Chapter Text
“Turn that way!”
They were moving way too slow for Jack’s liking, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Crutchie was doing his absolute best to run with Race practically dragging him by the wrist, but he just couldn’t go any faster.
They made a sharp turn into an alleyway and he frantically tried to pull up a mental map of where Medda’s theatre was; if they could just make it there they would be safe for the night.
He remembered his first time meeting the kind middle aged woman about two years ago. He was ten and had still been trying to figure out how to make it on his own after his dad got carted off to jail. The thought of becoming a newsie hadn’t even occurred to him, so he had resorted to the next liable option: stealing.
It had been an especially cold winter night and he had found himself sneaking in through the side door of a theatre he had passed several times throughout the day to see if he could find a secret place to sleep. He had wandered through the theatre a while before deciding to collapse from exhaustion under a set of stairs. It was incredibly dusty and splintered wood kept digging into his skin, but at least he was warm. He had just come to terms with his situation for the night when Medda found him. He almost bolted after he had been discovered, most people didn’t take kindly to a homeless kid hanging out on their property, but Medda had just smiled and offered him some food and a better place to sleep. He frequently returned to the theatre after that.
A whistle and Snyder’s ever approaching footsteps snapped him out of his reminiscing. His foot caught on a loose stone and he almost tripped; thankfully he was able to right himself in time. He started running again but had to stop after almost running into Crutchie. What?!
He glanced up.
His heart stopped.
He had led them to a dead end.
A tall wooden fence that he was fairly sure hadn’t been there the last time he ran through stared back at them mockingly. Something inside him cracked and he did his best to hide his panic.
Race turned to look back at him, his eyes wide with fear and his voice laced with panic. “Jack?”
He looked frantically around, trying to find some way they could get out or at least hide. Snyder’s impending approach made him very aware of his heart beating in his chest; there was no way in heck that he would be the reason Crutchie got taken to The Refuge his first week on the job.
There!
A couple old, empty, and tipped over barrels lay near the fence that was blocking their escape. They smelled of old whiskey which he would probably regret later, but smelling like liquor definitely beat a long stay in juvie. He quickly lifted up one of the barrels and beckoned Race to do the same to the other; Crutchie stood behind them nervously. His eyes darted back and forth as if he expected a demon to emerge from the shadows– of course, his fears weren’t far from the truth; Snyder was a nasty and cruel man.
With the barrels now tipped up he realized another problem– there were only two of them. At that moment he made up his mind about something. Sorry, Race. Before the other two boys could come to the same conclusion as him he dragged Crutchie over to one of the barrels and heaved him in; he was despairingly light. His crutch didn’t fit inside the barrel so Jack quickly deposited it over the fence, they’d find a way to get it later. “Stay down and stay quiet, Crutchie.”
The younger boy looked up at him with wide eyes and gave a nervous smile and a nod of conformation; his face was paler than normal which Jack thought to be impossible. He took a deep breath before talking again, a fake calm lacing his voice.
“Your turn, Race.”
He turned to the other boy and was met with cynical and angry eyes. “I know what you’re up to Jack,” Race covered the distance between them and jammed his grimy finger into Jack’s sternum. “And I’m not goin’ to let ya go through with it.”
“I’m not up to anythin’, Race; I’m just trying to make sure we make it home safe.”
Jack could see Race trying to be as quiet as possible in his anger as he spoke.
“I’m not freaking stupid, Jack! Yous tryin’ to make sure me an Crutchie make it home, you’re trying to get your sorry butt hauled off to the refuge.” Race’s demeanor changed to almost pleading. “We need you, Jack. You’re our leada’; you can’t just go leaving us!”
“I’m not leaving you. Ole Snyder couldn’t catch me if both my legs was busted up and I was tied up with a pretty little bow for him.”
“You don’t know that! I’ve been taken to the Refuge before and it ain’t no party, I can tells you that.”
Jack was getting impatient as Race tried to talk him out of a decision long made; he almost regretted what he was about to do, but it was only a matter of time before Snyder sniffed them out.
“Sorry, Race.”
“What?”
He kneed him in the groin. Jack winced as Race doubled over in pain and caught the younger boy before he could hit the ground. This might come back to bite me later. He thought to himself as he dragged Race over behind Crutchies barrel; he was heavier than he looked but Jack wasn’t going to voice his complaints. Crutchie watched Race warily as if the other boy might spring up any minute and verbally attack him or something. That probably wasn’t going to happen though.
Race looked up at him through watery eyes and Jack had to look away as he spoke. “Please just stay hidden, okay? If, and I mean if I get caught, you’re in charge of everyone.”
Lying prone on the ground, Race had no choice to comply and he nodded his head reluctantly. Jack felt the little knot that had been building up in his chest unwind just a little. Part of him wanted to say something before he left to lead Snyder off their trail, but he couldn’t find the right words so he just nodded in confirmation and took off running.
—-----------------
Crutchie had never really been in a situation quite like this before. Sure, he had had his own run-ins with the bulls, but half the time they didn’t see fit to drag a poor little cripple boy off to jail or perhaps even worse: an orphan train. New York hadn’t been the kindest to him, but it was his home. He sniffled a little. I wish Mom was here. The memory of her passing was still fresh in his mind and he bit down on his left pointer finger in an attempt to distract himself. He could feel a small tear tracing down his cheek.
“What are yous sniveling about?” Crutchie could barely hear Race’s mumble from inside his barrel. “You’ll still be able to have kids.”
He could feel his cheeks redden as Race let out a wry chuckle. He made the effort to position his body a little bit so he could see through a small crack in his barrel.
“I was thinkin’ about my-” His words caught in his throat for a second. “About my mom.”
“Hmmm.” Was the only response that Crutchie was awarded with.
A few minutes of awkward silence stretched between them and he just tried to focus on the sound of a few people still walking on the streets and the clopping of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone. Gosh, it’s gettin’ hot in here.
A few more minutes of tense quiet that ended up being broken by Race.
“I had a mudda too. Once.” Crutchie saw Race shift a tiny bit so that he wasn’t as curled up. “She had red hair and always smelled of freshly baked bread. She loved me I think. I was just four when she left, probably because of my father.” He spat out that last word as if it tasted horrible on his tongue.
Crutchie nibbled at his lip a little before speaking. “My father died before I was born. Shot. I think he was a butcher, but I can’t quite remember.” He could feel his eyes starting to water again. “My mom died a few months ago. Consumption. She didn’t have a lot of time for me, but I know she cared.”
All of a sudden he didn’t feel like talking about his mom anymore; he was terrified that grief would swallow him up again, so he changed the conversation to a different topic: Jack.
“Do you think Snyder–”
“No.”
Crutchie wrinkled his nose in frustration. He thought that maybe he and Race were finally warming up to each other. God knows that they needed to; they both were never further than six feet from Jack. Until now, anyway.
A half hour went by and Crutchie’s bad leg was growing painfully stiff as he stayed in his curled up position inside the barrel. He had held in his complaints for as long as he could, but it was getting to the point where he felt like crying out in pain.
“Race?”
“What?” Was his slightly annoyed sounding reply.
“I’m fairly sure we can move now.”
“Not yet. Ya gotta piss or somthin’?”
He focused on his bladder and found that he did have to pee, but that wasn’t really his main concern. “No. My bad leg is gettin’ stiff.”
“Ugh, fine.”
Crutchie looked out through the crack in his barrel and was relieved to find that Race was shifting into a sitting position. His cheek was slightly red from where it had been pressed into the ground and his hat was askew, but beyond that he looked tired. Guilt, sorrow, and a little bit of hope all swirled around in his eyes, each one fighting for a dominant position. However, when Race found him staring all those emotions disappeared as if they were never there. He stood up and brushed his trousers.
“I’m guessin’ yous gonna need some help gettin’ outta there?” Race was peeking his head over the barrel whilst smirking and Crutchie glared at him. It was dark now and his (maybe?) friend looked downright creepy at the moment.
“Yes.” He mumbled.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” That playfully mischievous voice was really starting to get on his nerves.
Instead of dignifying Race with an answer, he held out his hand for the other boy to take hold of; Race decided against that option. A rather pathetic shriek escaped his mouth as Race tipped the barrel over and he rolled out onto the dirty cobblestone alley. While annoyed, he groaned in relief as he was able to stretch out his crippled leg as far as it would allow him– speaking of.
“Where’s my crutch?” He looked around and was discouraged to find no piece of it in sight. The streets were now dimly lit and he could feel a slight breeze. He shivered.
“I think Jack threw it over the fence, we’ll get it tomorrow.”
Crutchie winced but conceded to his point, they really needed to get back to the lodging house.
“Alright. Can you help me up ?” His leg was cramping horribly and he really hoped that his body wouldn’t give up on him as they walked. No words came to answer him, but he felt Race’s hand hook under his armpits to lift him up. They both grunted as they came to a standing position and Crutchie wrapped his arm around Race’s shoulder. The other boy was warm and at that moment he realized just how tired he was.
“Ya ready, Crutch?”
He simply nodded and they began the long journey home. Only time would tell if Jack would meet them there, or if he was lost to the Refuge.