Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The streets of Manhattan were always busy, so it was quite easy for John to follow two kids home without either of them noticing. It was especially easy to follow kids when one was practically carrying the other on account of how much the littler one was in pain. He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach when he saw just how hurt the younger kid was; jesus, he couldn’t have been more than 10, and he’d gotten caught up in one of the most violent stompings those newsies had ever taken.
The older one, David as John had learned from Snyder, was trying to comfort the little one, Les, as he cradled his clearly sprained arm close to his chest. Davey rubbed his back and dried his tears all while navigating New York in the 9 o’clock darkness. This didn’t phase the newsie though, and he seemed to know exactly where he was headed; his body was in control with his feet taking him where he needed to go so he could focus on his hurting brother.
After probably 8 or 9 blocks, Davey turned into a tall apartment building. John stopped behind a corner and took down the name and number of the building before reporting back to Snyder. They might not have gotten Jack Kelly, but they could nab his right hand man and use him as leverage.
‘Poor kids,’ John thought with a smirk, ‘they never stood a chance against Pulitzer.’

Davey POV

“Ow!” Les cried out.
“I’m sorry, Les”, Davey said softly, “but we need to clean it or you could get seriously sick! You’ve heard Jack’s stories about the Refuge.”
“I know.” Les resigned. He held his cut elbow back up to Davey and grit his teeth while he swabbed it with alcohol.
Davey cringed as he felt Les recoil at his touch. He rationally knew that Les wasn’t hurt because of him, but he still felt guilty. It was his fault Les had gone to the strike today, and it was even more his fault that the two of them had gotten separated during the fight with Snyder’s goons and the bulls.
Davey put down the alcohol and cotton ball after cleaning Les’ cut and brought his sprained arm into a sling with some spare fabric he had cut up from one of his old shirts. Les visibly relaxed as the pressure on his shoulder lessened.
“Go get ready for bed, Les.” Davey said while packing up the family med kit, “I’ll join you after I’m done.”
Les nodded soberly and boosted himself off the kitchen table. Davey put the med kit back under the kitchen sink, cleaned up the mess the two had left, and headed to the bathroom to take care of his own injuries. He had been as careful as he could in the brawl, but it still was a big fight against full grown adults.
David pulled his tie loose and threw it into the laundry hamper in the bathroom, it would need to be washed because of all the blood on it. Wait, blood? Davey looked up in the mirror and saw the dried blood under his nose and from the cut on his lower lip. He sighed, turned on the faucet, and ran cold water over his face with his hands.
Thump Thump Thump
The knock at the door both annoyed and confused Davey. Who was knocking at 9:30 pm? His parents weren’t due back for a couple days at least, and none of the newsies knew where he and Les lived. He turned the tap off, dried his face and headed out into the hallway towards the door. As he turned the corner a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Davey, who's there?” Les asked quietly and groggily, he was rubbing his eyes and padding towards his older brother with his bare feet.
“I don’t know, I haven’t looked ye- wait, why aren’t you asleep?” Davey asked wildly.
“Well it’s a bit hard to sleep when someone’s poundin’ on tha door!”
Thump Thump Thump
“Jacobs residence?”
“Yes, just one second,” Davey told the door before turning to Les, “You stay put, I don’t know who’s at the door.” Les nodded and Davey strode over to the door and yanked it open to reveal the face of Snyder and two of his goons.
“Hello, David.” Snyder sneered at the teen. His beady eyes were greedy at the prospect of getting another newsie locked up in his Refuge. He signalled his goons to go into the apartment, but Davey half closed the door leaving a 6 inch gap between the door and the frame. The door wouldn’t be able to latch unless one force on either side of the door won against the other.
Davey went into a wide, low stance while trying his best to shove the door closed. There was no way he could possibly win against 3 fully grown men, but he might be able to hold them off long enough for Les to get out through the window. He turned his head to face his pajamas clad 9 year old brother who had a look of unbridled terror in his eyes.
“Les, run!” he yelled at the kid while grunting to keep the door from pushing in.
“But Davey, I’m not gonna leav-'' Les protested with a quiver in his voice.
“I said go! I’ll find you after, just get out before it’s too late!”
Les nodded and ran for the fire escape just outside the window. He unlatched the window, pushed it up, and threw his legs out before turning back to look at his older brother. Davey was the most scared Les had ever seen him before, and that didn’t sit right with Les.
With a nod from his brother, Les went out the window and down the fire escape. Davey felt tears start to sting his eyes as the door pushed further and further into the apartment, he was losing his battle.
With one mighty push from Snyder and his goons, Davey was sent flying and strewed over the carpet in the apartment’s entrance. He looked up to see the tall, imposing figures darkening his doorway and pushed himself up and around hastily towards the still open window.
His escape attempt was cut short when he was tackled to the floor by one of the goons. He felt his nose hit the carpet, and the sensation of blood dripping out of it once again. The goon flipped him onto his back and he gazed up at the gloating face; in a spur of the moment act of defiance, he spit in the guard’s face. This only got him a backhand to the face as he was unceremoniously hoisted up by his arms.
“Well what do we have here?” Snyder said as he watched Davey pull against the two goons gripping his biceps and wrists, “I think we’ve caught ourselves a strike organizer!”
Snyder leaned in towards Davey, “This can all stop if you just tell me one simple thing, David, where is Jack Kelly?”
Davey gave his most intimidating glare to Snyder. He wasn’t going to betray Jack like that, and as much as it pained him that he probably wouldn’t be seeing Les or any other newsies for a long time, he was never going to betray them to Snyder.
“Go to hell.” Davey spat back.
“Very well then.” Snyder nodded to the goon on Davey’s left who produced a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Davey started to fight against the goons, but was quickly rendered useless when the goon on his right drove his fist right into his gut. As he was curled over trying to regain his breath David felt the handcuffs snap over each of his wrists, tethering them together.
The goons pulled him out of his apartment behind Snyder, and the four of them descended down the halls and staircases. They continued for several blocks before reaching a tall, dark, brick building with a wrought iron gate surrounding it.

The Refuge.

Davey was led through the gates and into the menacing building. In a past life, the place might have been described as being ornate or even beautiful, but it currently was neither of those things.
The stench of sickness and mold, the sounds of kids crying, and the air of dread conveyed through its walls negated any beauty the building had and made it downright sinister.
He was led, more like dragged, up the looming staircase to a room with a locked door. Snyder pulled out the key and opened up the door to reveal dozens of beds crammed into every space of the room with nearly triple the amount of kids as the lodging house had in its entirety. Several dozen pairs of eyes met his, and they were all the same: dark like the life had been drained out of them.
The goons unlocked his handcuffs and shoved him onto the floor. Davey landed funny and felt something in his hand snap. He was sure he’d broken a couple fingers and the pain was overwhelming him, but he wasn’t going to let Snyder get the satisfaction of his yells. He turned back towards the door with a steely eyed gaze.
“Ya wanted hell, kid? Well here ya are, welcome ta the Refuge.” Snyder laughed. He pulled the door closed with him, and once again plunged the room into inky, blackness.

Les POV

It was hard to get down the ladders and stairs with only one working arm, but he managed to get down the fire escape without getting caught.
None of this was supposed to happen! The bulls weren’t supposed to show up at the strike, Crutchie wasn’t supposed to get taken away, and he wasn’t supposed to lose Davey! How did Snyder even know where they lived?
A storm of disturbing thoughts swirled in Les’ mind as he tore through the dark streets of New York City. Would David be hurt? When would he get out? What were they going to tell their parents when they got back? Was David going to be in more trouble for taking part in the strike?
The last thought struck Les so hard that he stopped in his tracks. Since he was a part of the strike, would they be looking for him too? If they were, he needed to get off the streets immediately.
The lodging house doors wouldn’t be open this late, so he would have to wait the night before getting help from the other newsies, and he wasn’t going to make David’s sacrifice be in vain.
First order of business: find a safe place to spend the night. That might prove tough given that he was 9 years old and had no money. The only place that came to mind was an alley in the Bowery that he’d once heard Race talking about. Apparently the neighboring buildings were both owned by an old baker who was used to the constant stream of newsboys who took shelter under the long overhang of his roof, and had grown fond of his uninvited visitors. It seemed as safe a place as any, so Les trudged his way toward the general vicinity of Medda’s theatre.

Chapter Text

Les woke up early (hell, he didn’t get any sleep to wake up from) to get to the lodging house before anyone could leave to find odd jobs for the day. Even though he knew both David and his parents would disapprove of him running around the still dark city alone, he didn’t really have an alternative so here he was. Thoughts frantically ran through his head as he sprinted towards his friends’ abode.

How would his friends help? Would they be able to help? How was David doing? Has he been hurt? Has anyone else been taken to the Refuge? Les pushed the thoughts out of his head. Jack would know what to do. He always knew what to do, so he would know how to help David.

As he approached the doors of the lodging house, a thought occurred to him. None of the boys would be at the lodging house today. If they had given up on the strike, they would have been down at the gates for the circulation bell (which had rung hours ago) before dispersing across the city and if they hadn’t, they would have found temporary jobs to tide them over while the strike was happening.

Just as the despair and defeat was starting to settle into his chest and his stomach began to growl, Les realized the time. It was after noon, so lots of the newsies would probably be getting hungry like himself! Most of the newsies liked to have lunch at Jacobi’s, so a majority of them would probably be there!
With renewed energy, Les sprinted to Jacobi’s. He weaved in and out of strangers on the street, and barely yielded to carts in the street. At long last, the sight of the small restaurant came into view along with a familiar looking redhead going through the door. Katherine. Les hurried to the door as quickly as he possibly could.

“...you got yourselves in the pape!” Katherine’s voice rang out above the rowdy crowd of newsboys.

Les hurdled headfirst into the fray trying to get someone to pay attention to him.

“Hey, is Jack here?” he called out, “Jack? Are you here?”

His cries went unheard as the newsboys razzed each other about their selling abilities and whatnot before Les got fed up. He climbed up onto a table (with some difficulty thanks to his slinged arm) and shouted over the noise.

“HEY!” His yell quieted the cacophony of voices, “I need Jack, is he here?”

“Wait,” Race said with a note of surprise in his voice, pulling his trademark cigar out of his mouth, “Les? What’re ya’s doin here? Where’s Davey?”

Les looked down to meet Race’s bruised and beaten face. All at once, the loneliness, events of the night, hunger, thirst, and pain overwhelmed him and he broke down into tears. He didn’t even care that the newsboys were seeing him cry, he couldn’t keep it in anymore. The tears flowed out of him like a river, and he lost all reality. His vision was blurred along with his hearing, and even though he was consciously aware of the worried air and panic emanating from the newsboys, he could only hear their muffled voices asking questions that he couldn’t understand.

He was suddenly aware of someone placing their hands on his shoulders and looked up to meet their face. Albert’s concerned face looked back at him, and his ears and eyes were suddenly cleared up as his brain registered the silence now sitting across the room.

“Les,” Albert asked quietly in the voice he used to wake the younger newsies from nightmares, “why’re you’s alone? Where’s Davey?”

Les sniffled and wiped his tears from his eyes, “Gone.” he replied, “Took by Snyder last night.”

An uproar started from the intently listening newsies. Katherine and Race quickly shushed them before Albert propped himself up on the table next to where Les had sat down.

“S’okay, kid. We're right here. Tell us what happened.” he said, placing his left arm firmly around his shoulders. Les looked him in the eyes, took a deep breath, and began his tale.

“Last night after tha strike, Davey and me went home. He cleaned up my cuts and put ma’ arm in a sling so my shoulder wouldn’t hurt as much, and then sent me ta bed.

“After a bit, someone knocked, so I got outta bed to see what was happenin. David was mad that I wasn’t sleepin, but went ta the door anyways and opened it. It was Snyder and two of his goons! Him and the big guys tried to push the door open, but David held it closed while they pushed on the other side. He told me ta leave out the window and he wouldn’t let me help him! He said he’d find me later but he never did.”

Les finished his harrowing tale with tears in his eyes and leaned in closer to Albert’s side. He was a tough kid, but he was still only 9 years old.

“That’s how come I was looking’ fer Jack. Is he here?”

The newsies and all looked guiltily around at each other. Katherine eventually broke from the crowd and approached the confused and desperate Les sitting in front of her.

“Les,” Katherine spoke softly, “nobody knows where Jack is. None of us have seen him since the strike yesterday.”

As the last remaining bit of hope in Les’ eyes started to fade, Katherine had an idea. One that would keep Les safe, and help her find Jack.

“Les, why don’t the two of us look for Jack today? We can start with Medda’s theatre and expand our search after that.”

The light came back to Les’ eyes, and he nodded his agreement. Katherine nodded back and took a seat next to the clearly exhausted child. She squeezed his shoulder as Race started to talk about the world being one’s ‘urster’ when famous. Their plights were temporarily forgotten as a giant joyful number broke out in Jacobi’s with elaborate dances and excited voices.

Jack POV

An angry tornado of thoughts swirled in Jack’s head as he painted a new background for Medda. Visions of his newsies, his brothers, being beaten by Weasel and the Delancys and cops ran through his head like wildfire. His ears rang with the echoes of Crutchie’s cries and desperate pleas for help, the taunts screamed at them all by the bulls, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, the yells of the younger newsies who had never been in a fight before, thecrackingofbonesthestenchofbloodthe-

“Jack,” Medda’s voice cut through the symphony of thoughts crowding his mind. His shoulders tensed at the presence of someone standing behind him, he knew Medda would never hurt him, but old habits from the Refuge died hard.

“There’s a couple of people here to see you, the redhead reporter and a little boy.” Her soft voice said the words with caution, she knew all about his past and how yesterday had affected him. Hell, she had cleaned him up and held him through crying sessions on more than one occasion. She padded towards him and came into his view before starting up again.

“I know you want to be alone, sweetheart, but they look like they really need you right now.”
Jack wasn’t in the mood to see any of his boys or Kath. This would seem out of character for him, but those closest to him like Race and Crutchie knew how hard it was for him to get out of bed and be the leader every day. Sure it came easier some days than others, but the nights where he relived being beaten and starved by Snyder made him want to flee to Santa Fe without a second thought.

Lately those feelings had subsided with the presence of Davey and Katherine in his life. Every time he saw Katherine interact with his boys, he got a fluttery feeling deep in his stomach, a feeling he had never experienced about anyone else before. It scared him beyond belief, but Davey scared him more. They’d only known each other for a couple weeks and Davey had already wormed his way into Jack’s inner circle of trust. It had taken years for Race and Crutchie to get that level of vulnerability from him, so how did Davey cut through his defenses so quickly?

Jack shook off his personal turmoil and put on his leader mask; he needed to be strong and decisive right now, not wallowing in self pity. The pair of Katherine and Les was an admittedly uncommon one, but if Les was here without Davey? That meant something serious was afoot that he had to deal with. He nodded to Medda who looked at him with a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She opened the door separating the kids and closed it behind her once the unlikely duo burst into the mostly empty theatre.

“Jack!” Les rushed through the empty aisles and up onto the stage, “Please you need to help!”

Katherine hurried after the boy, shooting concerned glances at Jack. By the time she made her way to the stage, she practically had to pry the flustered boy from Jack’s legs in an effort to make him somewhat coherent.

“Woah, woah kid!” Jack knelt down to Les’ level and steadied his hands on the kid’s shoulders, “Take a breath and tell me straight!” He peered into the reddened eyes of the youngest Jacobs. Those eyes had seen too much pain for only a short amount of time. Jack knew his own eyes at that age had seen and experienced worse, but no one should ever have to go through the same things as him - especially little, optimistic Les.

“Now kid,” Jack said slowly to the now steadied breathing of Les, “what’s this ‘bout Davey you’re sayin?”

“He’s at the Refuge!” Les shot the words out of his mouth before he could start crying again, “Snyder followed us home last night and came bargin’ into the apartment! David held the door closed while I went through tha’ the window.”

“What?” Jack asked incredulously, “Why would the Spida’ come after you’s?”

“I didn’t hang around long,” Les answered through sniffles, “but I heard Mista Snyder say something about where you were, Jack!”

Jack felt his fists tighten. Davey was being subjected to Refuge because of him. Innocent, smart, mouthy Davey was at the merciless hands of Snyder because he fled at the strike. A surge of shame, frustration, and anger flooded through him at the thought of his close friend being at the wrath of Snyder because of their friendship.

Les’ stomach growled loudly. Jack snapped out of his thoughts.

“Les, honey,” Katherine started gently, “how long has it been since you ate last?”

Les took a moment to think before answering, “Yesterday morning?” Jack pulled out of his stupor and thumbed away the tears from Les’ face before standing up again.

“Why don’tcha go find Miss Medda, kid? She’ll get you somethin’ to eat.” Les paused.

“Jack, please help David! He’s the only brother I got.”

“I promise, kid, yous’ll have your big brother back soon.” Les nodded and scampered off to fill his belly.

The remaining two watched the door swing closed. The moment the door closed, Jack ripped his apron off and hucked it angrily at the floor with a shout. He ran both hands through his hair, agitated fingers gripping loose curls. The anger, and guilt, and shame, and frustration was building in him at an alarming rate, if he didn’t find an outlet soon, he was liable to punch a hole through Medda’s newly painted backdrop.

“Jack, I-” Katherine’s comforting words died in her throat. What could she say to him? That it was alright? That everything would work out fine? Nobody knew that for sure, and Jack didn’t seem like the type to find comfort in empty words.

Jack whipped around to see the redhead reporter concernedly watching him lose his shit. He’d forgotten she was there in his rage. He expected her to run at his outrage, to flee and get as far from him as she possibly could. Instead, she approached him and gently brought her hand up to his cheek. She gingerly ran her fingers across the scabbed cut running over his nose and the bruise covering his left eye. When she reached the tender under-eye spot coloured a deep purple, Jack sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and Katherine retracted her hand like she had been burned.

Jack longed for her to keep going, but something in his mind was screaming at him to get away from her as soon as possible. He had spent years building strong walls in his mind, only letting certain people through them, nevermind allow them to touch him. Katherine had broken through all of his defenses in the month he’d known her.

“You look like hell.” was all she could muster up.

“Yeah?” Jack replied with a scoff, “Davey’s gonna be lookin’ a whole lot worse ‘bout now.” He knew Katherine didn’t deserve his brash attitude, but she was the only person here and he couldn’t control his frustrations right now.

“Him and Crutchie are stuck there with the worst man in the city because of me!”

“Jack,” Katherine rebutted, “anything that happens at the Refuge is not your fault! Crutchie and David knew what they were signing up for with this strike, they knew the risks! You can’t blame yourself for what happened!”

Jack snapped.

“Oh yeah, Kath? The strike was my idea! It’s because of me that half my boys are bedridden with injuries right now! It’s my fault that Crutchie and Davey were hauled to hell on Earth!” he bellowed out across the theatre. “Now my little brother and best friend have to endure that man’s fury in that glorified dungeon of a place they dare to call a ‘refuge’!”

“You gave them the courage to stand up for what’s right, to fight for what they believe in! Katherine shouted back at the newsie, “Any one of those boys would’ve gone if it meant the strike continued, any of them! I would’ve gone for you!”

Katherine’s words caught him off guard. She cared enough about the strike, enough about the newsies, enough about him to potentially sacrifice her freedom for their cause.

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘about.” Jack whispered in a deep voice, “I would do anything to get the people I care about outta that hellhole.”

“Then what are you going to do now?” Katherine challenged. She walked closer to him so that their noses almost touched, “Those boys need you now more than ever, Jack, they’re all looking to you for what to do. How are you going to make sure Crutchie and Davey’s sacrifices aren’t in vain?” Katherine stared into his eyes for a couple seconds before retreating back down the stage and out into the foyer.

Jack felt all the anger drain out of him. Katherine was right, he needed to keep the strike going or everything they had fought for would be gone all at once. He needed a plan, he needed Davey.

Chapter Text

Davey POV

Everything hurt. That was all Davey could think when he flopped onto the nearest open bunk in the room. He’d wrapped his determinedly broken fingers in a scrap of his shirt he had ripped off, but even the wind of the barred window hitting them set a fire burning throughout his whole arm. As much as he would have loved to complain about it, there were other, younger kids who were hurt worse than him. The worst of which being Crutchie.

Crutchie’s already bum leg was worse than Davey had ever seen it. His knee was pointed in an opposite direction than it should’ve been, and his hip jutted out an extra 2 inches than it did before. He could barely walk even with the help of his crutch on one side and Davey on the other. Davey tried to convince the Spider’s goons to let Crutchie rest, but his pleas were met with a slap to the face and an order to keep working.

“How’re ya doin, Crutchie?” Davey half whispered to his bunk mate.

“Same as always, Dave.” Crutchie answered with a smile, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How ‘bout you?”

Davey was about to answer but the opening of the door cut him off. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped towards the imposing figure in the doorway.

“You,” he pointed directly at Davey, “and the crip.” An unspoken threat hung in the air. Get up now or I will use force.

Davey nodded, and helped the very fragile Crutchie out of their bunk. They slowly shuffled down the hall, stairs (which was quite painful for everyone involved), towards the door, and followed the goon to Snyder’s office. The warden sat at his desk with interlaced fingers, a sneer curled across his lips when he saw his unwitting prey.

“Sit, boys.” He gestured with fake generosity. Although leery of the impending trap, Davey gestured for Crutchie to take the seat while he placed himself in between his friend and the goon who hadn't left the office. Crutchie visibly relaxed when the pressure was taken off his leg. Davey was glad to see the permanent grimace disappear for a while,but he didn’t trust Snyder didn’t have any obvious reason to hurt Crutchie right now. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t just hurt them for the fun of it. Or to get to Jack.

“So,” Snyder drawled, “I’ve called you here because of a certain strike you both partook in.” He leaned forward in his chair and made eye contact with both boys.

“My informants and resources have told me that Mr. Kelly has a second in command, and given that he clearly isn't smart enough to organize all of this himself,” Crutchie started at the insult, but Davey placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising to the bait, “it clearly has to be one of you two.”

The newsies stared at Snyder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone in the room knew that neither would give up Jack, so what was Snyder playing at?

“No?” Snyder asked, “hm, I guess I’ll have to use different methods. Let it be clear to both of you that I offered a different solution.”

In the blink of an eye, the goon at the door grabbed Davey’s arms and pulled them behind his back. Crutchie did his best to get up and defend his friend, but Snyder kicked his crutch away before he could get stable causing the tween to collapse back into the chair.

“How do ya’ hooligans make plans?” Snyder shouted at Davey, “You gotta have meetings or something to get the word out, so when and where are they?!”

Davey was about to tell Snyder to stick it where the sun don’t shine, but an idea suddenly popped into his head.

A meeting. There should be a meeting of all the newsie boroughs to spread their ideas… like the rally those trolley workers had!

Davey must’ve taken too long to give a response, because before he knew it his head snapped to the side as Snyder punched him in the cheek. His jaw ached from the contact, but he didn’t have much time to nurse it because Snyder’s beefy fingers seized his jaw and yanked his gaze back to the enraged face of the man.

“You answer me when I ask you a question, boy!” Snyder screamed at David before twisting his gaze to Crutchie, “If you don’t, your crippled friend is gonna wish his leg was his worst problem!”

Fury ripped through David. He had barely known Crutchie for a few months, but the Spider threatening the 12 year old crossed the line.

“If you touch him I’ll-ugh” Davey grunted as Snyder punched him again. He could feel his warm, coppery blood pooling with the spit in his mouth

“You think you’re funny threatening me, boy?” Snyder taunted, “I can do whatever I please!”

Davey snapped and spit blood in Snyder’s face. He heard Crutchie and the man holding him gasp.

A stillness came over the Spider as he slowly reached for a handkerchief and wiped his face. “John!” he called out into the hallway. The door opened to a vaguely familiar man who looked to Snyder for instruction, “take this crip back to his bunk. This delinquent here needs a lesson on manners and I don’t think this little one wants to join…”

Snyder trailed off and looked to see if Crutchie would rise to the bait. Davey knew that he could take whatever Snyder had coming for him and that Crutchie was a brave kid, but he couldn’t let Jack down and allow his little brother to be hurt worse than he already was.

“Go Crutchie, I’ll be fine.”

The younger boy nodded and slowly made his way to the man in the doorway, shooting one last glance at Davey before the door closed.

The trio was left alone in the office, and the silence held for about 3 seconds before David was punched in the stomach by Snyder. This relieved Davey, he could take a couple of punches and kicks; he’d rough housed with the boys at school more than once.

His hope was immediately dashed when the Spider made eye contact with him and started to unloop the belt he was wearing. His eyes grew wide at the prospect. He’d heard that terrible things happened at the Refuge, but he'd never felt the sting of a belt before and was regretting his decision to be defiant earlier.

Snyder turned back towards his desk, took out a long piece of rope from one of the drawers and nodded to the man still holding Davey. He was frogmarched to the inactive radiator in the corner of the room and forced to kneel in front of it. The goon holding him took his hand from behind his back and looped them through the radiator with the rope.

Davey could already feel the hardwood flooring biting into his knees, and the chafing already happening to his wrists was sure to get worse the longer this went on. His hands were shaking with fear as Snyder’s looming figure crept closer and closer to the dread-wracked body of the teen.

“What’s got ya so scared, boy?” Snyder jeered, “Your pa never straightened you out with a good whipping?”

“No,” Davey said quietly, “he doesn’t want Les and me growing up scared of him like he was of his dad.”

“Well,” Snyder said with finality, “good thing I ain’t your pa, because I want ya to be scared of me!”

SNAP

Jack POV

Even from the outside, the Refuge looked like a nightmare. An echoing of past screams haunted his head; you don’t ever really forget the Refuge, you just learn to numb the pain with other things. Jack never cared for the numbing effects of alcohol, so he turned to drawing his demons out on the little sketchpad he’d less than legally acquired a while ago. Crutchie and Medda had both told him it was a “good outlet for his grief”, he wasn’t sure about that given his regular nightmares, but at least the drawing helped him sort out the reality from his mind’s twisted memories of darkness and fear. Now Crutchie and Davey were in there going through the very same things he woke up in a cold sweat remembering.

Jack shook the thoughts from his head, he could wallow later, but first he had to make sure his brothers were okay. Or as okay as they could be given their situation.
Jack hopped the rusty fence and scaled the fire escape to the barred windows of the first floor.

“Hey, “ Jack rapped his knuckles lightly on the glass, you in there, Cruthie? Dave?”

A kid who couldn’t have been more than 10 looked at him with a saddened look no kid should ever have, and shook his head.

Jack swore and went up to the next floor. And the next. And the next.

Finally, Jack came to the 6th floor and started his routine again. He half expected to be turned away again, but the kid who answered looked with a face of confusion before it dawned on him.

“Hey new kids, there’s a kid here lookin for ya, says his name’s Jack?”

Hope flitted through Jack’s gut as he heard someone coming to the window, but it was quickly replaced with immense guilt when Davey appeared. His jaw was purple on the left side (likely from a punch, Jack’d had those bruises enough times to recognize them on someone else), a couple of his fingers were sickly black and bent at wrong angles, and the way he was walking reminded Jack of how he walked when Snyder would whip him, that sort of ginger limping that could only be achieved when one was trying their hardest to not move at all…

“Davey…?” Jack asked with a shakier voice than he would’ve liked.

“Jack!” David’s eyes lit up in hope when he saw Jack, like a sailor seeing the beacon of a lighthouse amidst a crashing storm.

“Oh my god Davey, please tell me you and Crutchie is okay!”

Davey didn’t answer right away, so naturally Jack thought the worst had happened.

“No,” Jack whispered brokenly, “no he can’t be-”

“Oh god no!” Davey exclaimed, finally understanding Jack, “he’s not dead, he just can’t really walk without someone else holdin him up.” Davey’s voice dropped to a low whisper, “His hip is looking really bad, Jack, he’s putting on a brave face but his leg’s way worse.”

Jack’s eyes were overtaken by a murderous looking cloud for a split second before collapsing into watery guilt.

“Davey I-”

“Don’t,” Davey interrupted, “don’t you dare say you’re sorry Jack Kelly because I’m not. It was our choice to get involved in the strike and we knew the consequences if we got caught, but we still chose to fight, and the other newsies did too!”

“But Dave, the strike was my idea! It’s my fault they got hurt-”

“They would’ve been hurt anyways, Jack! Either by sickness, the Delanceys, Snyder’s goons, or worse! The system makes it impossible to not be! But now we have a real chance at changing things! A real chance at changing history!”

“I don’t care about history,” Jack cut in, “I don’t care if we get our names in the papes if it means that two of my brothas end up in this hellhole! No strike is worth you getting whipped and Crutchie getting crippled even worse!”

“Well it’s too late to go back now, Jack, so either run away to Santa Fe or help us finish this!”

The words stung, but Jack knew they were true. As much as he wanted to take the cowardly way out and run away to Santa Fe, he couldn’t leave the boys, couldn’t leave Medda, couldn’t leave Katherine to handle the mess he’d made.

Jack steeled his nerves, “So Mouth, you’ve got that look in your eyes like you have an idea.”

Davey beamed at the success before wincing as his jaw bruise was stretched.

“Hold a rally! Get all the newsies of New York together and get all the kids to vote on whether or not the strike should keep going! That way you can plan the next move, and you can get the support of other Boroughs. Show Pulitzer and The World that we are a force to be reckoned with!”

Jack shook his head with disbelief and smiled. Only Davey could come up with a plan of attack while being kidnapped and beaten by the hands of their opposition. Getting the Boroughs together would be hard, but if they could convince Spot to take on their proverbial Goliath, the newsie Davids could stand a chance.

“So, Jack, what’ll it be?” Davey challenged with a twinkle in his eye, “Run away to Santa Fe, or take down Pulitzer once and for all?”

Davey stuck his non broken hand through the bars and offered it to Jack.

Jack looked into the fearless eyes of his second in command and grasped his hand in a firm grip.

“Santa Fe can wait, we got a strike to win!”