Chapter Text
David was never really good at speaking. Speaking to his family? No problem! Answering questions at school? Nothing! Public speaking and being confident in himself? Now that's where he struggled.
When his father had first gotten hurt, David had been overstressed out of his mind. He wasn't sure what to do whatsoever. He was so confused. This accident had come out of absolutely nowhere and hit him like a semi-truck. (I know they didn't have trucks in the 1900s but I didn't know what other metaphor to use here) The night his father first came home from the hospital, he had explained that David and Les would most likely have to sell newspapers to keep food on the table every night, which didn't help David feel better, thank you very much.
David had never been good at talking to people about what he truly believed in, so he wasn't sure how to refuse this offer. He would miss school, one of the few things that made him happy. But he also knew that he wasn't good at lying, which was a sole part of selling newspapers. He knew how it worked, of course. Whenever he bought a newspaper, the headline was not remotely close to what was advertised. Typical for these poor uneducated boys, not even being able to advertise something properly. It's not like David could do it either, though.
When he had told Les, he had been quite excited about the opportunity, much unlike David. Les always hated school. There wasn't much he was good at other than public speaking. Sometimes David forgot they were related whatsoever. They weren't similar at all. And so, the boys prepared for their first day of work. On their first day selling, David and Les had met the group of kids selling The New York World's newspapers. And, their somewhat leader, the charasmatic, unserious, smart, kind, pretty - wait a minute.
No.
Not that.
Too far, David.
The charismatic, popular, and unserious leader of the newsies, Jack Kelly. Or something.
When David -- well, no. That wasn't his name. Not anymore, at least. When Davey first met Jack, the shorter boy had quickly tossed him up into their odd newsboy hierarchy. It seemed that Jack was their leader, but now, he was supposed to be a leader too.
Why?
Who decided it was a good idea to give ME an important job, of all people?
Apparently, Jack thought it was a good idea. Yeah, he'd be the first.
That day, the two had sold their newspapers together, and it was fairly fun. Jack taught Davey how to make up outlandish headlines that would sell better, and Davey taught Jack what the word chartreuse meant. Apparently, Jack wasn't educated on his colors. Apparently, Jack wasn't educated at all.
Later that day, they had been chased down by the warden of the Refuge, Snyder "the spider", as Jack would call him. Instead of running anywhere sensible, Jack had led him and Les to a theatre downtown owned by Miss Medda Larkin. "The greatest star on the Bowery today", who also apparently owned the theatre.
Davey had stayed to watch 2 of the shows that night, and they were amazing. Theatre had always interested him. He had been to a few shows with his parents when they had a little extra money, but he hadn't been in a long while. He didn't really pay attention to that show, now that he thought about it. He was mostly paying attention to Jack. He noticed the little things that no one else did. The way Jack giggled when one of the performers hit a note particularly well, the way he bounced up and down on his toes just for fun, things like that. It was nice to know that he wasn't the only person with weird things they did unconsciously.
And the next day, everything fell apart. Turns out, Joseph Pulitzer himself had gotten bored and decided to increase the price of newspapers for the newsies. Instead of 50 cents for 100 papers, it was now 60 cents for 100.
Yikes.
Not really my problem, though.
At least, that's just what Davey thought. Jack immediately twisted Davey's words and forced them to strike. Yay. Davey had said 5 words. And it just HAD to become a whole thing.
"You mean, like a strike?"
That was not one of his best word choices. Jack forced Davey to help him rally a bunch of 13-year old boys to yell at the adults for being dicks. Wow. And he did. Not because he couldn't say no, (he obviously could! (not) ) but because he liked Jack. A lot. He thought his ideas were stupid, sure, but it's not like we was going to ignore them.
Uh oh.
Shit.
And now, he and his friends had finally made their way to the top to talk to Mr. Pulitzer one and for all. (hah, get it?) He had been betrayed by Jack like 3 times or something, but it was totally worth it for this moment. Davey was going to give Pulitzer a very long lecture, thank you very much.
***
Davey had been leaning against the door for like 5 minutes. That was too long for the conversation to be going smoothly. Jack was currently trying to convince Pulitzer to lower the prices again. It wouldn't be hard for Jack, him and his unlimited charm and charisma. Davey had been rethinking his life choices for a while, and they still weren't done talking. He was about to just walk inside and yell at Pulitzer when he saw something.
Not something real, something inside his head.
It was basically him, but more disheveled. More messy hair, dirtier clothes, etc. He tried to focus in on the figure, and he had to force his eyes back open. Weird. Why in God's name did his weird fake clone have blood on its hands?
Spot must have sensed something was wrong (how did he do that?), because he nudged Davey with his shoulder. "Oi, Mouth, you okay?" Spot questioned flatly. Davey blinked. Hard. "Huh? Oh, yeah." He dug his hands into his pockets. His right hand hit something hard, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Huh," he mumbled, bringing his hand back out. Spot raised an eyebrow. "Ya sure youse okay?" Davey nodded firmly, now just confused. "Mhm." They stared at each other for a solid five seconds before Davey spoke again.
"Y'know, uh, Jack has been in there a while. I'm going to go make sure he's not embarrassing himself." Spot scoffed and looked up at the ceiling. "Knowin' ol' Jackie boy, I'd say he probably is." Davey rolled his eyes and turned to the door. Round two of negotiating. He had this in the bag.
***
Davey pushed the door open only to find Pulitzer yelling at Jack, as expected. "That's never been on the table! What's to stop-..." He trailed off as the door opened. "Oh. This one's back," Pulitzer frowned and stood up a bit straighter. "Ey, Daveyyy!!" Jack grinned. "Thank whoever you're here, I just can't get through ta' dis guy." Pulitzer made some pissed growling noise and Jack stepped backward. Davey frowned and shut the door behind him.
"And now I have two of you to deal with. Great." Pulitzer pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot, just once. "Did I interrupt something important? If so, I am TERRIBLY sorry. You guys were taking a while, no offense, and I got worried. So sorry," Davey blurted out. "No no, I was just explaining to Mr. Kelly here that I simply cannot do as he suggested and buy back every paper that newsies don't sell," Pulitzer said calmly, glaring at Jack.
"And why can't you?" "What?" "Why can't you buy back every paper that newsies don't sell?" Davey questioned, taking a step forward. Jack stifled a giggle and Pulitzer thought for a moment, looking genuinely puzzled. "Well, I-" Pulitzer started. "I don't know." Davey nodded firmly. "Exactly!" Jack cut in. Of course he had to cut in. "See, Dave? Even Joe don't know what he talkin' bout no more!" "Doesn't know what he's talking about anymore," Davey corrected simply. "And Jack's right, for once. Do you even know what you're saying anymore? Or are you just looking for more ways to disagree with us?"
Pulitzer frowned. "Mr..." "Jacobs. David- err..Davey Jacobs." "Mr. Jacobs. I suggest you leave me and Mr. Kelly alone." Davey nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Sorry. Just got a bit worried. Finish up." He turned to Jack. "Please." Jack nodded firmly and Davey turned away, heading for the door. Pulitzer and Jack immediately went back to arguing. He was angry. At Pulitzer, for starting all of this in the first place. At Spot, for being a huge dick. At Jack, for..well..he didn't know. And at himself, for ruining everything.
As Davey reached out to grab the door handle, a voice rang out in his head.
Why do you not get it?
Davey paused. "What? Get what?" He whispered to no one in particular.
Why don't you get it? It's not your fault, it's theirs. Although, you aren't in the clear.
"What are you talking about? Who even are you?!"
Oh, my dear sweet David. Don't you get it? I'm you. I'm a better, more mature, and more cool version of little old you. And I can help you become like me.
"What do you mean...'become like you'?"
I mean that with my help, you could become more happy and free. We could get revenge on those who've wronged us. David- don't you see? I can fix you. Please. Just let me fix you.
"I-I don't know. What would I have to do?"
Just close your eyes and let me do the rest.
"Promise?"
Promise.
And he did. He closed his eyes.
*** (hah I finally redid it >:3)
Davey wasn't 100% what happened in those 20 seconds in the darkness, but after about 25 seconds of closing his eyes, he heard a loud noise and his eyes shot open. Davey blinked.
Told ya I would help. Thank me later.
Davey honestly couldn't believe what was in front of him. It had to be just a dream. This couldn't be happening.
It's real, dumbass. You're awake.
"Holy shit..." Davey managed to choke out.
There, in a mini-puddle of blood (that poor carpet..), lay Pulitzer, facing away from him. Blood was oozing out of a small hole in the back of his neck. Davey looked down. Ew. It got on his shoes. He managed to bring his gaze to his own hands. They were shaking, of course, but his right hand had a...a...weird. Where did he get that?
"Oh my God, Dave. What in the fuck did ya just do..?" Davey jumped. He looked up again. And there was Jack. The boy he had admired so much. Just standing there. Staring at him. "I-" Davey stuttered. Jack sniffled. "What is wrong with you? You're a monster." His grammar was so perfect there that it didn't even seem real. "Jack, I didn't.."
"No, Dave. You did."
At that moment, Spot and Katherine came rushing into the room.
Ooo, yay!! We're getting somewhere!!
SHUT. UP.
"Jack? What's going on? We heard-" Katherine immediately paused. "Oh my goodness." Tears started falling down her face and she dropped to the floor. "Father, no.. " Katherine gently shook Pulitzer's lifeless body. "No, please..." Spot stepped forward. "Dave. What in the fuck happened?" Davey turned shakily. "Oh, jeez. I really thought we could...oh my God," Spot seemed to spit at him.
Jack still hadn't moved, or made a sound.
That hurt Davey the most.
He dropped the object and it clattered to the floor with a thud. Davey turned, trying not to sob, and ran for the door.