against the illnesses that seemed to spread quicker than Buttons' fleas.
Even so…there were other ways that a boy could break down.
Crutchie had been in The Refuge before. Jack didn't know the details - and, like Race, Crutchie hadn't wanted to talk about it - but strangely, Crutchie seemed to have dealt with his experience in a way where the specter of his time there no longer haunted him. And that was no small feat. Jack had never been able to completely distance himself from his traumatic experience, and Race, it seemed, was still dealing with demons of his own from the past. But while Crutchie had always made it clear that he never wanted to go back to The Refuge, his memories of the place didn't seem to hold the same power over him as they did over the rest. Jack had always been a little envious of that...but now he was grateful. There was something in his friend - some kind of defiant strength - that set him apart, and Jack hoped that this strength was sustaining Crutchie now as he waited.
You ain't gonna be waitin' much longer, Crutchie, Jack promised silently. We's gonna finish this, and then we's gonna find a way to get you out.
A hand landed suddenly on Jack's shoulder, and he jumped.
"Sorry," Davey apologized. "I just wanted to make sure that you were all right."
Jack looked around the room and realized, to his surprise, that it was nearly empty. Most of the newsies had already set out on their assignments; Race was giving some final instructions to the last two, Specs and Elmer, but other than that, it was only the three of them left in the cellar.
(Oh, and of course those two hoity-toity friends of Katherine's. That Bill fellow didn't seem so bad, but Jack didn't much like Darcy).
"I'm just tryin' to take it all in, ya know?" he muttered, hoping that the vague explanation would satisfy Davey. He didn't realize that he'd been brooding for so long and that everything had already been taken care of. He shouldn't have been surprised though; the newsies had been operating without him ever since he'd abandoned them at the brawl.
Did they really even need him anymore?
"You sure you're all right?" Davey asked again, no doubt catching the dark look that had crossed Jack's face.
"Yeah." Jack shook the other boy's hand off roughly.
He didn't want to talk about it.
"If you're sure," Davey responded, sounding like he didn't believe it but wasn't going to pry. He began to back away, but suddenly, he stopped and glanced once more in Jack's direction.
"It's good to have you back," he said simply. Then he turned and walked away.
Jack blinked.
"Shaddup," he muttered, though he knew that the other newsie was too far away to hear at that point. He didn't know if Davey was a mind-reader or just a huge sap, but the sincere, affirming words had made Jack feel a little better.
He needed to snap out of it, anyway. The boys were out running the papes, and he needed to join them. Walking over to where Race and Davey were divvying up the remaining copies of The Newsies Banner, Jack held out his hands for his portion. It had been decided that he and the other two leaders would help with the distribution, but that they would stay relatively close by so that they could be the first ones back to the lodging house. They needed to be available to organize both their own contingent and to run over to Newsie Square (where the city-wide protest would begin) to receive any visiting groups. With any luck, the response would be so great that in time it wouldn't be necessary to direct their allies on where to go - they would be able to see it with their own eyes.
A stack of papers was pressed into his hands.
"Ya good on where you're goin', Jacky?" Race asked.
Jack nodded. "I'll see you fellas back at the lodging house. Don't get caught, all right?"
Davey nodded, looking a little worried, and Race gave his characteristic grunt of acknowledgement. Satisfied, Jack tucked his stack of papers under his arm and turned to leave.
On his way to the door, he caught sight of Darcy and Bill, who were cleaning the printing press.
"Hey, thanks for joinin' us tonight," Jack said, trying his best to be civil. The newsies really couldn't have pulled off their scheme without the assistance of Katherine's friends, and even though Jack didn't like them, he would try to treat them with respect.
"It was a pleasure," Bill said affably. "New York's going to have a surprise waiting for her when she wakes up in the morning, that's for sure!"
"We'd do anything to help Katherine," Darcy added (rather unnecessarily, Jack thought). "She's a close friend of ours."
"Seems so," Jack agreed. "Seems so." He paused. "Funny, though, that she's never mentioned you before, seein' as you's such good friends and all."
"You probably haven't known her long enough for it to have come up in conversation," Darcy said flatly.
Jack shrugged. "Maybe."
Darcy didn't say anything more, but the look that he gave Jack made it clear that he was irked by the ambivalent response.
The newsie leader heard a muffled yelp behind him, and he turned around just in time to catch Race elbowing Davey in the ribs. Both newsies wore looks of slightly guilty amusement, and Jack scowled at them, displeased that they'd witnessed his jockeying with Darcy.
"Hey, what are you two standin' around for?" he demanded. "Time's wastin'!" He gestured towards the door.
"We was just leavin'," Race responded. "Come on, Dave." He led the way to the exit, smirking at Jack as he passed. Davey didn't say anything, but he had a knowing look in his eye, and Jack made a mental note that should either of his lieutenants ever happen to lose his head over a girl, he'd make sure to pay them back tenfold. He had enough on his mind right now between trying to finish the strike and hanging on to Katherine (an objective that had suddenly become more pressing with the upstart Darcy's appearance) without having to deal with teasing from his subordinates.
"Well, I'll be headin' out too," Jack said, adjusting his cap on his head as he addressed Darcy and Bill. "You fellas good with lockin' up before you leave? Kath left the keys on the table and she said we can drop 'em in the mail slot out front after we's done."
Darcy didn't say anything, but Bill nodded. "We'll make sure that everything's secure," he promised. "Goodnight, Jack. And good luck."
"Thanks - I'll take it." Jack shot a cocky grin in their direction, then turned around and headed for the stairs. As he exited the cellar and climbed up the steps to the street, the last one to deploy on his mission, he felt a sense of pride, knowing that everywhere throughout the city his boys were spreading the word that - if all went well - would bring the entire city of New York to a standstill.
In just a few hours, they would end this. Jack could feel it in his bones as surely as he could feel the tingling chill of winter approaching when the first cold-snap was still days away from settling in.
The final showdown was coming. It was already here.
As he made his way purposefully down the street, he gave The World's headquarters one last look. The imposing building with its massive dome was still cloaked in darkness, but soon enough the faintest streaks of dawn would begin to illuminate its proud exterior, and by the time the sun had fully risen, the newsies would be back, hundreds strong with the rest of the city's' working kids behind them.
They would be united. And they would be unstoppable.
Jack gave a mocking salute in the direction of Pulitzer's office as he turned away.
I'll see ya soon, Joe, he promised.
A/N: In case any of you fansies were wondering, yes, Spot's speech was meant to be a nod to Tommy Bracco's pre-show pep talks. Also, I wanted to give the character some more speaking time, since we don't get to hear much from him in the musical itself.
Thanks for reading this chapter - it's definitely got a much more low-key feel to it than "Once and For All," and I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I wrote, and this was what came out. These newsies have been on strike for almost two weeks, and they're pushing through, but they're a little more tired and maybe a little more emotionally drained (though no less determined) than their canon-counterparts in the musical whose strike was only a few days long-ish (and I mean, let's be real - how can one capture in mere fanfiction the raw exhilaration that is the "Once and For All" key change? Answer: One can't. So one doesn't).
If you read this chapter and enjoyed it (or even if you didn't, 'cause that's fair too), please leave me a review and let me know what you thought of it! Feedback means a lot to me. :)
