What's this? An entirely original scene, concocted by yours truly?

Why yes, it is. A short and sweet (but pivotal and meaningful) chapter for you on this Christmas Eve day.

CW: This chapter alludes to suicide and multiple violent deaths.

Wow, that's a note to start on. Let's just get going.

Part Six: Bridges

Jack tried to stand, and immediately hit his head on a stiff piece of steel. Rubbing the sore spot, he took in his new surroundings. The Brooklyn Bridge spread out before him, with snow whirling around its high arches and cables. In the center of his line of sight stood the third spirit.

He remembered it speaking, and knew its harsh accent well. "Spot."

Shaking his other arm out of the folds of his robe, the ghost lowered his hood. Bruises dotted his face, but the few unscathed patches of pale skin were scattered with freckles. Spot Conlon raised his dark eyebrows, asking, "Whaddaya have ta say ta me now?"

"You're dead," Jack said, dumbly.

"Oh, a smaht boy!"

"Isn't he?" Slow applause sounded from Jack's right side. The Ghost of Christmas Present emerged from the storm, still smoldering– except he was not dressed in a green fur robe anymore, but simple pants and a shirt, with a brown, woolen cap topping his head above his spectacles.

"Specs," Jack gasped, using the bridge's guardrail to help himself up.

"Now he gets it," said Specs bitterly.

"I haven't seen you in–"

"Three years. No. Been dead that long."

The wind grew louder, howling in Jack's ears. "No one told me. Race didn't say– he would a' heard from Romeo, right?"

"Romeo had anotha' run-in with the cops," said a voice to Jack's left. Christmas Past– no, Romeo, one of the youngest newsies of Jack's time– stepped out of the snow. He too had traded his spirit get-up for a shirt and pants with suspenders, plus blue-and-red-striped socks. His face sported a nasty black eye. "He didn't last long in jail."

Jack's heart leapt into his throat. "When?"

"'Bout six years ago."

"I had no idea." So many dead, and he had been oblivious.

Romeo combed his hair back with one hand. "What's funny is, you could a' helped me get out. Davey refused when he was alive, but afta' he died… he must not a' told you."

Jack shook his head. "I'm so sorry." His knees began to vibrate up and down.

"Are you?" Spot crossed his arms, showcasing his muscles. "Ya didn't seem sorry when ya dropped my ask for backup last year."

A rush of cold swept over Jack, and he gripped the railing behind him. "I couldn't get involved in a turf war–"

"Lotta otha' fellas could. One of 'em brought a knife."

Jack had no desire to see what lay beneath Spot's robe, and was grateful when that was kept hidden. "Race didn't mention that eitha'."

"He knew he'd get no sympathy from you."

"He was right." Small flurries of snow swirled around his trembling legs, whipping to and fro in the whistling wind.

"What happened to brotherhood, Jack?" Specs asked, the heat from his hair doing little to ease Jack's shivering as he came closer. "What happened ta family?"

"I don't know." Jack could not bear to look up. "Davey–"

"He left, and you followed him."

"An' then he died."

"Yes he did. Didn't do anyone any favors."

Jack steeled himself and met Specs' eyes. Reflections flickered across his lenses like scenes in a moving picture, showing snippets of the past.

Davey, back in the newsie days, helping Specs pursue the study of medicine. Several years later: Davey turning Specs away at the law office door. An announcement of Davey's death, printed in the paper. Specs, managing on his own, working as a janitor at some university and spending late nights reading in the boiler room. And then, fire. Terrible, all-consuming fire.

Specs mimicked the sound of an explosion with his mouth.

The shaking spread to Jack's whole body, finally reaching his hands, so that he could no longer hold onto the railing. He shook, and his breathing quickened, passing in and out of his lungs in sharp bursts, which matched pace with his racing heart. "I'm sorry," he tried to say, "I didn't know."

A blizzard swallowed his words.

Snow funneled around him, affixing itself to his hair and eyelashes. He could hardly see two inches in front of his face, let alone three spirits. Wind bit at his exposed skin, gnawing his nose, ears, shoulders, and arms like a type of freezing parasite.

"Stop!" Jack pushed the shout through the uncontrollable chattering of his teeth. "Please! I can't change if you punish me now." His eyes watered from terror and cold, and the tears that leaked froze in their tracks down his face. "What kind a' hell is this, anyway?"

"Mine."

At once, the whirling snow ceased. Each flake hung frozen in the air as Davey– or the ghost of Davey, still bound in chains– strode across the bridge toward Jack and the other three spirits.

"You," Jack said, gulping air and squaring his shoulders as he advanced. "You're responsible for this– all this, all the deaths, my–"

"Yes. I'm responsible. And I've had seven years to sit with that." Davey held his chin high, but it shook slightly. At his sides, his hands curled quickly in and out of fists. "Seven years of watching the world go on without me- watching you go on, forgetting the people who still cared about you, shutting out my little brother when all he wanted was a friend. Like you didn't know exactly what it was like to lose your family."

"I was protectin' myself. I had to."

"I know, Jackie. You're a runner." Davey's hands stilled. "But you always used to come back."

"Says you!" Jack balled his hands. "You know how many hours I waited, thinkin' you would show up? I didn't wanna believe Sarah when she told me. I didn't wanna accept that my best friend-"

"I was your best friend?" His eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"You were somethin'. Afta' you, I couldn't risk losin' anyone else."

"Well." Davey folded his arms over his stomach, chains clinking as he did so. "That didn't work, did it?"

"How was I s'posed ta know they would all die?" Jack asked, and his throat constricted. "It wasn't like they got sick, or somethin' else I could a' fixed. It wasn't my fault."

Davey started laughing, and soon enough, his dark eyes shone. "Exactly! You think what you do means nothing, but it does. You hurt people, and it ripples out–"

"And ripples," echoed Romeo.

"And ripples," echoed Specs.

"Until a ship hits an iceberg," Spot said.

Katherine. Les. Crutchie. At the bottom of the ocean. All because of Jack.

"I get it." Jack tried a steadying breath. "I pushed 'em away."

Davey nodded.

"If you were watchin'... Why didn't you warn me earlier?"

"I couldn't. Spirits aren't allowed to interfere."

"But you're here, now." Jack reached for Davey, but his friend stepped back. "Or are you? Is this even real?"

"Your regret is real. Your mistakes are real. Your fear, that you won't change, and will hurt more people you care about, is real. The rest-"

"Is a nightmare."

"A likely one," Spot said. "Ask the fella layin' below this bridge."

Slowly, Jack traced the structure of the bridge with his eyes. The metal suspensions towered above, and the guardrail held steady behind him. His breath caught as he turned, taking in the fall to the frozen river. Below, barely distinguishable from this height, was a faint, dark blob. "No. No."

Davey put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Jack rounded on him, shoving his chest with both palms. He would have pushed him off the bridge, had he not already been dead. "Why didn't you tell me? Why waste time wit past and present if future is the problem?"

"Because it's not that easy," his voice cracked on the last word. "You had to understand. You had to know what it's like, sitting and watching, being helpless to fix anything."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. My eyes are wide open."

"You can be a better person," Davey said, choosing not to contest the sarcasm. "You have time."

"Right," Jack's face contorted in a half-mirthful, half-terrified smile. "Four months of warnin', and if I fail, three people die?"

"Four," Specs corrected. "Sally too."

"Thanks Specs, tha's real helpful."

Davey's sure, brown eyes locked with Jack's blue ones. "You won't fail."

Jack could not believe him. "How can you put this on me? It's your brother at stake! What if I can't save him?"

"You will." But his voice faltered a little. "You've changed the world before."

"Don't say that." Jack's vision swam again, and he hung his head. "Just don't. I'm no hero."

"You have a chance to be."

A tear slid down his cheek, but he wiped it roughly away, turning his gaze upwards and trying to sound strong despite his next sentence. "I'm scared, Dave."

"I know." Davey swallowed, so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. "So am I."

"It's gonna be alright," Romeo said, bringing a sprig of holly out of his pocket. He held it out to Jack. "I believe in you. We all do." The other two ghosts edged closer.

Jack took the holly and slipped it into his pants pocket. "What if I make things worse? What if it's too late?"

Spot raised his eyebrows. "If it was too late, we wouldn't a' shown ya nothin'."

"Focus on what you can control," said Specs. "You know what I showed you. You know what you have to do."

Simple solution. If he could pull it off.

"Remember," Davey said, sounding older and wiser than twenty-one, although he had never grown past that age.

"Remember what?" Jack asked.

"This. All of this."

Dream or not, the night's events would be forever seared into his brain. He would have no trouble fulfilling Davey's task.

"Learn from the past," Romeo said, and gave Jack a comforting smile.

"Live in the present," Specs advised. One corner of his mouth turned up a smidge.

"Hope for the future," Spot said, remaining stone-faced.

Jack committed these instructions to memory, fingering the holly in his pocket. "And if it doesn't work?"

"Keep trying," Davey said, "every day if you have to. Do good whenever you get the chance. Apologize. And hold your friends close. You'll make things right." He smiled too. "I know you have it in you."

Jack rushed forward to hug him- his friend started a little, but eased into the embrace- and thanked the universe when the chains did not bind his arms too. "Thank you."

"Any time." Davey's breath was cold in Jack's ear. "Can I ask one more favor?"

"Sure."

"Tell Sarah and Les that I love them. And that I'm sorry for everything."

"I will. I promise I will." Jack held onto his friend tightly, desperately, willing himself to never let go, to soak up this last moment with his former partner–

Who, before his very eyes, shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.

The idea to have all the spirits (including Davey) confront Jack before the resolution was one of my first ideas for this story, and I think (I hope) I kinda nailed it.

I want to give all the ghosts (and Jack) a big hug.

How about you? Do you have any thoughts on the chapter?

If so, I'd love to see them in a review. (And thank you kindly, if you choose to write one!)

For the final time, I bid you goodbye until tomorrow, for the concluding chapter!