Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The screams and shouts were almost too much to handle. At least a dozen men and even a few woman were surrounding two others, cheering, calling out for one or the other to throw a punch or swipe a leg. All the others that sat inside sat in silence, in their own world, ignoring the chaos around them. The smell of alcohol was rich and wasn't making matters any better. Words slurred together and glass bottles were being swung around in the air. It was past midnight. And all this was about to get a whole lot worse if it wasn't for a boy, a seventeen year old, tall, well built, smug, pushing his way through the drunken crowd, swatting away hands that tried to hold him back.

The boy finally got a look at the middle of the crowd and, most importantly, the two special individuals in the center of the gathered circle. He saw a man, at least in his early thirties, in no shape to drive, or even walk in a straight line. He had bright red hair that was sticking off of his head at odd angles and his tie was crooked and loose. His suit was expensive, suggesting he worked at a high ranking, very stressful job. On his left wrist was a watch, golden, its hands set three hours behind.

In the middle of all this commotion was a table. It was on its side, cracked even, and scattered all around it was a mess of cards. But the boy didn't take too much notice to these things. No, no, no, all he saw was the reason he was here. The other side of this vain fight.

Another boy. Clearly younger than the first to anyone but the people in this bar. His short, curly, blond hair stuck to his head with sweat as he continued to dodge and back away from the flying fists. He wasn't exactly as well built as the first boy and, to all that didn't know him, was considered weak. But he could hold his own. Getting into a fight with him would not end well because not only did he have a lot of overlooked physical strength, he was also very fast and very smart. His too small, too thin frame was covered in only an old, ratty t-shirt and some ripped jeans. And, boy, was he ready to put up a fight. Sadly, he wouldn't get to be thrown around any longer.

Just as the old man was about to take a swing, the seventeen year old stepped right in front of the younger boy, who he could hear breathing heavily, suggesting they'd been at this little game for more than only a few minutes. "Whoa whoa whoa, fellas," the boy started. "What's the problem here?" He put his hands up, in front of his chest, assuring the man that he came in peace... for now.

The slobbering drunk scoffed, then gave one, almost humorous, laugh before his face became annoyed and angry. "Not that it's any of your business," the words slurred together, making it hard to understand, but the kid caught the words, barely, as he had to resist the urge to cough when the strong smell of beer met his nose when the man spoke. "But that little bitch," he pointed behind the seventeen year old, trying to lunge at the smaller kid only for the older boy to continue to move into his way. "Just cheated me outta a hundred bucks!"

The boy raised his eyebrows at this. He crossed his arms and glanced over his shoulder at the boy who supposedly did this. His chest was heaving as he constantly tried to catch his breath. He looked up at the older boy with eyes that could only be described as pleading and so the older boy turned back to the man. "How do ya know he was cheatin'?" He asked, knowing for a fact this man was lying.

The drunk stuttered for a moment. It seemed he couldn't find the right words. Then he sighed in anger. "No one can win at poker like it's just nothin'!" He pointed out, making another lunge for the boy but was, yet again, blocked. "He played three games and won all of 'em! No ones that good!"

"So ya never actually caught him?" The boy asked with a smirk. Then he took a moment to take in the rest of his surroundings. He knew his time was about to be up and he didn't see a way out. Everyone was still around them, blocking his view, still screaming for the fight to continue. But he knew if they didn't get out of there soon, things would take a turn for the worse. And, the boy quickly realized soon had become now, when the man's face hatched into a smile and he got a real look at both of the boys, the younger one mostly.

"Wait a minute..." he slurred, "I know what this is!" He announced to the crowd who all quieted down, waiting for the man to continue. "You ain't no hero tryin' ta stop a bar fight!" He shoved the boy's chest with his finger and all the kid could do was sneer at him. "Ya just don't want no one ta call a cop on your underage friend here!"

The boy was shocked that this drunken man could put all that together in his state. After all, he could barely form a sentence but, none the less, he was right. The kid tried to shake his head and laugh it off anyways, not expecting what was about to happen next. The man started shouting again. "Grab 'em!" And immediately, the smaller boy's arms had been seized by two other men, being painfully twisted behind his back.

The younger kid struggled as he watched the older boy dodging hands that were reaching out to trap him. The small boy cried out and tried to run to his rescuer's aid but was unable. And as he continued to try and slip out of the mens' grasp, he failed to see a woman next to him with a glass bottle of beer in her hand. It was half empty and it was raised in her slender hand above her head. The boy just kept struggling, desperate to make it to the other boy who was fighting off the drunks who tried to grab him. He didn't expect glass to shatter over his head and for bitter smelling liquid to cover him as he fell to his knees, trying to push away the black spots that filled his vision.

The boy heard the glass break, followed by the heart wrenching scream of the other kid. The whole place seemed to stop as the kid's knees hit the ground and his head hung low. The seventeen year old looked back at the man as he gave an evil smile. "Maybe we can 'ave some fun with 'em first." The older boy cringed at the drunken tone of the man who was now eying the kid on the ground. Some folks walked away, others joined in, clawing at the poor boy like animals, but no one did anything to stop them. So the tall kid pushed up the sleeves on his dark red, old, zip up sweatshirt, and did the only thing he could think to do.

As fast as he could the kid turned to the man that he had quickly grown to hate, his fist clenched and ready to swing and he didn't hesitate before punching the drunk square in the nose.

The man screamed in pain and fell to the floor. No one came to his aid. He glared at the boy but made no move to retaliate. So the boy turned to look at the crowd that was now shocked into silence. Then as quickly as it stopped, it started again. People were yelling for someone to call the police and others were yelling for another fight to start but the boy heard none of it as he made his way to the other kid.

The younger boy was fighting the darkness that clouded around him. He tried to stay at the surface so he could escape somehow. He weakly struggled in the grip that had his arms pinned behind him but he was trapped. Then he looked up to see his savior step up in front of the drunk bullies that held him still. Even in the kid's state, he could see the fury that filled the other boy's face.

"So fellas," the older boy cracked his knuckles and straightening himself up to his full height. "Ya gonna let him go? Or do I gotta do this the hard way?" He asked, trying his best not to look down at the boy that would be face down on the ground right now if not for the two men holding his arms.

One of the men scoffed and shook his head. Reluctantly, he dropped the poor kid's arm which was immediately grabbed by the other man. He didn't seem drunk. He just seemed like he wanted a fight. And right now, the boy seemed to have no other choice but than to grant him his wish and swing his fists at the man's head.

When another fight began, the man dropped the almost unconscious kid's arm, causing the small boy to fall to the ground, face first into the broken glass. The rest was a blur. All the kid heard was yelling and fighting and it seemed to go on forever until he heard the crowd yelling for more because it had seemingly stopped for a moment. When he felt a pair of hands on his back, about to yank him back up, he flinched. Truth was, he could've handled a fight with one very drunk sore loser but, after that ended, he was sadly outnumbered. He wasn't ready for another fight. Luckily, that wasn't what was happening.

The seventeen year old boy yanked up the young gambler and stood him to his feet, trying his best to ignore the chimes of the glass that he pulled the kid out of. He tucked the smaller boy underneath his right arm and carefully guided him to the backdoor of the small bar, the one the kid must've come in through. He held the boy up, helping him walk out and get far enough away that they knew they couldn't be found by anyone in that damn place.

The tall boy gently lowered the kid onto the ground, leaning him up against the wall of an alleyway, behind some trashcans, trying his best to conceal them both from unwanted, peering eyes. He saw the kid, struggling to keep his eyes open, breathing hard like he'd been running and all he wanted to do was make it stop. He wiped away little pieces of glass that had stuck to the boy's shirt and some to his pale, bruised skin. Both of them ignored the strong smell of beer that covered the boy's small frame as they hid from view.

The older boy relaxed a bit as the boy seemed to regain control of his eyes and look up at him. Though he saw the regret in the kid's eyes, and a bit of fear. And boy, did he have reason for that.

"Are you alright?" The seventeen year old asked, placing his hand on the kid's cheek. The younger boy groaned and weakly coughed as he tried to readjust himself on the wall but nodded anyway. "Good." The taller boy said flatly before he smacked the other kid in the chest, not enough to do any damage, but enough to make the kid let out a small word of hurt. "Anthony Higgins, what the hell were ya thinkin'?!" He shouted.

The boy, Anthony, flinched at the use of his full name. It was rarely used, only on the angriest of occasions would it be yelled in his face. But he didn't answer, waiting for the older boy to continue in his silence. "When I told ya ta get outta the house ta get away from a drunk man that was afta ya, ya immediately go find anotha' drunk man ta beat the hell outta ya?! What the hell were ya thinkin'?" He scolded, hoping no one was around to hear them and call the cops because it was after midnight. After their curfew.

"Jack, I-" The smaller boy tried to speak but the other, Jack, wasn't quite finished yet.

"How long did ya think ya would go until someone found out you was underage?" The boy asked, no longer yelling, but still speaking firmly enough to make the kid look down in shame. "You're fifteen, Race. You had no business bein' in there." Jack's voice was filled to the brim with anger. But Race knew that Jack had just been worried sick. "And so help me God, kid, if you had a drink-" The older boy cut himself off when he saw the younger boy close his eyes and hide his face from Jack's view with his hands. "Race... tell me you didn't." Jack wasn't asking. He was more like warning the boy.

Race shrugged his shoulders and moved his hands, his mouth desperately trying to come up with a word, an explanation, anything that would make Jack's anger lessen. But he knew it wouldn't work like that. So he dropped his hands and sighed. "The guy said if I didn't he wouldn't gamble anymore." He explained. "He said he wasn't goin' up against someone with an unfair advantage."

Jack sharply inhaled, trying in vain to control his anger. "Racetrack, what the hell were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself killed!" Jack scolded, gesturing to the boy. "It's a miracle we even got outta there!" He realized the yelling was getting him no where. Race was tired, hurt and possibly a little bit drunk and he was shutting down at Jack's outbursts. So, instead, Jack lowered himself into a squating position right in front of the fifteen year old. "What were ya thinkin' kid?" He asked, gently this time, wanting, for once, to know what went on in this kid's head.

"First off, I ain't no kid! I'm only two years younger than you." Race retaliated. But then he stopped and remembered why he'd done it. Why he'd risked being arrested for the past three hours while he gambled for a little extra cash. "And I was thinkin' that Crutchie ain't eaten in two days..." he whispered, angrily. Not angry at Jack, but angry at so many other things. "And you haven't eaten in longer. And I was thinkin' that if we just have a little extra money, we could get outta here. Go to that place out west you're always daydreamin' about because-" Race stopped himself as the sleepless nights, the running and the fighting and all the emotions caught up to him, causing his voice to crack. "Because we don't deserve this..."

Jack shook his head as the boy in front of him sniffled and wiped away his tears before they fell. He twisted around his body and let himself lean up against the wall that the younger boy was propped up against. He took the kid into his arms and Race melted into him. He didn't cry, only sniffled while Jack rubbed his back. The older boy looked down at him as something occurred to him. "Race, when was the last time you ate?" His response was Race's silence. The boy buried himself deeper in his embrace and Jack shook his head at his own carelessness. "Race?" He asked again.

Race remained quiet. And Jack grew more and more worried. He tried to wrack his brain for a moment that he last saw the young blond eating something, anything, and found that he didn't recall anything. Last time he'd seen Race with food in his hand... "You gave it to me." The young gambler still didn't reply. Damn it. "Four days Race?" Jack asked. "Four days since you've eaten?"

"Jack, I-" Race tried, but he cut himself off. "You were hungry... could barely keep yourself from shakin'..." He explained. "I couldn't just eat in front of you and be ok with it."

"Racetrack..." Jack sighed, pulling away from the kid so he could see his young, innocent face. He shook his head, taking Race's face in his hands. "It is not your job to take care of me." He told him, sincerely. "That's my job. I'm the oldest. I'm supposed ta take care of you and Crutchie and you're not supposed ta starve yourself for me..." Jack's voice cracked with emotion.

"I don't care." Jack was taken back at Race's response. His voice was exhausted and weak and Jack realized now that Race had probably been seriously hurt during that fight. "I don't care that you're the oldest!" Race slurred, not out of drunkenness, but out of the night he'd given up sleep to earn a little extra cash. Race was exhausted. "Does the word brother mean somethin' to ya?" He asked. "I don't care how much older you are, Kelly. You're my brother and brothers look out for each other. We protect each other!"

Jack smiled and wiped at the unshed tears in his eyes. "Kid..." The older boy laughed and shook his head. "I couldn't of asked for better brothers." He swore and Race smiled at him. But that smile was short lived as the boy's eyes slid shut for a moment and he slumped against the wall. Jack panicked, but only a moment later Race was wide awake, coughing violently.

"J-Jack." He managed to choke out before he pushed himself from the wall, turned, and all of the contents of his stomach, which wasn't much, were a mess on the ground. He coughed as his body searched for more material to dispose of but found none and left the boy dry heaving on his hands and knees as Jack rubbed his back and ran hands through his sticky, messy, damp hair.

After what felt like hours, Race was done. Jack let the boy rest against him as he tried to find the strength to move. Then he heard a very faint whisper. "What about my clothes?" The poor kid asked. Jack furrowed his eyebrows.

"What about 'em?" He asked, looking over the kid, making sure he was truly ok.

"If he gets anywhere near me... he'll know where I was. I'm covered in that woman's beer." Race explained, weakly. Jack nodded and sat in silence for a moment, taking in the silence of a city that was never supposed to sleep.

"I ain't gonna let 'im touch ya Race." Jack vowed, placing a soft, brotherly kiss in the boy's curly blond hair. "Plus, he's passed out on the couch right now. That's the only reason I left Crutch alone with him. We have at least until noon tomorrow to wash your clothes."

Race nodded. As much as he wanted to sleep in the moment, in his brother's arms in the silence of midnight in New York City, the screams echoed in his head. And not only from that night. The screams that haunted Race everyday. The angry screams of his mother who was supposed to be there for them, the desperate cries of his brothers as he was ripped from their arms, the drunken screams of a man who couldn't care less weather they were dead or alive. Race shivered as he recalled these things and realized just how cold it was at that moment, in the middle of September. Almost immediately, Jack's sweatshirt was around him and he felt safe. It was too big for him, but he didn't mind. It was warm and welcoming, just like Jack. Just like his big brother.

Jack smiled and pushed Race to his feet. "Let's get you home kid." And they walked off into the night, forgetting about the horrors they knew they would soon face.

Chapter Text

They had been about a half a mile from their so called "home". When they had started their short journey back, Race had been tucked underneath Jack's arm as he helped him stay on his feet in his state. But after a few steps, the starving boy's legs had begun to shake and give out from underneath him. The kid had whimpered out a cry for help before he almost collapsed on the ground. If it wasn't for Jack's strong arms, he would've. So Jack did the only thing that he could do. He put the fading boy on his back. He held the kid under the knees and let Race rest his tired head on his shoulder as he walked them home. But he knew that if his brother didn't eat soon, things would only start to spiral more.

Jack sighed and tried to keep his brother talking. "Race?" He whispered, doing his best not to startle the boy. The kid hummed in response, prompting Jack to continue. "You really cheat?" He asked, genuinely curious. He felt the small boy give a tired laugh in response.

"My secrets are my own Jackie-boy." Race mumbled, smiling when his big brother laughed at him. "But, if I was cheatin', he wouldn't of known about it." He smiled, readjusting his head on Jack's strong shoulder, so his chin rested there instead. Jack glanced over at the boy and shook his head.

"Ya got the money?" Jack asked, bumping Race further up his back by pushing up on his knees. He barely felt Race nod his head against his shirt and he could've cried in relief. "Then cmon kid, we're gettin' ya somethin' ta eat."

Race didn't respond, and Jack grew more worried by the second. He went to the first place he saw open and grabbed something for his brother to eat, digging around in the kid's pocket for the money. The girl at the counter didn't seem to even notice that there was a boy in there that could hardly stand and looked to be a bit beaten up, or even that he smelled like he should be drunk out of his mind, but Jack didn't care. He grabbed Race an actual meal and set it in front of the kid at the booth they'd claimed in an empty restaurant.

Watching the kid was becoming torture for Jack as he saw things that he should've noticed days ago. The dark circles under his eyes told Jack the story of how he hadn't slept in a week because he'd been fighting off nightmares and was too proud to wake him up. His ripped clothes showed Jack why Race had been coming to bed late and he'd been too scared to tell Jack about it. The bruise on his forehead made Jack angry. When he'd seen it the first time, he thought nothing of it, but now, two days later he knew why he heard something smack up against a wall while he and Crutchie were in their bedroom.

"Race..." Jack tried to apologize as he saw Race forcing himself to eat, knowing the kid had gone far too long without food and now didn't want it. But the boy shook his head.

"It ain't your fault Jack." Race said, and Jack could already hear the difference in the boy's voice. "It ain't your fault that Crutch got sick and you had ta take care of him. It ain't your fault we are livin' with a crazy man, it ain't your fault our mother was a drug addict. None of this is your fault." Race promised.

Jack sniffled and blinked back the tears that he knew wanted so desperately to fall. He nodded as he spoke. "I just wanna take care of you guys. You're all I have and I can't lose you. And you've been scaring the hell outta of me tonight Race and Crutchie can barely stand up and I'm scared alright?"

Race nodded as he finished about a third of the burger that Jack had ordered for him. "You're scaring the hell outta me too, Kelly. Eat some of this and we can give the last of it ta Crutchie. He's probably worried sick." Jack nodded and did as he was told, happy that Race seemed to be able to keep his eyes open for the moment.

It was one AM. An hour had passed since Jack had found his brother. Now the older boy looked up at the latter to their room. Race was standing next to him, his big brother's arm around his shoulders. Jack knew the boy must've been tired, so he let the boy onto his back and he pulled down the latter to the fire escape. As he climbed up, he made sure there was no way for him to drop his brother. Once he made it to their window, he stood for a moment, telling himself to breathe and that everything would be alright, before he slid the glass up and ducked himself and his brother inside.

The apartment was a decent size. Not too small, definitely big enough for one man and his three servants. As Jack entered, he heard loud, obnoxious snoring coming from the living room, which was just off the kitchen. He tiptoed silently to the back room, which was also the three boys' bedroom.

Jack opened the door and sighed when he saw what was waiting for him inside. "Crutch what are ya doin' up, kid?" He whispered, doing his best not to wake up Race, who he knew was now asleep on his back.

The boy in question sat, his back against the wall, on the single bed in the room. It was a double twin sized bed. There was only a single blanket that barely covered it all, but at least the mattress was up off the ground. There were no pillows and the bed wasn't that soft but it was still a place to sleep. On top of the bed sat a boy, no more than fourteen. One of his legs was stretched out in front of him, at an odd angle, but the kid didn't seem to care. His other leg was bent at the knee and propping up a book in his hand. There was a lamp on a nightstand next to him, shedding a bit of light on the words on the pages. And a metal crutch lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. The kid looked up and when he did, Jack saw the thing he didn't think he could handle.

There were circles underneath his bright, green eyes, not quite as bad as Race's but bad enough to take notice to. His short, blond hair stuck off of his head as if he'd run his hand through it many times. His shaky hands rose to the page to track where his eyes needed to go to understand the story. His skin was paler than Race's and a bead of sweat stuck to his forehead. Despite this, he wore only a long sleeve t-shirt and some sweatpants to keep him warm, but most of all, the thing that broke Jack's heart the most. On the young, blond boy's face were tear running down his cheeks.

"J-Jack?" The kid rasped. It was clear in his voice that he was sick. He had some sort of bad cold. He sniffled as Jack walked closer to him.

"Yeah," The older boy whispered. "Yeah Crutchie... I'm here kid, what's wrong?" He asked, worriedly. He stepped into the room further, feeling Race move his head and stir on his back.

"Race?" The boy's voice made Jack's stomach twist in knots. And the way those green eyes were hoping that this wasn't a dream was killing him slowly.

"He's right here." Jack promised, sitting down on the edge of the bed, the side that Crutchie wasn't on, and gently lowering his brother onto the mattress and turning to him just in time to see his boyish blue eyes open. He ran a hand through the boy's curly blond hair and smiled at him, reassuring him, without words, that they were ok. "I found him and he's alright." He said, looking back up at Crutchie.

That was all it took for Crutchie's tears to start falling. The book fell from his shaking hands, hitting the floor with a faint thud. Race was on his back on the bed but still reached up to Crutchie, letting him into his embrace. The boy collapsed on him, ignoring the strong smell of liquor that covered him, not even caring a little bit about it at the moment. He buried his face in Race's shirt and sobbed.

"Whoa kid," Race whispered, shocked at the kid's sudden outburst. "What happened Crutch?" He asked, gently rubbing the kid's back.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, beside the two boys and ran a hand through the youngest's hair. "Ya have a nightmare, kid?" Jack asked, hating the way those innocent eyes peeked up at him with unshed tears in them. That was all the answer Jack needed. "Ya wanna talk about it?"

Crutchie buried his head in Race's chest again, trying to stop his quiet sobs long enough to explain. "It... it was so real, Jack... like we was back there all over again..."

Immediately, Race tightened his hold on the younger boy. No more explanation was needed. The two knew what the nightmare was about. "I was holdin' onto you guys so tight but it didn't matter!" Crutchie's voice was still a whisper but it held so much fear and anger at that day. That stupid, terrifying day. "I just heard Race screamin' and tryin' ta get away and then... then they took me and I couldn't do anythin'... I was scared..."

The room got intensely quiet after that. Flashes of that day filling up their brains like a flood. Too many painful memories of what happened that day, the tears, the hits, the doors slamming and then the desperate screams. It was too much for them to handle.

"Crutch..." Jack sighed, noting Race's bright blue eyes beginning to start swimming as he recalled the horrific memories as well. He placed his hand on his youngest brother's knee and smiled. "We're here. We're together and it's gonna stay like that. That ain't ever gonna happen again. Ya hear?"

Crutchie nodded, wiping away the tears that were streaming down his face and sitting up so Race could follow suit, though the blue eyed boy still leaned himself up against the wall. Then, out of no where, the boy laughed. "Race?" He asked and the taller boy nodded up at him, also wiping away the water built up in his tired eyes. "Why do ya smell like a bar?"

Race chuckled and looked down at himself as he sat up. He looked up to Jack to see the other boy smiling too and so Race pulled out of his pocket, the money he'd made from that night. It was a mixture of paper and metal but it was all real. He let it drop onto the bed and Crutchie's eyes lit up at the sight. "You got all that?"

"We also brought ya somethin' ta eat." Jack added, bringing up his hand with a take out bag in it that Crutchie had yet to see. The boy smiled at them and Jack quietly pulled the last of the burger out of the bag, handing it to his little brother. The sick boy took it gratefully and almost devoured the thing, if not for Race reaching up and holding the food back away from him enough to get some air.

"Slow down kid." He chuckled, watching his kid brother finish the last of the food. Race smiled but then suddenly realized how weak he felt. His head started to throb and his eyes started to slip shut. And Jack noticed in the nick of time.

"No no no no no Racer!" Jack whispered, forcing the boy to sit up by gently putting his hand behind the back of the boy's head as his other pulled him up by his arm. "Ya gotta stay awake so we can get this smell off of ya." He explained, angry at the woman that had done this to an innocent boy that had done nothing to deserve it. "I swear I ever see that woman again I'll-"

"Jack..." Race breathed, exhausted, warning his brother not to go into detail as their baby brother was still in the room. The fifteen year old, sat up, immediately falling onto Jack's chest and his older brother laughed.

"Kid," He whined with a chuckle as he tried to get the boy to sit up straight. "Cmon, I gotta do all this too?" He laughed, but he soon realized Race's tired moan was the last response he'd get from the boy that night as Race laid back down and the mattress and passed out of total exhaustion.

Crutchie quietly laughed as he watched his big brother finally give into sleep. He knew Race had been waking up from nightmares too for the past few days. He knew that Race had been giving up his food and striving to get money anyway he could. The gimp boy was happy he'd finally been forced to pass out. "Ya need any help Jack?" He asked when he saw Jack sigh and get up, no doubt to clean the boy up. Crutchie was about to get up, reaching for his crutch to help in some way but Jack waved him off.

"Don't get up." He sighed, not wanting to cause the boy any trouble. But he did need some help. "Just... try to slip his shirt and jeans off of 'im and," he said, moving over to the single dresser in the small room and grabbing some sweatpants and a sweatshirt. "Put these on him after I clean him up." He said, tossing the clothes across the room to his little brother who was smirking at him. None the less, he still did as he was told as Jack left the room.

Jack walked his way through the dark hall to the single bathroom in the apartment. As silently as he could, he opened the creaky door and prayed no one could hear it. His steps were carefully weighed as he slipped into the room. Without turning the light on, he grabbed a bar of soap and an old cloth, wetting it with some tap water from the sink. Then he grabbed a small bucket and filled it with water before laying the cloth over the side and turning back to the cracked open door.

The boy let out a nervous breath before slipping back out and quickly tiptoeing his way back through the hall. When he was at the door that separated him and his brothers, he stopped. He peered his head around the corner to see a man.

The living room was dark but the faint glow of the moon from behind the clouds was enough to make out his features. He was a big man. He had some muscle on his bones but he wasn't what anyone would call a body builder. He was tall, and a bit old looking. He looked like he could fight pretty well. His grey hair was a mess above his harsh, drunk features and his mustache only made him look older. He wore a black suit, the shoes kicked off his feet, lying on the ground beside the old couch. His tie was loosened and his collar unbuttoned. He was dead asleep. The snoring still echoed through the house but that wasn't what made his presence known. There was more liquor in that house than Race had brought home on his clothing. Surrounding the man were bottles of wine and beer and Jack wondered how he hadn't drunk himself to death already. The boy shook his head at the man that lay on the couch without a spec of a care, before turning and slipping back into his room.

He smiled as he saw his youngest brother already done with taking Race's old t-shirt and jeans off leaving the boy in his boxers. The smallest boy was still on the bed, his bum leg stretched out in front of him oddly, while his other was brought up underneath him to prop himself up, over Race. Jack smiled at him and slowly moved over to his brothers. He set the bucket down on the floor before sitting on the side of the bed and grabbing the cloth from the rim of the pale.

Just as Jack had rubbed the soap over the cloth and was about to touch it to his poor brother's pale, bruised skin, he heard a very small voice. "Be careful Jack..." His baby brother whispered, not once looking up at him as all his attention was on Race. "I don't want him ta start panicking again... like last time..." Crutchie weakly coughed after his last sentence and Jack shushed him, shaking his head and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm gonna be real careful, Crutch... I promise." He reassured before moving his hands back to what he was doing. He held his breath as he made contact with the too light skin.

Race felt something cold make contact with his exposed chest. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. He moaned and tried desperately to open his heavy eyes but found he couldn't. So instead, he started calling out for the only people who he knew would always protect him. "Jack... Crutchie..."

Race's soft, panicked mutters were barely made out to Crutchie. The boy knew his brother must be saying their names, but was so tired he couldn't form proper words. He wondered how Race had even stayed up this long and how Jack wasn't behaving the exact same way, being that he only got, at most, four to five hours of sleep every night.

Crutchie shook his head, moving himself closer to his brother using his arms. He ran a hand through the boy's dirty hair and did all the things he'd known Jack had done to calm both of them down. "Shush Race... it's just us. No one's here ta hurt ya. Go back ta sleep..."

Race heard his baby brother's voice and his whole body seemed to relax again. He let himself drift back into a peaceful sleep, at the same time, allowing Jack to continue what he'd been doing with a small, proud smile.

It took Jack about twenty minutes to clean up Race. He'd had to scrub the liquid off of the fifteen year olds body and then he'd had to run the soapy cloth through the kid's hair several times. Once he was done though, he took Race's clothes from that day and shoved them into the bucket, cleaning them by hand. By the time he finished, Crutchie had been captured by sleep too. The smallest of the three was lying on his side, his arms around himself, only a few inches from Race. Jack smiled at them. He was glad his brothers were asleep before two AM. Now it was his turn.

The oldest boy hung his brother's wet clothes from a bar that hung from their ceiling, for who knows what, dumped the bucket out into the alley way below the single window in that small room and then left the bucket in a corner with the cloth inside it. Then he moved over to the bed, collecting the money that still lay in between his two sleeping brothers and place it in a draw in the nightstand beside the bed. Finally he was able to carefully slip his fifteen year old brother into a pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt before he joined his brothers on the bed.

He carefully moved his youngest brother further onto the mattress, smiling as he watched the small kid sneeze and then subconsciously rest his head on Race's chest. He gently felt the boy's forehead with the back of his hand, relief flooding through his body when he felt that it was not too hot. Then Jack crawled onto the bed, still fully clothed, too tired to change into anything else. He brought the blanket up over the three of them and lay down so his chest was against Crutchie's back.

As he drifted off, he prayed tomorrow would not bring back the dangers of today or any day before that. He prayed that for one, simple day, him and his brothers would be safe. But nothing could ever just be simple.

Chapter Text

In Manhattan there was no such thing as a quiet, peaceful morning. There were horns blazing and sirens blaring and people all out and about and that was fine with Jack. He didn't care much about the sounds that woke him up in the morning. As long as it wasn't a door opening very sharply, making the whole house echo when it slammed against the wall.

"What the hell do you idiots think you're doing?!" A man barked from the doorway of the small bedroom.

Jack bolted upright and found that light was streaming into the room. He looked through the window and took a guess. It must've been eight o'clock in the morning. He looked over to see a man in the door way. His eyes were squinted as if too much light would hurt and he was hunched over like his stomach was killing him. Yet, he still had on a nice black suit and his old, grey hair was combed back neatly.

He also saw his brothers. Crutchie was starting to sit up but Race was laying down still. He looked to be scared to move. He didn't look over at the man, he only looked down at his own hands as he played with the seem of the blanket.

"The hell do you think you're doing sleeping at this hour?!" The man yelled, stomping closer to the bed. Jack saw Race flinch and he was on his feet in an instant, despite Crutchie's desperate grab at his arm.

Race sat up straight as his older brother blocked the old man from his view. He hissed as a pain shot in his head and he heard a memory of glass shattering over his skull.

"Let them sleep, they're sick. They need to rest." Jack stated, calmly, glancing over his shoulder to see Crutchie with his hand on Race's shoulder, watching him with concern as the older boy touched his hand to the back of his head, flinching at his own touch. He sighed and turned back to the man, who was slowly advancing on him. Jack stepped back but still shielded his brothers from view.

"Sick?" The man scoffed, his voice gruff and harsh. "The gimp has been 'sick' for the past week." He stated, using his fingers to indicate that he didn't believe their story. "And you expect me to believe that this," he pointed to Race, who looked to be growing angrier by the minute, "little thieving bastard, is sick?"

The blond boy almost jumped off the bed, but his little brother grabbed his wrist, resulting in the gambler on his knees on the mattress. "I didn't steal nothin' from you! You lying son of a-"

"Racetrack!" Jack scolded, looking at the boy over his shoulder. He shook his head and Race's angry gaze avoided his and shot down to the ground instead.

"Oh..." The man sighed. "Feeling better now, are we?" He laughed at Race and then his features became cold. "I would love to hear you finish that sentence Anthony." He leaned forward to the boy and Jack tried his best to stay in between them. "I'm all ears, boy." He spat.

Race's gaze stayed on the ground. His breathing speed up as he couldn't figure out what to do when the man demanded he finish something he'd surely be punished for.

"He didn't mean it." Crutchie muttered, his hand still wrapped around his brother's arm, trying to pull him back.

"Oh I see," the man sighed. He took a step back, letting Jack continue to shield his brothers from his grasp but the man just laughed and shook his head before he struck. He pushed Jack to the side, not giving it any thought when the boy grunted in pain as he landed on his side on the ground. He stepped forward towards the bed, not even feeling a spec of guilt when he backhanded Racetrack across his right cheek. The boy's head snapped to the side but he refused to make a sound of pain, no matter how badly his cheek burned from the loud slap it had just received.

"Race!" Crutchie cried and the fifteen year old looked up at the kid's warning. He saw a hand grab for his throat and was powerless to stop it.

Jack was forced to sit and watch his choking brother claw at the man's hands, desperately gasping for air as the hand around his throat squeezed his air supply shut. He was stuck watching the boy be slammed against the wall. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself on top of the hungover man and fight him off but he knew that would only make matters worse.

"You have three seconds to apologize to me." The man ordered. "Or not only do you get punished later, but I will do twice as much damage to your useless brother over there." He nodded to Crutchie and Jack almost lost it but he patiently waited to see what would happen.

Race growled but he looked up into the man's cold grey eyes and saw he was serious. He knew he wasn't getting out of this. So he did his best to get enough air to speak.

"I-I'm..." Race stuttered, forcing the words out of his squeezed throat.

"Two seconds." The man urged, nonchalantly looking down at his watch.

"S-sorry... sir..." Race forced out. He felt humiliated. He said nothing wrong, only spoke the truth. This man was crazy. And hungover, and Race wasn't sure if it was better than him being drunk or not.

The man hummed in some sort of satisfaction before he dropped the boy and let him fall to the mattress on his hands and knees. Crutchie immediately wrapped his arms around his panting brother.

Race put a protective hand over his throat as the man started to turn and walk away. Once he made it to the door, he turned. "I'll be back to deal with you later." He announced, then he looked pointedly at Jack who was propping himself up by his elbows on the ground. "And this place better damn well be spotless!" Then the door was slammed shut and the three brothers sat in the silence, only Race's harsh breathing was heard until the sound of another door slammed, indicating that the man had left the crummy apartment.

Race closed his eyes, trying to get enough air to make his head stop pounding. He felt Crutchie's gentle hand running over his back and his other wrap around his torso. The younger boy's knees were under him so he could hover over his brother's heaving form. Race also heard some shuffling from the ground in front of the bed and he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face.

When Jack heard Race's first sob, his heart broke a little. The boy pushed himself to his feet and slowly walked over to his brother, knowing why he was so upset. He locked eyes with Crutchie and he broke under the gaze of those tears shimmering in the boy's eyes.

"Racer-" Jack tried but he found he didn't know what to say. He carefully sat down on the bed. He sighed but knew better than to touch his brother.

"I-I'm sorry Jack..." Race hiccuped. "I didn't mean ta-" Race sniffled as Jack cut him off with a soothing shush.

"Jack..." Crutchie whispered, still holding his brother. "He's gonna hurt him again. He said-"

"I know Crutch..." Jack sighed. He just took in the sight of his two brothers. Race was still hunched over, refusing to look up, balancing on one hand and his knees while the other still held his aching throat. Crutchie was sitting on his knees. He was leaning over Race, both his arms still around the older boy's torso as Race caught his breath and sobbed. His head rested on the other boy's back and Jack shook his head. He scooted closer to his brother and gently spoke, "Come here." He ordered softly, opening up his arms for the two boys.

Hesitantly, Race let himself sit on his knees, still looking down at the mattress and letting Crutchie's hand continue to rest on his back. He felt a hand touch his arm and flinched before hearing, "It's just me, kid. I would never hurt you. Come here..." Jack whispered. Race's teary eyes looked up to met his big brother's. He saw the older boy sitting in front of him, his legs criss-cross and his arms wide open for him. Then, without another thought, Race launched himself at his brother.

Crutchie smiled when Race allowed Jack to touch him, hold him even. Then he carefully crawled into Jack's embrace himself.

Race was sobbing into Jack shirt. His knees were folded underneath him as he buried his head in Jack's chest. His arms were tightly wrapped around his brother's torso and his whole body shook.

Crutchie sat next to Jack. His back was up against the bars at the edge of the bed. His legs lay out in front of him and he leaned into his brother's welcoming embrace. His head was laid on Jack's shoulder and he pulled his knees up to his chest as his brother put his arm around his shoulders. He closed his eyes and sniffled before he coughed again.

Jack held his brothers close. One on the verge of tears and one fully sobbing. "Shshshsh..." Jack soothed. "It's gonna be ok." He promised. He rubbed Race's back as he cried and kissed Crutchie's forehead. They sat there in silence for a long time before Jack heard one of his brothers whisper.

"I'm so sorry..." Race sobbed into Jack's shirt. Crutchie reached his hand over and rested it on the back of his big brother's neck.

"It ain't your fault Race." Crutchie tried.

"It is my fault!" Race countered, lifting his head up from Jack's shirt. He looked at Crutchie with such guilt in his eyes and it killed the smaller boy to see his brother like that. "I can't shut my big mouth! And it's gonna get you guys in trouble!" He cried, recalling what the man had said about what was to happen later if he hadn't apologized.

"Race..." Jack sighed, letting the boy sit up and swallowing hard when he saw that his brother's cheek was burning red from the slap he'd received. The boy sat on his knees in front of Jack and looked down at his hands, waiting for Jack to continue. "It doesn't matter what ya said. If you were right or wrong." He explained. "He has no right ta attack you like that! You're just a kid..." Jack wasn't prepared for his voice to shake. He wasn't prepared for the emotion that hit him like a ton of bricks. He put his hand on Race's knee and tightened his hold on Crutchie, who looked up at him with tired green eyes. "You're just kids who have been through a lot... a lot that I couldn't stop..." Race leaned back into his brother and simply let himself be held.

For a while, they sat there in the comfort of each other's presence. Race calmed down eventually letting Jack rock him and Crutchie slightly, trying to calm himself down and stop himself from thinking of the things he couldn't stop. The things that haunted him everyday. After a while Jack finally thought they might as well get up and clean because he hated to think about the things that would happen if they didn't.

"Let's get a move on fellas." Jack patted his brothers on the back. "This house ain't gonna clean itself." He watched sadly as Race glumly slipped off the bed and started getting dressed and felt even worse when he saw Crutchie shove his crutch under his right armpit and start limping his way around the room. Still Jack sighed and followed his brothers' lead.

It took them three hours to clean that disaster. Beer bottles everywhere, vomit stains on the carpet, and liter everywhere. They scrubbed the countertops and the floors as best they could and they did their best to make the bathroom look new but they were no miracle workers. They did their best and then promptly collapsed on the couch. It was about noon now and the three boys were exhausted.

Jack sat on the edge of the couch, his chin resting in his hand which was propped up by his elbow on the arm rest. His legs were neatly stretched out in front of him as he let his eyes rest for a moment. Crutchie's head lay on his lap, peacefully. The boy's crutch was disregarded on the ground at the moment as the boy got some well needed rest. He lay on his side, the rest of his body up against the back of the couch allowing Race to be silently dreaming right next to him. Race's head lay on Crutchie's chest and it rose up and down as the younger boy took each and every breath. The fifteen year olds legs were bent at the knees and curled up to his chest. They lay there like that, exhausted, until the sound of someone knocking at their door snapped Jack back into reality.

The oldest boy on the couch jumped when he heard the firm knock at the door. His eyes snapped open and he took a quick look around. He saw his brothers, oblivious to the person knocking on the door, and smiled. He carefully slipped his hands underneath Crutchie's head and gently moved the boy to the couch as he slipped out from underneath him.

Jack sighed as he tiredly stumbled his way around the couch and to the door that was right next to the small kitchen. He opened the door until the chain restricted it from going any farther and his face scrunched up in confusion at what he saw.

Outside the door stood a tall, dark haired boy. He wore a nice, long sleeve, button up, white shirt with some black slacks. His shoes were shiny, new and black. He saw a slight smile on the kid's face, a friendly one. One that was foreign to Jack. His kind eyes found Jack's hesitant ones and he just smiled at him.

"Hi there!" He greeted, happily. "My names David. I'm your new neighbor."

Jack glanced back at the couch. His brothers were hidden from view and he was hesitant but he sighed anyway. "Hold on one second." He muttered softly, before he quietly shut the door, undoing the chain that held the door shut and reopening it, making sure there was no way the door would lock if he shut it. He opened up the heavy door to find the boy still standing there a kind smile on his face and Jack gently shut the door, noticing that the kid, David, was trying to catch a glimpse inside the house from over Jack's shoulder. The boy chose to pretend he didn't notice and instead asked, "Can I help ya with somethin'?" He crossed his arms and leaned, casually, against the closed door.

The tall boy shook his head, as if to remember why'd he'd been there. "Uh, I'm sorry to bother you but my folks and my brother and I were eating breakfast this morning and we, uh," Jack shook his head. Folks. Breakfast. Luxuries that he couldn't quite grasp. "Well, we heard some yelling." He finally finished. "My father sent me over to see if everything was ok..."

Jack scoffed and shook his head before smirking. "Yeah I'm sorry about that, Davey." He apologized. "My, uh," Jack forced himself to say it, scratching his nose with his thumb, hoping the other kid wouldn't look too much into this. "My foster dad has no idea what the word quiet means." He quickly stated, nervously laughing as he spoke. But when the boy looked at him, as if he was expecting more, Jack sighed. "Listen, if you guys are gonna be livin' in that apartment," he nodded in the direction of the apartment that he knew had been empty only a few days ago, "You're gonna have ta just ignore everything that ya hear from in here. It's not what ya think it is." He tried, so desperate to get this boy to leave. He hoped that this kid wouldn't look too much into it. But sadly, he was wrong.

"And what is it that we think it is?" He asked, taking a step towards Jack, his eyes questioning the boy more than his voice.

Jack scoffed and shrugged. He untucked one of his hands from his crossed arms and started speaking, moving his hand up and down with his words. "Look Dave," His voice was low and he looked around the hall to make sure no one would hear him. "Ya seem like a nice kid. But I'll tell ya right now, ta survive in this side of Manhattan, mindin' your own business is key." He finished, once again folding his arms over his chest.

David stood there for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. The statement didn't come off as rude. The boy's tone came off as something hard to identify. Something he could only identify as protective. So he shrugged and spoke again. "I'm sorry for bothering ya..." The boy stopped, realizing he'd never gotten the other kid's name.

Jack nodded, understanding. "Jack. Jack Kelly." He extended his hand and Davey shook it, nodding.

"Jack." He repeated. "Again, I'm sorry about the intrusion. We were just a little worried is all." Jack nodded, looking at the ground rather than the boy's eyes. "Listen, Jack, if you ever need anything... we're just next door." David finished, awkwardly, scratching his head.

Jack smiled and lifted his green eyes up to meet the light brown ones of the boy he'd just met. He had a genuine look of gratefulness on his face. "Thanks Davey." He smirked as the boy laughed at the nickname he had given him.

"Sure Jack." Davey clasped his shoulder before walking down the hall to his door and entering his apartment.

Jack sighed. He sadly pushed the door open and re-entered the apartment. That was just what they needed. Nosy neighbors. Crap.

Chapter Text

It was eight PM. All three boys sat awake, around the apartment, in silence. Jack was sitting at the single, small, round table with the single chair. In his right hand, he held a small pencil that had clearly been broken in half if the ridged end and missing eraser had anything to say about it. Every few minutes he'd glance up at the couch, watching his brothers for a minute, and then his eyes would slowly return to the old sketch book on the table.

Race sat upright on the far right of the couch. With one hand, he played with his little brother's hair and with the other he tapped anxiously on the arm of the couch. There was a take out bag at his feet, crumbled up, empty. He kicked at it, bored and was ready at any moment to kick it under the couch as quickly as he could. On his left, Crutchie was laying with his head on Race's hip. The older boy had his elbow resting on Crutchie's shoulder while his hand combed through the fourteen year olds soft, blond hair. The younger boy laid on his back, a book in his hands that rested against his knees. On the coffee table that sat in front of the couch were a box of tissues that Crutchie would grab at every few minutes and wipe at his nose with before disposing them in the empty bag that his older brother kicked at.

Jack knew what was coming. He tried to think of anyway out of it. To stop the inevitable, but found he couldn't. So he just sat there while he could. Enjoying the peaceful moment while he could. And then it was suddenly broken. The door swung open and Race immediately kicked the take out bag under the couch and out of sight. Jack closed his sketch book and slid it underneath the cushion of the chair he'd previously occupied before rising up and moving to his two little brothers. He slipped the broken pencil into his pocket and grabbed Crutchie's book from him, shoving it into a drawer of the coffee table almost silently. Neither boy on that couch flinched, as if they'd done this one hundred times. Then Jack sat on the left arm of the couch waiting for what was to come. But what he wasn't expecting, what none of them were expecting, was for two pairs of footsteps to enter the room.

"Beer?" One voice asked. The old man from earlier.

"What do ya think?" The other answered. His voice was not as rough as the first. It had a higher pitch to it and held a certain level of sarcasm. Jack sighed.

"Weasel." He muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes and tried his best to keep himself calm. If not for his own sake, for the sake of his brothers.

"Well what do we have here?" The second man, Weasel, asked when his eyes landed on the three boys on the couch. He rounded to the front of them and laughed at the way they were huddled on the couch together.

"Oh that reminds me." The old man's gruff voice spoke and Jack saw Crutchie grab Race's hand that had been running through his hair. Jack stood carefully, silently and then sat down on the couch, in front of Crutchie's torso. The foster father came back into the room and set down two beer bottles on the coffee table and turned to the boys. "This one," He pointed to Race. "Was talking back to me this morning." He said.

Weasel glared at the poor boy who didn't look up to meet their eyes. "Well, looks like these boys need to be taught a lesson." The man looked around for a moment, before whispering to the other. "Ya want me ta fill up the tub?"

Jack scooted closer to Race and put an arm out in front of him. He knew what was about to happen and he couldn't quite contain his panic. But the foster father smirked and nodded, letting Weasel walk to the bathroom, where water was turned on and had begun to run.

Race's eyes widened. He looked up and his eyes locked with Jack's. He saw no less fear in the other boy's eyes than he felt surging through his thin body. "No." Jack's voice was breathless and terrified. "Please no. Take me instead. Do whatever ya want but leave him alone." Jack looked up at the man, ignoring his little brother's small pleas to stop it. Jack saw the man's smirk turn into a laugh and he felt a fire burn inside him.

"You are somethin', Kelly." He laughed. "But your brother is the one that needs to learn to keep his stupid mouth shut." He explained before stepping closer to the three of them and making a grab for Race. But Jack stood up fast and challenged the man, their faces inches apart. The man's anger grew by the second. "You really want some of this, boy?" He spat, glancing over for only a second as his friend returned to the room.

Jack was so angry he could've been sick. "I don't care what ya do ta me, Spider." Jack shot back, bitting the last word like it was a poison. "But if you hurt my brothers, I don't care what it takes, I will destroy you." Jack's face was shifted into anger as he spoke to the man he hated so much.

Crutchie and Race sat on the couch in terrified silence. Race held Crutchie so close to him as he watched the scene unfolding in front of them. Crutchie had sat up when Jack got closer to the man and Race had to hold him back by wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and keep him from doing something stupid. All they could do was watch as the man sneered at Jack.

"You think that you'll be able to take them in when you turn eighteen?" The man barked a laugh and shook his head. "The system might consider it. But if their guardian of four years goes in and says that you can't handle that, who do you think they'll listen to, huh?" He roughly hit Jack's chest with both his hands, forcing the boy to take a step back.

Jack's face quickly turned from one of intense anger to one of a scared, shocked boy who didn't quite know what to do. His eyes widened and he forced himself not to glance back at the two boys that were his reason to live. "You wouldn't." It wasn't a statement. It was more of a plea. His voice shook a little and he felt his hatred for this man grow as he laughed at Jack's floundering.

"If there's one thing you should know by now, Jack," The man clipped off the name like it was nothing. "It's that if you cross me, I will take everything you care about, everything you love, and crush it." He smirked again as Jack didn't have a comeback. Then he nodded to the boys on the couch. "Now move." He ordered, gruffly.

Jack's face returned to its defiance and he pushed the man back, the same way the man had before. "No." He breathed, dangerously.

"Jack-"

Jack put up his hand, signaling Race to stop. He hated the way the boy sounded so damn scared. Scared that this man would actually ruin their future and sabotage their family. "You can say anythin' ya want ta any judge in the world but it doesn't matter how hard I have ta fight, how far I have ta run I will get my brothers. Ya can't keep 'em from me, Snyder. I will always find them." Jack spat at him, furious. "No matter what you do, you will lose. And I will always be the one standing here, between you and my brothers." Jack's voice was, unexpected to him, confident.

Snyder's smirk faded and he became angry. "You made a mistake, Kelly." And then hell broke loose. The old man grabbed Jack by the collar and threw him to the ground making a lunge for the two boys on the couch. He wasn't expecting the boy to jump on his back and wrap an arm around his throat. He clawed at the kid's upper arm but found he was having trouble breathing.

Jack had him. He could've knocked him out and then he could've gotten his brothers out and away from this awful place. Away from everything. But he forgot. Forgot about the other man. Weasel. Jack heard Crutchie scream and looked up before he felt a hand on the back of his neck. He felt it squeeze and he suddenly felt his strength giving way. He was pulled from the man and thrown to the ground, luckily landing on his feet before he saw the Spider in front of him and had no time to react before the man's fist made contact with his left eye.

Crutchie jumped when he heard Jack scream and it took Race holding him back for him to stay put. He watched as two men hovered over his brother, kicking him in the gut and in the head. He had to listen to his brother cry out in pain while his other brother held him still. Crutchie knew Race was trying to control the fact that he was shaking, holding back tears of anger and pure fear.

Once they were done with Jack, they advanced on the two younger kids. Snyder stepped to them first but Race quickly sat in front of his baby brother, shielding him for all of a second before Snyder socked him on the same cheek he had this morning, causing the already forming bruise to shoot pain through the boy's head. He fell to the ground holding the painful spot on his face before Snyder kicked him in the chest.

Weasel took over for Snyder, grabbing Race by his upper, left arm, and forcing him to his feet, ignoring Jack's cries, Jack's pleas for them to stop.

Snyder watched as Race was dragged to the bathroom, screaming for help. He wasn't able to bring his legs underneath him all the way, causing him to literally be dragged. The boy fought hard but was thrown into the small room and his two brothers could only hear his screams.

Snyder stood over the youngest boy. He sneered at the kid who was cowering away from him. He grabbed the boy's right leg and the small kid screamed as he twisted his already bum leg. He was dragged off the couch and he screamed. He begged for help. He called out for his brothers but no one came running. He felt kicks to his stomach, his chest, his head, his arms and his leg was being thrown every which way. All he could do was scream. "Jack!" He cried. "Race!"

"Crutchie!" Jack screamed from his pathetic position on the ground, against the wall as he desperately tried to stand, to run to his brother's side, but was unable. He held himself around his burning, aching torso and was forced to listen to the screams. His eyes became heavy and suddenly he was somewhere else. Outside somewhere where there were cop cars and an ambulance. There was a woman, on a stretcher inside , but she wasn't hooked up to machines of any kind and the paramedics were sadly shaking their heads.

Jack heard Race's screams become younger and he looked another way to see a young boy with the brightest, teary, blue eyes and curly blond hair being shoved into a police car. He watched as the car pulled away and his heart ached as the boy turned in the seat and started pounding on the back window, screaming for help. Then Crutchie's screams became sobs and he looked around one more time to see a small boy with a crutch under his arm, being lifted up and dragged away from him. He was calling out for someone to stop this.

This was wrong. Jack knew it. It was wrong. Three little boys. All they had was each other. All they knew was each other. They weren't ready to be thrown into a cruel world, alone and unprotected. But all Jack could hear were screams as his world went black.

Race fought and he fought hard. The poor kid was forced to his knees in the middle of the bathroom the man's arms were around him, making it nearly impossible to stand up. He screamed for someone to help him but Weasel grabbed his hands and some duck tape from under the bathroom sink and, once his hands were behind his back, Race was powerless to stop it. He hated to admit that, as strong as he was and as hard as he fought, these guys were stronger than him. As he cried for help, Weasel put a hand over his mouth and laughed as he tried to struggle out of the grip.

Race's first instinct was to bite the man. But he knew in the long run, it would only make things worse. So he settled for trying to struggle his hands out of the tape. Sadly, he knew he was stuck when Snyder walked in and all he heard from the other room was silence. His innocent blue eyes looked up at his hated guardian and the man laughed when he saw that Racetrack was past terrified.

Race tried to hide it but found even he couldn't convince himself that he wasn't petrified in the moment when his brothers were silent and he was stuck in a room with two mad men, a tub full of water and no way to get out.

He struggled hard when Snyder forced him to face the tub. Weasel's hand was no longer over his face, so he screamed. For anyone. He just wanted anyone to come running. But Snyder quickly quieted him by shoving his head into the ice cold water.

Crutchie heard the muffled screams. It lasted for about a minute before he heard the coughs and gasps of air for a few seconds. Then it started all over again. He heard Snyder laughing and Weasel egging him on. He felt the bile rising in his throat as these men took pleasure from this torture. He tried to cry out for his brother. Either of them, but found himself too weak. His bones ached from being sick and being beaten, so Crutchie finally gave up and let the darkness take him, hoping he'd wake up to the arms of the only two people he cared about.

Race was sure he would drown. He was sure he'd never see his brothers again. He'd never get to turn eighteen, or leave the system or be with Jack and Crutchie and be happy. His life was gonna end right there. He stopped screaming when he started seeing black spots. He almost let it happen, if not for the pull on his neck that allowed him oxygen.

He sputtered, coughing like crazy, hunched over on himself, desperately trying to shield himself from being pushed under again. Race hated water. And there was a reason for it. But, once more, they grabbed him by the back of his shirt. He gasped and cried as they picked him up off the ground and threw his whole body into the freezing liquid. It was so cold, Race could hardly move. They held him down as he fought for the surface, even under water crying out for Jack. It was when Race's vision was almost completely black that they decided to pull him back up.

They let him collapse on the ground, gasping for needed air. They let him enjoy his ten seconds of glory before Snyder ripped off a strip of duck tape, smoothing it over the boy's mouth, causing him to go into a state of panic. Race kicked at the men but they caught him and dragged him by his ankles through the house. Down the short hallway was a closet. It wasn't a big one, but it did lock from the outside.

Race hadn't noticed that there were tears streaming down his face due to all the water that was there. But he saw his foster father open the door to the closet at the end of the hall. It had a few coats in it but other than that it was pretty empty. He shook his head, pleading with the men through the gag to not do this. To just leave them alone but they just laughed and threw him inside, locking the door before they walked away leaving a screaming, terrified boy behind.

Crutchie woke up to darkness. He blinked a few times in a panic, thinking for a moment he was blind before he looked down to his left to see a thin line of light trailing in through a crack in the bottom of a door of some kind. He moved around a bit, feeling the ground but he realized his crutch was not in the room with him. He heard rapid breathing that was not his own. The boy tried to move around again and when he moved his leg he lightly kicked another.

"Race..." Crutchie breathed, somewhat in relief. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out Race's heaving form. The older boy's head was leaning up against the door and his legs were bent in front of him. His arms were behind his back and Crutchie realized that the boy must be bound somehow. He saw the tears glistening on his cheeks from panicking and he saw them run over the smooth grey strip over his mouth.

When the younger boy tried to move, he realized how much everything hurt. He groaned and let himself rest for a moment before beginning to crawl towards his brother. The older boy looked at him and shook his head, knowing that he must be hurting, but Crutchie continued anyway and grabbed his brother's bound wrists in his hands. He peeled off the tape and his brother's hands immediately went to the tape over his mouth.

Crutchie slumped against the back wall, breathing hard. Everything hurt. He waited patiently for Race to finish and couldn't be more relieved when Race pulled him into his embrace. Though, Crutchie realized, Race was ice cold and shaking.

"C-Crutchie." Race whispered, relief flooding through him. The younger boy didn't know what else to do but to collapse into his big brother's embrace. He felt Race press a light, brotherly kiss to his forehead and start rocking back and forth before he even realized he'd been crying. He let Race rest his chin in his own mess of hair and they sat there, quietly sniffling and wiping away tears. Waiting for someone to find them.

Jack's whole body screamed in pain when he tried to roll over. His eyes slowly slid open and he looked around, carefully. It was very dark, most likely only an hour or two after he passed out. Snyder and Weasel were no where to be seen. But at the moment, Jack didn't care. Despite the pain that shot through his beaten body, he pushed himself to his feet. "Crutchie?!" He cried looking around, praying for some sort of response. "Racetrack!" He tried. But the apartment remained quiet. Or so he thought before he heard something knocking.

Jack followed the sound. It was a steady beat, coming from the back of the small apartment. He silently walked to back of the short hallway and seethed when he found where it was coming from. Jack sat on his knees in front of the closet door. "Race?" He called, gently.

"Jack!"

Jack heard shuffling from the other side of the door after he heard Crutchie's relieved voice. He heard Race gently speak. "Slow down Crutch. Sit still. Your leg still ain't right." It was incredibly hard to hear but Jack strained his ears to be able to listen to his brothers on the other side.

Jack tried to calm himself down by taking a deep breath. He leaned his head against the locked door that stood between him and his brothers. "Are you guys alright?" The oldest boy sighed. His response was silence.

Race leaned his head up against the door. He hugged his little brother closer to his left side and sighed. Then he asked, nervously. "Are you alright?"

Jack shook his head. He wanted so desperately to say yes. To continue to trick his two baby brothers into thinking he was invincible and would always be around to protect them, but he couldn't. "I-I'm gonna get you guys outta there." He promised, opting to not answer Race's question.

"You've got all night." Race said, wiping away the tears from his little brother's scared face. "The Spider won't be back till tomorrow. Told me when he threw Crutchie in here that he... uh..." Race sniffled. He looked down at his brother's face and sadly finished. "He wanted you to know what it would be like when your eighteen. Said he wouldn't be back till tomorrow."

Jack growled. He never knew that he could hold such hate for someone. Jack could take the abuse. He had. Multiple times. What he couldn't take was the way he was forced to hear his brothers' screams. The way he was forced to watch as they were beaten right in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Just as Jack reached for the door handle, to try anything to open the door, a knock was heard. It was the same knock he'd heard earlier that day. And Jack sighed.

"Stay quiet." He instructed gently. "I'll be right back, I promise. Someone's at the door." He slowly moved from the door, wanting nothing more than to get his brothers out of there. But he had to deal with this first.

The knocking continued. It didn't stop until Jack cracked the door open to see Davey standing there, smile gone. He looked to be very concerned. When his eyes locked with Jack's, his worry seemed to grow. "Jack what the hell happened?!" Jack closed his eyes as the kid's shout, noticing for the first time how much his head hurt. When he closed his eyes, he realized there must be a pretty bad bruise forming around his left eye.

"Nothin'." Jack scoffed and then tried to shut the door. "Thanks for stoppin' by." But Davey put his hand on the door, preventing it from shutting.

"Your foster father screamin' at ya and then hittin' ya isn't nothin', Jack." David pointed out.

Jack looked up at the boy with wide eyes. "I don't know what you're talkin' about." He tried, but he knew it wasn't convincing enough as Davey laughed. It wasn't a humorous laugh, it was more of a laugh that told Jack he didn't believe him.

"Jack I heard him yellin'! I heard you screamin'! And some other kids too!" David sighed as Jack remained silent. He lowered his voice, but still spoke urgently, "I'm callin' the cops." He grabbed his cellphone from out of his pocket and started dialing in a number. But he was not prepared for Jack's response to that.

The door slammed shut and the chain was removed and before David could even register that the door had reopened, the phone had been snatched from his hand. "Hey! Jack!" Jack hung up the phone and held it out of his friend's reach.

"You ain't callin' no one!" Jack yelled. "I told ya ta mind your own business." David heard Jack, but he let his eyes wander to behind the boy. Jack stood in the center of the wide open door but Davey could still see around him. The apartment looked to be a decent size. But things were thrown everywhere and there were new red stains on the carpet.

Without any invitation, Davey pushed past Jack and into the apartment. "Jack, who are you protecting?!" He yelled as he got a look inside. Things were broken and the place was just a full on mess. But the thing that caught his attention the most was a crutch, disregarded on the ground next to the couch. He crouched down and picked it up, only to have it snatched from his hand by the other boy.

"What the hell do ya think your doin'?" Jack asked, angry at the boy for completely ignoring him. "This ain't none of your business!"

"If you don't tell me what's going on right now, I will call the cops." David challenged. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to help. This boy was clearly in some kind of trouble. "Who are you protecting?" The boy asked from his position on the ground. Jack stood in front of him shaking his head, angrily.

"Ya wouldn't understand." He explained, his voice losing its natural confident touch. He looked down at the crutch and wiped at the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

David sighed in sympathy. He stood and placed his hand on Jack's shoulder, gently. "Try me."

Jack looked up into the boy's light brown eyes. Trust was never something that had come easy to him. He couldn't afford to just throw it around like it was nothing. But there was something about this boy. He seemed to be so understanding and Jack found himself asking, "Can you pick a lock?"

Chapter Text

Jack paced the small width of the hall. His right hand was up to his mouth and his left arm was held in front of the his stomach. He watched anxiously as his new friend sat on his knees in front of the closet door. He held two pins, one in each hand as he picked at the lock. On the ground next to him, his smartphone was open to an instructions page.

"What's behind this door that's so damn important Jack?" Davey asked as he worked at the knob.

"Please just unlock it, Davey. Please." Jack got out, rushed. "You said you was home alone right?" He asked, not wanting someone else to call anyone.

"Yeah Jack." David reassured. "My parents took my kid brother to our grandma's house. They won't be back till tomorrow night." He continued to jiggle the lock. "Would you please tell me what's going on now?"

Jack watched as the boy's hands dropped down and he set aside the pins. "You did it?" He only saw Davey start to nod before he pushed the boy aside, not too hard, but hard enough to make the boy cry out in surprise. Jack threw the door open.

"Jack!"

Jack scooped up his youngest brother off the ground and held him close, making sure he held most of his weight as the small boy had only one leg to balance on. He had one arm around the boy's lower back and his other hand held the back of the boy's neck. They stayed there for a moment before he moved Crutchie to the wall so he had something to lean on and he grabbed the other boy's hand.

Race had trouble standing and fell into his big brother's embrace. He realized how much he actually hurt and how much his near drowning experience had affected him. He heard Jack's shaky breaths in his ear and held onto him tight, his teeth chattering in Jack's ears. "'M sorry... I'm so sorry Race..."

Race buried his head in Jack's shoulder as he shivered. Jack helped Crutchie back to them and the three brothers just stood there. Jack whispered his apologies and his brothers sobbed against him. But the oldest forgot about the other boy in the room.

"Jack..." He breathed, astonished. Immediately, Race pulled back, surprised at the new voice in the room. He looked at the other boy on the ground, up and down.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice higher than normal and jumping at odd moments. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know it was ok. The older boy let Crutchie lean on Race while he offered David a hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Calm down, Race." Jack clasped the taller boy on the shoulder. "This is Davey. He lives next door and he just wanted to help." He explained. "Davey, this is Racetrack and Crutchie." He gestured to each boy, respectively. David nodded and looked at the two boys and smiled, though the tears streaming down both of their faces were enough to break his heart. He watched as one of them, Racetrack Jack called him, wiped at his eyes, clearing the tears from his face before he shivered and Crutchie wrapped an arm around his back.

"Race?" Jack asked, concerned, moving back to his brother's side.

"He's freezing cold, Jack." Crutchie barely caught his older brother as he started falling to the ground, but he just ended up bringing them both to their knees. Jack was down on the ground in seconds. "They must've used ice cold water again."

"'M fine..." Race mumbled, but he sneezed and started shaking. Jack wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm him up.

"You and I have different definitions of 'fine', Race." Crutchie teased. He looked around and saw his crutch on the other side of the hall, immediately crawling for it before the other boy, Davey, handed it to him. "Thanks Davey." The young boy nodded gratefully and pushed himself to his feet, gently pushing his crutch under his arm, hoping Jack didn't see him wincing.

"Crutch, where does it hurt?" Jack asked, watching his youngest brother carefully. The blond boy sighed and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, Jack. We need ta warm up Race." Crutchie stated, his natural confidence shining through, something he no doubt got from Jack. But, as he tried to walk away, his good leg shook and he would've fallen on the floor, face first, if it wasn't for Davey catching him around the waist.

"Crutchie!" Race called out from his place, tucked into Jack's chest. The youngest boy groaned as Davey helped him to the ground.

"Crutch, where does it hurt the most?" Jack asked again, watching as the kid avoided his gazes.

Crutchie shook his head and let out a breath before looking up at his big brother. "My leg. And my head." He answered finally. Jack nodded before asking Davey to take the fourteen year old to the couch.

Davey helped the gimp boy over to the couch and let him sit before walking back over to Jack. He watched as Race closed his eyes and how his teeth chattered and how he leaned himself into Jack's embrace for warmth. These kids were miserable. "How can you tell me not to call the police? You guys are clearly hurt!"

Jack shook his head but he was too late. Race sat up in a panic. "Cops?" He asked, terrified.

"No Race. We ain't callin' the cops." Jack soothed, letting his brother relax back into him. Then he looked up to Davey and shook his head, telling him without words to not bring that up again. Jack scooped up his kid brother in his arms, one arm under his knees and the other beneath his back. Race didn't even seem to notice.

They laid Race down on the couch, resting his head on Crutchie's lap. Jack grabbed the blanket from their bedroom and gently smoothed it over Race's body. Crutchie sat there running a hand through the freezing boy's hair, wincing every now and again. Jack grabbed some ice for Crutchie's head, which apparently had been hit hard. Davey went to his apartment and brought both boys back some hot chocolate to sip on. After a few minutes of just sitting together, Jack got up to grab Race a sweatshirt and Davey followed him into the back bedroom.

"Alright Jack," David shut the door and crossed his arms, leaning against it so Jack had to talk to him. "What's going on. Why no cops?"

Jack grabbed one of his sweatshirts and turned to see Davey blocking his exit. "I already told ya, ya wouldn't understand." He said, flatly, walking towards the door, but Davey didn't move.

"You're right." Davey shrugged. "I don't understand why you would put yourself and those kids in constant danger. Clearly you care about them so why do this ta them? If ya call the cops they'll put you in different homes, better homes!" Davey tried to reason but Jack started to get angry. Not necessarily at Davey, but at things that happened in the past.

"You said ya got a kid brother?" Jack asked, stepped closer to Davey, looking very intimidating all the sudden.

"So?" Davey asked, shrugging, not knowing how that was relevant at all.

"So," Jack mocked. "Imagine that somethin' happened ta your folks. They're gone, not there ta take care of ya anymore." Jack cut Davey off as he tried to interrupt. "It's just you and your brother now. Some people show up and say that it ain't a good idea ta keep you two together so now you've gotta say goodbye." Jack felt himself choking up as he tried to force out these words. It was still painful to think about. "And it don't matter how tight ya hold onta each other. It don't matter that each otha is all you've ever had, they rip you apart and you gotta watch your baby brother be dragged away, screamin' for ya ta help him. But ya can't. So you watch them drive away with him in the back, pounding on the glass window, cryin' for ya."

Davey realized how much Jack spoke with his hands. He realized that Jack spoke with his hands when he was worried or scared about something. When he thought Jack was done, he tried to calm him down. "Jack I had no id-"

Jack put his hand up, silencing Davey. "Then, about two later ya find him. He's on the streets. He can't walk he's hurt so bad. He starvin' and hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. Or ya accidentally run into him while he's runnin' from folks who are tryin' ta beat him and leave him for dead. And you are together again, finally." Jack's voice started to even out as he told this part. "This time, ya fight harder and they let ya be together. But they put ya with a very specific, very powerful guardian and ya know that, one slip up, one wrong move!" Jack yelled, and Davey flinched. "And that's it. He's gone forever."

David cursed at himself, silently, he should've seen it before. "They're your brothers." He sighed, looking down before meeting Jack's eyes.

"Half brothers." Jack clarified. "We're all bastards. Our fathers might be alive but we've never met 'em. So we were raised by our mother." He sighed. "And damn it, I'd do anythin' for 'em." Jack blinked back the tears. "They're all I've got." The sappiness quickly faded and the anger returned. "You call the cops and this is all over. I lost 'em once and it ain't happenin' again." Jack vowed.

Davey stood in shock. He let Jack push past him and go out to the two boys on the couch.

Jack walked up to his brother to find Race falling asleep to Crutchie's soothing voice. He was reading out of his book, very slowly. He also saw that his youngest brother's eyes were struggling to stay open. His voice was becoming heavy and Jack slid the book from his hands and gently set it on the table.

Davey watched from his position, leaning against the doorframe, as Jack smiled at his brothers. Crutchie let out a tired mumble as Jack took his book from him. He saw how Jack carefully lifted up Race and slipped him into a sweatshirt then set him back down. He watched how Jack tucked the blanket around both boys and how he kissed the bruise on Crutchie's head, the boy responding with an exhausted smile.

When Jack was done settling his brothers, he walked back over to Davey. "Thank you." He whispered, smiling as he looked back over to his brothers.

"Of course, Jackie." Davey nodded, patting Jack's arm.

Jack cleared his throat, awkwardly and straightened up before speaking again. "Look, uh..." He took a breath. "Why don't you, uh... stay here tonight." The boy suggested, with a shrug.

Davey nodded. "It's better than bein' home alone." He shrugged.

Jack nodded. "Thanks." The boy sighed again. "I don't know what I would've done without your help." Jack looked back at the couch and sighed before walking to the kitchen and pulling something out from underneath the single chair cushion.

"What's that?" Davey asked, taking a seat on the creaky old chair next to the couch. He watched as Jack brought some sort of book with him, the thing he pulled out of the chair, and sat on the ground. He leaned up against the couch, below Race's feet and opened it up, taking the broken pencil out of his pocket. He placed the book comfortably on his legs that were pulled up, almost to his chest. He opened up deep into the pages and then spoke.

"This is a sketchbook." Jack explained with a smile, his pencil running over the paper bringing him genuine pleasure. "Before my thirteenth birthday, I told Crutchie that I liked ta draw." He laughed at the memory. "He told Race and they saved up some money so they could get me this." Davey smiled when he saw the happiness on Jack's face when he talked about it. "They were so excited about it." He laughed.

"I know what you mean." Davey smiled. He scooted forward on the chair. "My little brother, Les," He clarified. "Made me one of those little coupon books." He laughed. "Ya know the ones that say, free hug coupon or the one day without talking back coupon." David smiled. "It took him a week ta make it. He gave it ta me on my sixteenth birthday. He was only nine. He was so excited for me ta use them." Jack laughed and continued to sketch. Then Davey had another question. "What about that pencil? Was that a gift too?" He asked, curious as to why he was using a small broken pencil and not one that was in good shape.

Jack looked down at the pencil in his hand and sighed. "When I was, uh... fourteen, our foster dad saw me drawing something on a napkin. Nothin' much, just ya know... a bunch of trees." Jack shrugged, recalling the picture of a place he dreamed of each night. "So he snatched the pencil outta my hand and snapped it in half. He said that even if I worked forever, I would never be half as good as any real artist." Jack scoffed, that awful day forever engraved in his head. "So I ran out, takin' Race and Crutchie with me. We ran ta one of our mother's old, old friends. And she told me that if I ever put down the pencil, ta forget about ever achieving somethin' in life. It would be my first step ta endin' up a quitter."

David watched Jack look back at his two sleeping brothers' peaceful faces. "She said that if I held onto the pencil, one day I'd prove him wrong. One day I could take the pencil and say 'thanks for being the asshole who motivated me never ta quit' right in his stupid, arrogant face." Jack finished. "So I never lost the pencil." He smiled.

Davey smiled. Then he reached out his hand, "May I?" He asked politely. Jack looked down at the page he'd been using, hesitant, but eventually he shrugged and handed his treasured book over to the other boy.

Davey took it, gratefully and looked it over, gasping, in awe, at what he saw. It was a beautiful picture, all in black and white. There were two boys in it, naturally. They stood tall, smiling and laughing. Like it should be. The taller one with the short, curly hair, on the left from Davey's perspective, definitely Race, had his arms around the younger boy. His right hand was on the smaller boy's right shoulder and his left arm was wrapped around the kid's shoulders. His features were lit up and Davey found himself smiling at the boy's happiness. Race's gaze was soft and warm and loving and his head was turned to look at the younger kid who was leaning on a crutch.

Crutchie was leaning to his right, onto his crutch that stood in between him and his brother. More than that, he leaned into his brother. His natural smile warmed Davey's heart. His features were soft and he looked forward yet down at the ground. His hair was covered by a beanie that warmed the boy's head.

Both boys were dressed warm. Race wore a leather jacket over a sweatshirt that was zipped up to cover some sort of t-shirt. The hood of the sweatshirt stuck out, over the jacket. Crutchie was snug in a warm looking peak coat that cut off at his hips. His neck was covered by a scarf. Both of them were cut off at the knees at the bottom of the picture.

They looked so happy. It was refreshing. Davey knew he'd only literally just met them, but he could take a guess that the boys didn't get to behave like that very often. And he could guess that they didn't have warm clothes like that for the upcoming storms of Manhattan.

They looked to be walking down the middle of the street. They were surrounded by buildings and people. Everyone else in the picture had their backs turned to them, walking away or entering a shop or workplace, except for one. A woman. She looked oddly familiar. It took Davey a while to figure out why. But he looked back and forth between her and the two boys in the picture and then at Jack.

She was all clad up in a lovely dress and cloak. The dress stopped just above her knees, showing off her legs almost as well as the heels she was wearing. The cloak covered her arms and chest and most of her head, but her wavy hair still flowed, falling perfectly around her beautiful features. Her body was turned as if she was about to open up a door and go inside but her face was what Davey focused on the most.

Her smile was the same one that was worn so proudly on Crutchie's face, the one that brought warmth to everyone who saw it. Her loving eyes were the same ones that Race had as he smiled at his brother. And there was this spark about her. A passion as she gazed upon the two boys in the center of the picture. It reminded him so much of Jack.

"She's beautiful." Davey whispered, smiling up at Jack. The other boy scoffed.

"What are ya talkin' about?" He asked, quietly, trying to play off the fact that there was more to the picture than meets the eye.

"You know damn well, Jack." Davey smiled. "You guys all have a part of her with you." He almost missed the way Jack smiled at that. But he caught it. Then he looked over the drawing again, before handing it back to his friend. "They look so happy."

Jack chuckled a bit and ran a hand over the page. "Yeah..." He sighed, happily. "They ain't always like this, ya know." Jack pointed behind him to the couch. "Crutchie is the most optimistic person I've ever met and Race," Jack smiled, "Race can make a joke no matter the situation. Always loves ta make everyone laugh."

Davey smiled at his new friend. He looked up on the couch to see the two younger brothers. "Tell me about them." Davey suggested and Jack hesitated for only a second before launching himself into stories about his world. His brothers.

Eventually, the two boys passed out of exhaustion. But they slept, oblivious to the nightmare that was coming.

Chapter Text

Jack opened his eyes slowly and looked around. He groaned quietly when he saw the mess that was around him. A mess that couldn't be seen by the man that had caused them so much pain. There were mugs on the coffee table that had previously been filled with hot chocolate. There were blankets all over from where he'd slept, where Davey was sleeping on the chair and where they were spread over his two brothers. His sketch book lay on the floor, open to the same page from the previous night and Crutchie's book still lay on the table.

Jack sighed and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the soreness of his body as he started to clean up what he could without waking anyone up. He washed the cups, hid away his sketches and did everything he could do before he looked up at the old, run down microwave clock. His heart stopped for a moment as he stared at the time and then back at his family. 7:53.

Jack ran back out into the living room, sitting gently on the edge of the couch, careful not to startle anyone, before he started to slowly shake Racetrack out of his dreams and into reality. The poor kid's skin was still cold to the touch and the temperature of the apartment wasn't doing them any favors. "Race..." Jack whispered, harshly, trying to get the kid to wake up. "Race!" He tried again and was immediately filled with guilt when the boy's icy blue eyes slowly slid opened and met his.

The kid's eyes were tired and confused. When they opened all the way and took a look around, Race shivered and pulled the blanket closer around his body. "It's cold..." He mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Jack shook his head as he watched his brother's eyes slip closed again. "Race, it's almost eight!" The older boy whispered, urgently. That seemed to get a response out of the younger boy. Maybe not a good one, but a response none the less.

Race's eyes shot back open. He sat up in a hurry but the pain from the previous night shot through his body. He felt Jack's arms around him as an ice cold chill was sent through his body. The older boy held his arms around Race's shoulders. The boy shivered and leaned into his big brother's touch. "It's so cold, Jack." He whispered into his brother's ear. He rested his head in the crook of Jack's neck as he held him.

"I know, kid." Jack sighed, sadly as he rubbed his hands up and down the kid's back, trying to warm him up a bit. "I know." He repeated, the memories of the previous night filling up in his mind, the guilt of what happened filling up in him right along with it. "But we're gonna get you somewhere warm." He promised.

Crutchie gasped as the weight lifted from his lap. His green eyes opened in a rush as he frantically looked around for his family. When he saw them, his panic lessened and he sat up and scooted closer to his brothers, trying to reassure himself that they were all still there. Together.

Jack looked up at his youngest brother. The boy looked a little but frazzled. His hair was a mess and his eyes were a bit wider than they should be. The young blond boy appeared to be scared to say anything, so Jack loosened his grip on his shivering brother and, gently, scooted both of them closer to Crutchie. Immediately, the boy's worry seemed to melt away as Race grabbed his hands and guided them around his torso so that the gimp could rest comfortably against his back.

Jack wished he could stay like that for a while longer. Just holding his poor brothers and making sure their fears were chased away by the trust they had in him, but, sadly, Jack had to let go and stand up. "Fellas, we gotta go." He said in a rush as he moved over to the chair that Davey had been sleeping in. Carefully, he kneeled down next to him, placing a gentle hand on the taller teen's shoulder. "Davey." He whispered, shaking the sleeping kid with as little force necessary. The boy stirred but Jack looked back at the clock. 7:58. "Davey!" Jack finally yelled, successfully getting his friend's eyes to shoot open as he sat up.

"What the hell, Jack?" Davey whispered as he frantically stood to his feet. He looked around at the room and immediately regretted his decision to move so quickly and harshly around the young boys. Race looked really tense as he wrapped his arms around Crutchie and the younger boy's eyes were opened wide, but after a moment, it looked like nothing had ever happened.

Crutchie watched as Race stood to his feet. He hastily made it to their empty bedroom and then was back before he could even say he'd been gone. He gave the boy a curious look and his heart hurt as he sat and watched his brother shiver when he made his way over to the window. Crutchie grabbed his crutch, that had somehow made it over to the side of the couch the night before and, slowly and painfully, limped his way over to his older brother as he slipped through the window and offered him his hand.

"Jack what's going on?" Davey asked, curiously, as he watched the two little boys he'd help rescue the night before slip out into the cold morning of Manhattan. The other boy shook his head as his eyes made it back to the clock.

"I'll explain later." He promised. "Just go! We can't be here right now." He prompted. He all but pushed his new friend over to the window. Talk about making it at the last second. Jack forced Davey through the open window and then stepped out just in time to duck the four of them down as the door inside was heard, opening and then slamming shut. He heard an annoyed grumbling through the window and rolled his eyes. He then looked over his shoulder to his fifteen year old brother. He nodded to him and the younger boy repeated the movement before slipping back onto the latter of the fire escape.

Race grabbed his baby brother's hand and helped him onto his back as he began to make his way down to the ground. He let the younger boy's knees rest just above his hips and he let his arms clutch around his neck, the crutch dangling from his right hand. The fifteen year old ignored his shaking body as he made his way down the latter. His hands were going numb from the freezing touch of the metal and he could see his breath coming out cold. But his hurting brother was on his back. So he didn't stumble until Crutchie was on the ground, leaning up against the wall of the ally they'd landed in.

Jack had let his new friend start climbing down the latter before him. He knew that if the man caught him in there, things would go downhill, fast. But when he saw Crutchie being lowered to the ground, wincing as he finally made it, and Race trying to walk and stumbling over nothing, all he wanted was to be down with them.

Finally, they made it to the ground. Jack was at Race's side in a second. He put his arm around the younger boy's back and guided him, carefully, back over to Crutchie. The oldest of them pressed the back of his hand to his littlest brother's forehead, groaning as the boy's temperature must've gone up since the last time he'd checked.

"What's wrong?" Davey asked from behind them, leaning up against the latter, watching the scene in front of him. His heart clenched as Crutchie started coughing uncontrollably and the boy cried out in pain as his bruised bones screamed for him to

stop.

Race dropped to his knees beside their brother and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Crutchie breathe." He muttered as Jack grabbed the boy's shoulders to hold him still. "Please just breathe." He begged.

"He's been sick for a week now." Jack explained as the coughs started to die down a bit. Still, he scooped the fourteen year old up into his arms and rocked him back and forth a bit as he sniffled, the pain from the previous night ever so present in that moment. "Last night he was getting better. Then the Spider decided ta ruin that too." Jack explained, slowly trying to comfort his baby brother.

Davey carefully pushed himself off of the latter and walked over to the boys. He kneeled down next to Race, who was still playing with the younger boy's hair and placed a hand on the blue eyed kid's shoulder. He tried to ignore the fact that the boy jumped under his touch. "Where do you think you're gonna go?" The tall boy asked, gently.

"A friend of our mother's place." Jack answered, plainly as he stood, lifting up his baby brother in his arms and walking away, followed by a stumbling Racetrack.

Davey stood for a moment, dumbfounded. After a moment he just gave a sort of shrug and followed after them.

It took about a half an hour to walk all the way out there. Jack still held Crutchie up in his arms, despite the boy's protests to being carried the entire way there. Race's hand was on his big brother's arm, some might think it was for comfort, but it was clear in the way the boy swayed on his feet that he needed it for stability. He also carried the boy's crutch in his hand. And Davey's heart hurt for the little boys that no one even noticed as they walked down the street.

They made it all the way to the other side of Manhattan, to a large building. It looked to Davey to be a theatre. They walked in through the front door. So far, the place was basically empty. The foyer was open, and Davey gave Race, who was now walking beside him, a curious look as they just waltzed into the beautiful theatre without a second thought. The young gambler just nodded as he understood why Davey was so confused.

"Medda leaves the theatre open for us..." Race started, trying to figure out the right way to put it. "For all of us. She takes a lot of foster kids under her wing. We're all welcome here." He explained.

Davey nodded, but then a woman seemed to appear out of no where. She had a brilliant smile up on her face as her eyes fell on the boys that had wondered into the place. She wore very nice clothes and expensive looking jewelry that showed off her chocolate skin quite nicely. "Jack Kelly, where have you been?" She asked, strolling right up to the three boys. Her beautiful smile fell, however, when she saw Crutchie, falling asleep in his big brother's arms. "It's been a week, honey." She stated, lightly running a hand through the gimps hair.

Jack nodded, grimly. "Yeah..." He sighed, looking back at Race, making sure he was okay. The younger boy nodded and walked up next to his brother's, on Jack's left, right next to Crutchie's head. The youngest of them lay in his oldest brother's arms, trying to keep himself awake. His eyes would flutter open every few seconds, but the movement was getting fewer and farther between. Then Jack looked back up at the African American woman. "Crutchie's been sick for a week." He said, clutching the kid tighter, and allowing Race to run a hand through the fourteen year olds hair. "He's been too weak ta get over here. But I couldn't let 'em stay in that apartment any longer."

Davey shoved his hands in his pockets, awkwardly. He paced a little behind the three boys as they had their talk with this woman that he assumed was Medda.

"Well some of the other boys are in the house." Medda pointed to door that lead to the center of the building, skeptically looking over the three boys in the foyer. "Racetrack, its much warmer in there." She added, as she noticed the boy's shivering form. The small teen nodded and made his way over to the door, crossing his arms over his chest, the crutch he still held dangling from his hand. But when he got there, he turned, and waited for his brothers to join him.

Medda looked past Jack and Crutchie to the young man that was in her theater. The one she'd never seen before. "Who's your friend?" Medda asked in a hushed tone, wanting to let Crutchie get as much of a rest as he could in his condition.

Jack looked back, confused for a moment, before remembering that the boy had tagged along with them this morning. "Oh, that's Davey." Jack introduced, getting the taller boy's attention. The brunette then walked over to them, extending his hand. "Davey, this is Miss Medda Larkin, the finest actress and director you'll ever meet. She owns this place." Jack explained as the two shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Larkin." Davey spoke, politely.

"Welcome to my theatre." The kind woman smiled and gestured to the door where Racetrack stood, waiting. "Just be careful." She added with a wink in Jack's direction. "Some of Jack's boys can get a little riled up."

Jack groaned. "How many of 'em are here?" He asked, looking down at his youngest brother and then over at his other one. Both of them were cold and miserable, and Jack wasn't sure if they could handle what was waiting on the other side of the door.

"Most of 'em. Maybe all of 'em." Medda replied, patting Jack's shoulder. "They've been worried about ya, baby." She clipped the boy's chin and then walked over to Race, wrapping an arm around him as she opened up the door that lead into the theatre. "Go let them know you're alright."

Jack nodded and looked at Davey before gently jerking his head in the direction of Medda and Race, following them inside. But Jack wasn't prepared for the loud voices that met his ears.

"Jack!"

"Race!"

"Is Crutchie okay?"

"Who's that guy?"

"Where have you guys been?"

Race was only overwhelmed for a second with the questions before another boy, only slightly taller than him, with bright red hair ran up to him and threw his arms around his waist, jokingly picking him up off the ground running him back to the doors that lead into the room. Race grunted at the impact, but then he looked up and saw two other boys behind him. There was another, same age as him, while the red head was at least a year older, with light brown hair and a giant smile on his face. He wore a baseball cap backwards on his head. And then the boy beside him was only about thirteen. He had dark hair and a small smile on his face and his dark eyes sparkled when they met Race's.

The red head set Race back on the ground, or dropped him back on the ground. But none the less, the boy was still smiling. "Where ya been Race?"

"Avoidin' you Albert." Race laughed, his sarcasm rolling off his tongue with such pleasure, most likely because he hadn't been able to joke around like that in a while.

The older boy chuckled and brought Racetrack back to him, ruffling his hair, laughing harder when the fifteen year old tried to struggle out of it and then he shoved him towards the two other boys.

"Hey Race!" The one with the light brown hair greeted, bringing his friend into his arms. "You alright? Ya look a little cold." He asked, concerned, but Race shook it off.

"I'm fine JoJo." He assured, quickly before kneeling down in front of the thirteen year old who was looking so happy to see him. "And how're you doin' Romeo? Still pickin' on all the girls?" He teased, ruffling the small boy's hair.

The boy, Romeo, swatted away the older boy's hand. "All the ladies love me. They just don't always know it." He said, confidently. And Race laughed.

"Sure kid."

Jack walked up to the stage, ignoring the twenty boys in the room that followed him and asked where the hell he'd been, why Crutchie looked so sick and why Race was shivering. He helped Crutchie sit on the edge of the stage. The boy looked a bit dazed, but when he fully opened his eyes, he saw all the boys looking at him, concerned and he smiled.

"Hey fellas." He greeted in a tired voice. A whole bunch of boys swarmed around the kid and some of them put hands on Jack's shoulders.

"Hey boys." Jack finally acknowledged them, bringing some of them into his embrace, spitting in his hand and then shaking some of the boys' hands. "Sorry for scaring you guys." He apologized as he leaned up against the stage where Crutchie sat. "It's just... been a rough week." He sighed, finally, crossing his arms over his chest as the room became quiet. "But we brought a new friend with us." Jack smiled and nodded to the boy who still stood in the back of the room, looking around, amazed at all these little boys.

Foster kids, Race had said. All of them. All of them needing a safe place to go. It was truly heartbreaking.

"Boys, meet Davey. He saved our butts last night." Jack smiled and suddenly Davey had a bunch of boys looking at him.

"Hi fellas." He waved, awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. "Nice to meet ya."

Race and three of the other boys joined back into the group and many of them turned to hug the blond gambler. They asked him if he was ok and if he had been hurt in anyway and he dodged every question with a witty response. That's when Davey saw the real Racetrack shining through. He would laugh things off, joke about them like they were nothing. And Davey could see that it was both his personality and his way of coping with the awful things that had hit him in the past.

Crutchie was up on stage, telling everyone that he was fine and that he would get better as he coughed and sneezed and hugged his thin sweater closer around his shoulders. And Davey saw how Jack looked up at him with scared eyes. The kid's must've never been real good with getting sick. But the poor gimp seemed to be looking ahead to the future, knowing that he'd pull through.

"Hey, Higgins!" Albert called to his friend, as they had gotten separated in the crowd. "You owe me a rematch of poker!" He laughed, slinging an arm around the smaller boy.

"Why?" The gambler scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not like you'll win anyhow."

"Jack, what are you gonna do about your foster father?" Davey asked his friend, as now all the boys had gone to the back of the room, where they'd come in from, to see Race teasing Albert about how he would never win a poker game against him.

"Nothin', Dave." Jack replied, simply, carefully watching as two boys, one with some glasses, and one with a slingshot in his hand, helped Crutchie off the stage and over to the laughing crowd of boys. And Jack let himself smile for the first time that day.

"What do ya mean nothin', Jack?" Davey asked, angrily. "How could you just sit back and let this happen again?"

"Hey! It ain't like that, alright?!" Jack's tone was hushed, as he didn't want to alarm the other boys in the room to what their conversation was about. "You think I don't want to get my brother's outta that damn apartment?!" He asked, actually hurt that Davey thinks he hadn't done everything he possibly could to protect his family. "Cops will only make it worse! Trust me! If we just stay outta his way it'll be fine! We've been doin' this for years."

Davey was about to argue once more when the commotion in the back of the room suddenly turned from playful, to shocked, hurt and angry. Jack didn't waist a second before stomping up to the crowd. But as he was only half way away he heard his kid brother begging. Something not often heard outside of their abusive home.

It began with a simple, playful argument. Albert shoved Race and Race shoved back. Then their fists were flying at each other, intentionally missing each other, but then Albert pushed him. It wasn't hard, but Race was pushed to the ground, on his back, and something that no one was meant to see slipped out of his pocket.

JoJo leaned down to help Race up, but the poor kid was too busy trying to reach whatever Albert picked up in his hand to actually get off the ground. When the older, red headed boy saw what he was holding, Race couldn't stop himself.

"Don't tell Jack!" Then Race caught sight of his little brother, who limped over to Albert to see what he was holding. "Crutchie no!" He tried to get up and stop the younger boy from seeing the thing that Albert was looking over, a hurt and somewhat angry look on his face. But now, instead of JoJo helping him up, the boy was now keeping Race from hiding the small box from his brother. And Race's heart shattered when Crutchie saw what it was he was so desperately trying to keep under wraps. "Crutchie... I didn't-"

"How could you, Race?" Crutchie didn't get mad very often. But when he did, man, it wasn't good. His voice was low and dangerous. And it scared his older brother.

"Please don't tell, Jack!" Race begged, trying to struggle out of his friend's grip, but in his panicked state, he was no match for the other boy. "Please! I ain't even touched one of 'em! I swear!"

"You were going to, Race!" Crutchie screamed, making his brother wince at the volume of his voice. "How could you?"

"Please don't tell Jack." Race pleaded again, getting desperate and beginning to actually sound scared.

"Don't tell me what?" Jack honestly never thought he'd see the day when his baby brother advanced on Race. The boy glared daggers at their brother before he forcefully pushed himself towards the boy on the ground with his crutch, ready to take a swing at the older kid. But another boy stood in his way.

"Back off, Finch!" Crutchie screamed. Then someone grabbed him from behind and he tried to jerk himself out of the grip as he watched his older brother, silent tears making their way down his face as he sat on the ground, stuck in the hold of one of their friends. "Let go, Elmer!" But he was stuck and he watched Jack walk over, confused as to what was happening.

"What ain't we tellin' me, Race?" Jack asked, nervously, trying to remind himself that no matter what it was, anger wasn't the answer but then Albert tossed a small box his direction. The oldest of all of them caught it easily and looked it over.

"Said he ain't touched it." Albert explained, still angry, but trying to keep the anger at bay.

"Yet." Crutchie mumbled out, still glaring at the frantic boy on the ground.

Jack looked over at his brother on the ground. His lips were pressed together in a firm line as he did and none of the boys thought they'd ever seen Racetrack Higgins so helpless in his life. "Where did you get these?" Jack asked, dangerously. Race didn't respond, but he also didn't make any move to get out of JoJo's hold. And Jack had his answer. "Damn it, Race!"

Race jumped at his big brother's outburst. He saw Davey trying to get Jack to calm down, but the seventeen year old wasn't having it. Race looked down at the ground, the shame of what he'd done catching up with him in that moment. Then he heard Jack bark out orders. And he knew he'd be an idiot if he didn't follow them. "You. Outside. Now." Jack demanded pointing to his brother and Race was up in a second, walking to the door right next to the stairs to the stage. He shoved the door opened and stormed outside.

Davey noticed that Jack was breathing harder than normal. He watched as him and his youngest brother made eye contact. Crutchie's glare briefly turned from furious to absolutely broken, then back again. Then Davey caught sight of what was in Jack's hand.

A pack of cigarettes.

Chapter Text

"Jack... maybe I should go talk ta him-" The red headed boy tried as he watched Jack pace slowly back and forth in front of them. But he was cut off.

"No one yells at my brothers but me, Albert," Jack stated as calmly as he could. He then looked back down at the box in his hand. Without warning, it was thrown to the ground in anger. Jack bit at one of his nails for a moment before taking a deep breath. He looked around at his friends. Most of them sat in silence in the red seats now. Davey was one of the only ones left standing, along with Crutchie who was over to his left.

The young fourteen year old was still furious. Davey was trying to calm him down with a hand on his shoulder. But Crutchie picked up the cigarettes when Jack had thrown them. No one could stop him before he was hastily limping down the isle way to the door his brother had stormed out of. His crutch slammed to the ground with every step he took and Jack was sure he'd never seen his baby brother move faster.

Jack glanced back giving his boys a stern look. "Stay here," he ordered, his arms crossed over his chest before he followed Crutchie out the door.

Davey stood still until the door closed and all three boys were out of the room. He heard yelling, muffled by the walls and he watched every boy in the room get up and move closer to the door. Only Albert, JoJo, and Romeo stayed seated, respecting Jack's orders for them to stay put. "Does this happen often?" He asked, curiously, not exactly knowing what to do and feeling a bit out of place.

JoJo gave a bitter laugh off and adjusted Romeo in his lap so he could turn around and speak to the new boy in their little, makeshift shelter. "You mean Race bein' an idiot?" He scoffed. "Yes. But Jack yellin' at him for it is neva' this bad," he explained, listening to the shouts that were still happening from the other room.

"I ain't eva' seen Crutchie so mad," Romeo added, recalling how the older boy had become red in the face with anger when he found out what Race had been hiding.

"He had every right ta be that mad," Albert concluded, looking back at Davey and then at his friends. "Race's been clean for six months. If they catch him smokin' again he'll be in big trouble," he told his two friends. Then he looked back at Davey. "They don't always get along, but Jack is just tryin' ta make sure the system has no reason ta move Race or Crutchie away from him," the red head explained. "He loves them more than anythin' in the world," he sighed, listening to the argument outside calm down a little bit.

Davey nodded at that. "I can tell."

Crutchie busted through the door, almost sobering at the scene he found in the hall just out side of the center of the theatre. His brother was sitting up against the wall, opposite of the door. His back was pressed to the wall and his knees were pulled up to his chest. His arms encircled his knees and Race's chin rested on his arms. The fifteen year old's red rimmed eyes looked up when his little brother entered the room. It was a heartbreaking scene. And Crutchie's anger almost melted away. But then his fingers curled around the box in his hand. He barely even noticed his oldest brother walk into the hall behind him.

"What the hell, Race?!" Crutchie yelled, after knowing the door had been closed. "Do you remember what almost happened when Wiesel caught you with this the first time?!" Race sniffled, more tears making their way down his face, but he didn't speak as he looked away from the angry face of his baby brother and the disappointed glare of his older one. "Race you almost got thrown in Juvie!" Crutchie cried.

Race wiped his nose on his sleeve as he sniffled again. He couldn't look at his brothers. So he chose to look further down the hall as he held himself, trying his best to protect himself from being hurt. "I didn't use 'em-" He was barely able to finish that sentence as Crutchie cut him off again.

"You were going to, Race!" He screamed, making his brother wince at the volume of his voice. "You had every intention of usin' 'em, admit it!" The gimp no demanded, getting dangerously close to his older brother in his rage. Jack held the small boy by the shoulders, trying his best to hold him back from hurting Race.

"What's the difference?!" Race finally yelled back, glaring up at Crutchie. "Huh?!" He asked again when his little brother didn't answer. "Snyder's gonna kill me anyways!" He screamed at them, angry tears falling freely from his eyes. He didn't move from his spot and he was glad he didn't when Jack was the one that advanced on him. If he'd been standing up, the fight they were having wouldn't have been only a vocal one.

"What the hell is that supposed ta mean?" Jack asked, advancing on the boy. "You plannin' on lettin' him?! You plannin' on followin' our mother?!" Jack screamed, snatching the box from Crutchie's hands. "This is what got her hooked, Race!" He yelled, shaking the cigarettes in Race's face. "Do ya want ta be taken away?!" Jack asked. "Do ya want that, Race?!" He repeated when his brother didn't answer.

Race broke at the question. His face crumbled into quiet sobs as he let his head fall onto his arms. Jack squatted down in front of him, not laying a hand on him, trying not to frighten him any further. "Who did ya get these from, Race?" Jack asked, not as loud but still demanding. Race didn't respond, so Crutchie stepped forward again.

"Answer the question, Race." He ordered, glaring down at his older brother.

Race took a shaky breath and laughed, bitterly. He stuttered for the right words. He wished for something to say that would just make this go away. He hated it when he and his brothers fought. But he came up with no excuse. "I lifted 'em from Weasel's pocket a few days ago." He finally muttered. Closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, waiting for the inevitable shouting that would soon follow his confession.

Crutchie brought his hand up to his face, covering his eyes and sighing as the gravity of the situation hit them all. Jack scowled at his brother. He took in a breath, as if he was about to speak, but stopped himself and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. The he opened his eyes and looked back down at his brother that wouldn't meet his eyes. "Do you have any idea what you could've done, Race?" Jack growled. The boy scratched the back of his head, sniffling, not answering his brother. "Do you know what Weasel will do if he finds out you stole a pack of cigs from him?" He asked. "He won't just move you, Race. He'll take Crutchie away too. You know that! One more slip up and it's over!"

"So fight for Crutchie!" Race screamed, breaking under the scolding from his big brother. "Make sure they don't take him away from you! You'd be happier without me anyways!" He yelled. The brothers were shocking into silence after that. But Race took a deep breath and continued, in a low, quiet voice. "You wouldn't have ta worry about me doin' anythin' stupid no more." He sobbed, letting his head fall onto his arms.

Crutchie didn't even notice the tears that were falling from his own green eyes at the statement. He just looked up at Jack, not knowing what to say. Happier? Without one of their brothers? How could he say that?

Jack watched as his kid brother's thin frame shook with sobs. "Hey..." He whispered, done yelling. Done scaring his already frightened little brother. "Race..." He tried again when the fifteen year old didn't look up at him. He gently touch the boy's arm, pushing the flinch to the back of his mind as he pulled Race's arms away from his face, forcing the kid's face to be visible. "Hey, look at me." He spoke in a normal tone, curling his index finger under his brother's chin, forcing him to look up at him. "How on earth could you say that we would ever be happy without you?" He asked, his face portraying so much hurt at that comment. "Race... you're our brother."

"We just want ya ta stop bein' such an idiot." Crutchie explained in a harsh voice. Race was able to master his natural glare again in that moment and look over at Crutchie. But before Race could make whatever sarcastic remark he had on his tongue slid out of his mouth, Crutchie stopped him. "Why'd ya steal 'em?" He asked, calming down a bit, lowering himself down next to Race's right side. He set his crutch down next to him and waited for the answer.

Race looked down at his hands. He knew his two brothers were staring at him, waiting for an answer, so he finally sighed. "I was sick of feelin' hungry all the time." He stated, not even glancing up. "Same reason I did it before." He explained. "And today... I was so cold, Jack..." He looked up at his older brother and shook his head. "I just wanted ta feel warm..."

Jack sighed. He then sat down next to his brother, bringing the boy into his arms, resting his chin in the kid's blond curls as he rested his head on his chest. "Why do you insist on tryin' ta get through these things yourself, kid?" Asked in a whisper, looking over to his baby brother and seeing the hurt in his eyes. "No more, you hear me?" He asked, sternly. "I catch ya with these killer sticks again, I'll soak ya inta next week. I will not lose you the same way I lost Mom... and I will not lose you to the damn system," Jack got out in a whisper.

Crutchie sniffled. He wanted so baldy to be able to stay mad at his older brother who had been hiding such a thing from him. But he found himself thinking about the past week. "You was givin' up your food for me, weren't ya?" He asked.

Race chose not to answer his baby brother's question. He only, stretched out his arm, welcoming the kid into his embrace. "Please stop gettin' sick, kid," he begged, quietly, earning a small smile from the boy.

"Stop bein' so stupid," Crutchie shot back as he leaned into the hug, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. Race just chuckled.

"Ya got me, kid."

And Jack smiled down at his brothers. His family he never wanted to let go of, before a thought hit him. What if he couldn't have custody? What if when he could finally fight for them, he lost? His smile fell as he realized there was only one thing he could do. He would win. He had to.

When Jack opened the door to the room, he rolled his eyes as all their friends immediately jumped away from the wall, throwing their hands over their faces, starting up fake conversations or just flat out walking away. "Thanks for the privacy, fellas," Jack spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. When Race walked in, Crutchie holding onto his arm with his free hand, the entire room went silent. Everyone stared at him like they were waiting for something to happen. So Jack shook his head. "Move on, boys. Nothin' ta see here."

Davey was amazed when all the boys listened to Jack, like he was their leader or something. He walked up to the boy who had lost his brothers in the crowd. Jack sighed. "Sorry 'bout that, Davey," he apologized. "Sometimes... my brother... he just doesn't know what he's doin'." Jack gave a small laugh.

Davey just shrugged. "He's lucky ta have you then." He stated. Then he pulled out his phone as it was vibrating in his pocket. He read, what Jack assumed, was a text message, before his eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Jack. I gotta get home. The folks are waitin'."

Jack's small smile seemed to fall at the statement. Folks. Jack wished everyday, not for himself, but for his family, that he could say they had folks to go home to. But he nodded. "Let me walk ya home. I dragged ya over here. Least I could do is show ya the way back." He stated.

Davey almost turned him down, but he thought it over and nodded. "Sure." So Jack walked over to his two brothers who were sitting in the midst of their friends. He brought Crutchie, who was sitting on the edge of the stage again, into his arms and pressed a light kiss to his head. Then he walked around the kid to Race who was leaning up against the stage next to the gimp.

"Take care of him." Jack ordered as he brought his gambling brother into his arms.

"Of course, Jack." Race nodded. He knew the drill. But Jack pulled away from him and held him by the shoulders before leaving.

"Hey, I love you, little brother." He said, before pressing a brotherly kiss to his the blond boy's temple.

Race was shocked for a moment before he smiled and said, "Love ya too, Kelly."

Davey and Jack walked down the street, back to their apartment complex. Davey seemed to not be able to stop talking along the way. Not that Jack minded. Honestly, the boy was just confused as to why this kid from next door actually gave a damn.

"So what's with the names?" The taller boy asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, Race, Crutchie, JoJo, Finch?" He listed. "Why not use their real names?"

Jack smiled at the memories of the boys' names. "Racer and Crutchie give out the names," he stated. "They used ta do it ta the men our mother would bring home. We neva' knew their names." Jack watched as Davey nodded, so he continued. "I gave my brothers their nicknames. I've been callin' Chris Crutchie since he was born. He's always had a bum leg, but it wasn't till Crutchie was all we called him, that he actually accepted the fact that he'd neva' be able to walk on that foot," the boy explained. "And Race is a bit of a gambler. Been doin' it eva' since he was five years old. Won his first bet on a horse he was watchin' on TV ta a man ma brought home with her. So I started callin' him Racetrack. Race for short."

Davey nodded. "Then they started callin' all their friends by their nicknames?" He asked, confused.

"Well... Davey, all these boys have had it rough. Most of 'em don't live in homes that treat them so good," Jack told his new friend with a heavy heart. "When they hear someone screamin' their name, they don't like it too much," he explained. They kept walking down the street, passing a local coffee shop on their way, not noticing the man inside that looked up at them as they made their way past the window. "So my brothers gave them all names that describe them, and that make 'em feel safe."

Davey smiled at that and stopped on the corner of the street. "Your brothers sure are somethin'," he said, turning to Jack. The older boy nodded his head and smiled back at him before Davey took a quick look around. Then he saw a man walking out of the coffee shop, looking directly at them. "Ya know that guy?" Davey asked, not taking his eyes off of the man.

Jack was confused. What guy? But then he turned around and his instincts kicked in. "Run for it," he hissed to his friend before grabbing the taller boy's wrist and dragging him down the street. Wordlessly, Davey followed. After they'd turned many corners and ducked behind some trash bins, Jack held Davey back up against the wall of the alleyway they landed in with his left hand on the boy's chest, pushing the both up against a wall. Jack waited for footsteps to be heard running past them before he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ya wanna tell me what that was about?" Davey demanded, straightening himself up as they both caught their breath.

"Snyder." The word was nothing short of a growl as Jack stood up as well, making sure that the man was gone.

"Snyder?" Davey repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. "Head detective of the police department, Snyder?" He asked. "Why are we runnin' from him? Jack he could help ya if ya asked. He's the best cop known ta the city!" Davey tried, but Jack just looked at him like he was annoyed with that being said.

"Trust me, Dave," Jack scoffed. "Snyder ain't gonna help. He ain't the saint everyone thinks he is."

Davey squinted at Jack in confusion. "What are ya talkin' about?"

"What are ya, deaf? He's dirty!" Jack yelled, pointing his hand in the direction the old man had run. "I, of all people, should know," he sighed, thinking about the past few years of his life. His life in that awful home.

Davey stared for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. "He's your foster father," he concluded, pinching the bridge of his nose. Everything made sense now. "That's why you won't go to the cops. That's why your so scared ta do anything." Davey heard Jack scoff, but he spoke the truth. Those three boys were terrified of the police. And now Davey knew why.

"Do yourself a favor, Davey. Stay clear of him. He'll make your life a living hell if you let him." And the two boys continued to walk home, trying to forget that when Jack walked through the front door, nothing good would be waiting for him on the other side.

Chapter Text

Race sat, glaring at his red headed friend from over a hand of cards. He watched as Albert's finger tapped on the edges of the small papers as he examined his hand. Race watched as his friend kept glancing back and forth between him and his cards. He was able to smirk as the older boy groaned and set down his cards. "I fold." And Race laughed, rolling his eyes as the boys around him cheered. He looked down at the space between him and his friend, a disappointed look crossing his face. There was nothing there.

"Not like we was playin' for anythin' important," Race scoffed, rolling his eyes and allowing his cards to fall from his hands. The dark boy with the glasses behind him just lightly hit the back of his head. The sixteen year old boy then held the blond gambler by the shoulders, gently massaging his tense muscles, waiting for Race to, inevitably, melt into his touch. When he did, the older kid sighed.

"Ya know Jack would murder all of us if we let ya play for money," he told the kid. And Race nodded, looking around at his group of friends.

"Trust me, Specs. I know," Race admitted, absolutely defeated, knowing that if they hadn't needed that money so badly a few nights ago, Jack would've made him regret going to that bar so much more than he had already that night. "But I don't know how else to take care of 'em." That was the sentence that made the room go silent. The one that brought the boys back to reality.

Racetrack glanced over to the edge of the stage that they were sitting on. His brother lay on a pillow and some blankets. He was sleeping quietly while the rest of them played cards. Jack had been gone for a while now and Race had been watching his kid brother, as instructed. The look in his eyes was full of so much helplessness as he looked upon his baby brother.

Albert shook his head. He reached over and set a hand on Race's shoulder, cursing himself silently when the boy flinched and looked at him wide eyed for a split second, before he glanced at the hand and his face softened as he traced the arm back to his friend. The red head finally spoke, "Race, you're gonna get yourself caught one of these days," he warned, a worried edge in his voice. "And May won't be able ya bail ya out, this time. Jack neither... Snyder will ship ya off ta Juvie without a second thought and ya know it." The room was deadly silent. Race looked dead at the ground. He blinked back the tears in his eyes, vigorously. "Jack doesn't wanna lose you."

Race glanced back over to his baby brother. The look on his face when he'd found the cigarettes would never leave his mind, but he pushed it aside for now. The boy was getting the first peaceful sleep he'd had in a week. He was getting better. But Race knew Snyder would find a way to ruin it again. He always did. "I know... but I made some money the other day..." Race's voice was small but he looked up at his friends. "It's the only thing that'll get us through-" he tried to argue.

"And it might get ya caught!" Specs shouted from behind him. Race flinched at the yell. He pulled the sleeves of the sweatshirt he wore further over his arms. He heard the boy behind him sigh and squat down just behind his back. "Race, we know how hard you's've got it," he stated, looking around at all the other boys who nodded. "But goin' out ta bars and smokin' ain't gonna stop Snyder from comin' afta' ya."

Race rubbed at his eyes, fiercely. He sniffled and looked over to the door every few seconds, hoping to see one of the only two people he truly trusted in the world come waltzing into the room. But Jack had been gone for a while. And Race didn't know if he was coming back anytime soon.

JoJo carefully sat down next to Albert, across from his friend. "Relax, Race," he calmed with a small smile. "He's comin'. He wouldn't eva' leave you two."

Race looked around at all his friends. They were looking back at him with gentle faces. It was like they thought he'd break at the wrong word. Like he'd shatter if they touched him wrong. And a feeling Race couldn't place surged up at him and he reacted the only way he knew how. He jerked out of Specs's grip and stood to his feet. "What're you all lookin' at?" His voice wasn't nearly as demanding as he wanted it to be. But he stood tall anyways and glared at the other boys before he stormed off in the direction of his brother.

Specs sighed as his friend walked away. He knew what happened in that boy's home. He knew that when his emotions surfaced, he didn't know how to control them. "Just a few more months, kid..."

Race dropped down next to his sleeping brother. His chin fell into his hands as he watched the younger boy sleep peacefully. By the looks of it, it was a rare occurrence. As the boy slept, Race watched as his chest moved up and down, evenly, letting that single movement calm him for a while as he waited for his big brother to return. Every so often, he'd run a gentle hand through Crutchie's hair, playing with the soft substance between his fingers and calming the boy's dreams as he did so. He didn't know what his friends were doing and he didn't care. He just sat and waited for his brother to wake up or for Jack to return.

Crutchie drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. His eyelids were heavy, but as he drifted off once more, he saw too many things he didn't want to. He saw a woman, laying on the floor of the bathroom, her eyes wide open and yet, not seeing anything. He saw the only two people in the world that he cherished more than anything being ripped away from him, maybe for good. He saw Jack bloodied and bruised to the point of not being able to move. Then he saw Race, gasping for breath, soaked to the bone as he did so. Then he felt something that calmed him. He felt fingers tangling themselves in his hair. And he felt himself smile as he came back to reality.

"Ya know it's weird ta watch people when they sleep?" the boy teased, his voice rough with sleep as he drearily opened his eyes to see Race sitting criss-cross next to him. The boy cracked a smile and ruffled his hair as he turned from his side onto his back, looking up at his older brother with a loving grin. But something about it wasn't right. Something about it was just... off.

"Sorry Crutch... I'm just glad you's sleepin'," the older blond sighed, cupping Crutchie's cheek in his hand.

Crutchie leaned into the touch. But, in his exhausted, beaten and sick state, he was unable to keep his next words from slipping out. "Ya know I miss ya, Race?"

The question took Race by surprise. He leaned down to the kid further and grabbed the gimp boy's hand. "What do ya mean?"

Crutchie regretted his words, immediately, as he realized he'd said them out loud. He looked away from his brother's confused, blue eyes. Finally, he realized, Race was not about to forget what he'd just said, so he sighed, "I miss your jokes, Race," he forced out. "I miss it when you'd mutter something stupid behind Snyder's back or when ya would force Jack ta stop bein' so serious all the time and have fun. I miss it when ya didn't go behind our backs and ya used ta talk ya us 'bout everythin'..." Crutchie blinked back his tears as he spoke. "I know we don't have it so good... but I only need one Jack."

Race was taken aback by Crutchie's words. Was it really getting so bad, he was losing himself? "Crutchie, I-"

"I know ya wanna take care of me," Crutchie cut off. He tightened his hold on his brother's hand as he continued to speak. "I know that's why you've been sneakin' off ta bars and givin' up your food. But I just want ya ta stop tryin' ta be Jack, Race," he got out. Race was no longer looking up at him. So Crutchie knew he had to make the other boy smile somehow, and nothing did that better than sarcasm. "Ya don't do it too well anyhow..."

That last little comment is what made Race's face break out into a smile he tried to force down. But he looked up at the younger boy's green eyes and he chuckled. "So that's how it is, huh?" Before Crutchie knew what hit him, he was thrown into a fit of laughter.

Race's hands traveled up and down his little brother's tummy. He laughed right along with the sick boy as he rolled around on the ground, trying to escape his hands that forced him to gasp for air as they tickled him.

Jack sadly pushed the door open to the theatre. He was absolutely petrified to go back to the apartment. Not knowing what was to come killed him inside. But as he entered the house, he smiled as he saw Race and Crutchie. Their friends were scattered around the room, but his brothers were on the stage. His whole face softened as he watched Race tickle their baby brother, relentlessly. The smaller boy was laughing, gasping for air as he swatted at Race's hands. The older boy walked over to them as the tickling slowed.

Race laughed as his brother smiled up at him and he scooped the boy up in his arms, ignoring the pain for a moment. It was a good moment. One they would always remember. So Race cradled his brother to him as they both laughed. His brother laid his head on his shoulder and Race practically melted.

Jack saw his brothers beginning to calm and he smiled. As he stepped up on the stage, he placed a hand on Race's head, gently, crouching down behind the boy who barely flinched at his touch so he could see his littlest brother's smiling face as his innocent green eyes peaked up from the gambler's shoulder. "Hey fellas," he spoke quietly, just above a whisper.

Crutchie smiled his perfect smile back up at his older brother and Jack couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him. He ruffled the youngest boy's hair and watched as he snuggled closer to Race. "Hey Jack," Crutchie replied. "What took you's so long?" The question wasn't supposed to make Jack's face fall. But when it did, Crutchie knew something was wrong. Only one person could give his brother that angry, helpless look in his eyes.

Jack gave a bitter scoff. He shook his head as he glanced around the room. "I'm sorry, fellas," he sighed, his throat tightening as he thought about what these kids had just been through the night before. He didn't think he could do it again. "I thought he'd be at the station or somethin'..."

Race shook his head. This couldn't happen again tonight. Crutchie was coughing up a lung this morning. He couldn't even walk his way across town. No way this was happening again. "What happened, Jackie?" the gambler asked, as gently as he possibly could. He turned his head so he could look up at his brother with eyes that betrayed him. He was terrified.

Jack sighed at his brothers as they both looked up to him with such terrified looks it broke him. He blinked back his own tears as he spoke, "Snyder saw me with Davey," he explained.

Crutchie felt his older brother's hold on him increase. He just clutched Race back as they heard the news. "What are we gonna do?" The boy had frightened tears building up in his green eyes.

Jack shook his head. "I don't know..." If Jack knew anything, it was that what he didn't know scared his brothers more than anything. "But we have ta go back." At this, Race's eyes widened.

"Go back?!" His voice was louder than he'd anticipated, but he continued anyways. "Jack, were you there last night?! He ain't been that mad in weeks!" Race's voice was desperate and terrified while still managing to sound furious as he looked into his big brother's dark green eyes, one of which was still bruised. Jack glanced around and saw that they'd caught their friends' attention, but Race clearly didn't care. "We can't go back! He'll... he'll-"

"No he won't." Jack held Race by the back of the neck in a firm grip. The boy was in his own version of panic. His voice grew louder and angrier. And Jack did all he could to calm him down. "I will not let him hurt you again," he spoke slowly and firmly as he looked back and forth between his brothers. His two best friends. "Neither of you. Ya got it?"

Crutchie nodded at the stern tone. Race, however, was much more reluctant. The youngest of them watched as his two brothers stared at each other. Race's glare held a certain level of anger. His anger was not directed at Jack , but more at their life. The fury that his icy blue eyes held was surrounded with fear and disbelief that they had to go back to that awful, awful place the government wanted them to call home. But Jack's green eyes stared him down. They held the same amount of assurance and protection as always. They forced Race's anger to almost dissolve into helplessness instead.

"I can't do it again, Jack..." The blond boy's voice broke as he spoke. "We can't do it again. I almost drown yesterday!" Race exclaimed, making Crutchie flinch and hold him tighter. "He didn't give a damn! He's makin' Crutchie sick! And he gave ya that black eye and those other bruises you've been hidin' from us too!"

"And if we don't go back I'll lose ya!" Jack screamed. He didn't even notice that some of his friends had taken that as their cue to leave or that the others were watching, sorrowful looks on their faces as he continued. "If we try ta run, they will make sure I can never see either of ya again. Is that what you want?"

Race blinked back his tears. "No!" He sobbed. He let Crutchie shift on his lap so they were both facing Jack and the older boy let go of the youngest, but kept his strong hold on Race's head, forcing the boy to look at him as he thought about the question. "I wanna be with you! And Crutchie! And I want him ta stop beatin' on us!" The tears broke out. And Race couldn't stop them. "I can't do it anymore!"

Jack scooted himself forward so that his and his brother's knees were touching. He pulled his kid brother's head to his shoulder as the kid cried. He grabbed Crutchie's hands as tears built up in his eyes as well, holding both of them in only one of his. "Shushshshsh..." Jack soothed. "I'm sorry, boys... I know it's hard. I know I can't always stop it..." Jack's voice broke at the end of that sentence. He had spent forever wanting to believe that it wasn't true, but it was. "But I can't... I can't lose you. You's is all I have."

Crutchie felt his heart clench as Jack let go of his hold on his emotions. The tears fell freely as his oldest brother held Race, who was now completely sobbing against him. Crutchie sniffled and felt Jack squeeze his hand. And as they sobbed they forgot about everything. They forgot about everything else but the one thing they needed in the world. Each other.

It was dark when they arrived at their foster dad's apartment. They stood outside, hesitant about opening the door. But Jack sighed before bringing his brothers into his arms. Race's head was on his left shoulder, Crutchie's on his right. He gave them both a quick kiss on the head before letting go. "If things get bad," his voice was hushed and angry as he spoke, but he continued anyways. "Get out. Fast."

Race nodded, reluctantly, before Jack turned to the plant that was in the corner by the door. He dug around for a key before slowly unlocking the door and pushing it open, not prepared for what was inside.

"Hello boys." Jack was sure he had died. He froze in his spot and took a quick glance back at his brothers. They were just as confused as he was. Race stood, staring at the man in front of them and Crutchie gave him a short shrug as he leaned onto his crutch. But Jack looked back.

"Well don't just stand there kids," Snyder spoke. "Come in!" The man had a smile on his face. A smile that made Jack a little sick. One that was clearly fake to the three boys in the hallway. His voice was oddly happy and the boys cautiously walked further into the room, tensing as they passed the man that was supposed to take care of them. Jack was in the lead and his brothers were off to his side, away from the evil man as they walked. "Where have you boys been? We've been waiting," their guardian scolded, in a light manner that was rarely heard from him. Then something clicked in Jack's mind. We. We, as in not only Snyder. And Jack relaxed. He knew who was there.

"Hey kids!" Jack rounded the corner to see two men, only one of them did he smile at. His brothers too.

"Hey chief!" Jack couldn't explain the hope he felt surge up in him for that one night. The man he was addressing stood from his place at the small table. He was dressed in a gray suit and a red tie. His brown hair was short on the top of his head and his blue eyes were kind and gentle. As he stood, his badge became visible as well as his gun that was secured to his belt.

The fond smile of the man made the boys feel safe. Jack's grin widened as the man reached to shake his hand. "Jack Kelly, it's been too long!" The man ruffled Jack's hair as they shook hands. Jack laughed and nodded in response before the man took a good look at him. "Good Lord, boy, what happened to your eye?"

Jack's smile fell only a little. He resisted the urge to look back at his hated guardian, knowing he couldn't give anything away. He wasn't willing to risk anything happening. So he lied. Just like always. "Oh, nothin'," he answered cooly. "Just some guy and me had a little bit of a," Jack paused, pretending he was thinking for a moment to find the right word, "disagreement," he finished with a smirk.

The chief laughed and slapped the kid lightly on the shoulder. "Well, then I'm sure as hell glad I'm not seeing the other guy," he chuckled, moving behind the oldest brother just in time to miss Jack's grimace of pain from the soft, encouraging slap.

Crutchie smiled as the kind man approached him, reaching out to shake his hand. "And, young Christopher, how are we feeling today? I've heard you've been a bit under the weather lately," his gentle smile warmed the gimp boy's heart as he shook the man's hand.

"I'm fine chief May, really," Crutchie assured, smiling as the man clipped his chin, making him look up at him.

"I know you are, kid," he laughed. "Nothing keeps you down does it?"

Crutchie's smile widened. "Nothin', sir," he responded, confidently. The man brought the kid into his embrace and ruffled his hair.

"Atta' boy," he approved, patting the boy on the back before moving onto the last of the three brothers.

"Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins..." the man sighed, shaking his head with his hands on his hips. "What kinda trouble have you gotten yourself into, now?" the man asked in a mocking tone. Race smirked as the man stared him down.

"I'd tell ya," Race shrugged, nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, before taking a step towards the man. "But then I'd have ta kill ya." And the man broke out into laughter.

"That's the Higgins I know," he stated, bringing the boy straight into his arms and allowing the kid to relish in the friendly touch of an adult.

Crutchie chuckled at his brother's words. He smiled up at Jack who smiled back down at him. Tonight might actually be okay. They might actually make it through tonight.

"I hope you fellas don't mind that your foster dad invited me over for dinner tonight," the smiling man ruffled Race's hair as he spoke pushing him over towards his brothers. "I thought I'd stop by to see three of my favorite kids."

"We're always happy ta have you, May," Jack said with a smile taking a glance over at Snyder, making sure the man wasn't gonna try anything that night. Oh how he hoped and prayed.

"Well where have you boys been?" Another voice asked. It was Weasel. Jack just hadn't wanted to acknowledge the other man in the room. The one who helped their guardian "teach the lessons". But Jack faked a small smiled as he glanced over at the other man. "We've been worried sick."

Race resisted the urge to scoff, knowing that if he did, the lie they'd been telling for four years would be brought to the surface and that he wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Neither would his brothers. So he just bit down on his lip and let Jack explain, "We was just out with some old friends is all." Chief May nodded and smiled at them.

"I'm glad you kids could go out and have some fun," he stated, placing a hand on Race's shoulder. "Well what are we waiting for?" he asked as he walked back over to the table, holding up a few take out bags. "Let's eat!"

Jack was sure he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. His brothers too. And he couldn't help the smile on his face as they sat around the coffee table, eating and laughing with each other. The adults were sitting in the kitchen at the table and the brothers sat on the ground. They didn't mind though, just as long as nothing bad happened. Once they were done, Jack grabbed their plates and carried them to the kitchen, placing them on the counter to be washed. Then he walked over to the table and carefully took their dishes.

"Oh Mr. Kelly, I'm sure we can manage our own plates," the chief argued as Jack began to take his dish. Jack froze for a moment before glancing up at Snyder who gave him a firm glare. So Jack replaced his smile and shook his head.

"Don't sweat it, chief," he assured as he began to move back to the sink and started to wash the dishes. His brothers joined him after a minute, helping him dry them. It wasn't five minutes before Race and Crutchie were swinging rags at each other, getting each other wet with them.

The chief of police watched the three boys mess around. He smiled at them as they laughed with each other. Then he glanced at the two other men at the table. He sighed before standing to his feet. "Boys, why don't you take a seat," he suggested, gesturing to the couch in the living room. Jack seemed to slow in his movements as he realized the conversation that came next was gonna be serious. He put away the clean dishes and wrapped his arm around Crutchie's shoulders and patted Race on the back, leading his brothers into the living room.

Jack helped Crutchie sit down against Race who sat on the far right of the couch. The youngest leaned up against the gambler. Then, Jack sat beside the gimp boy, putting his arm around him. "What's up, May?" The boys sat quietly and waited, knowing better than to argue and question people while their foster father was in the room.

The chief sat down on the table in front of the boys. The man took a quick glance up at his friends before looking back to the precious kids in front of him. He felt a surge of guilt flow up in him. He knew this was gonna be difficult to explain. He took a breath before speaking. "I know you kids are used to not going many places," he started, looking at the young faces. Oh these poor kids. "And I know you are used to being together all the time, but I've been talking to Mr. Wiesel."

Jack had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tightened his hold on Crutchie but didn't move as the man continued. "We think it's a good idea for you kids to get used to going out into the real world."

Race glanced over to his brothers. He felt Crutchie grab for his hand and he took it, instantly, waiting for the man to just get to the point. "We decided to enroll you guys in school."

Jack felt his brothers tense up. Public school. "High school?" Jack scoffed. He looked around, trying to contain his initial panic. He glanced back at his brothers as he sat on the edge of the couch. "We ain't neva' gone ta public school, chief. Why start now?" he asked, an edge in his voice that no one could quite place.

The chief sighed. "Well, I think it would be good to try and get you ahead on your education, Jack," the man explained. He stood as the boy did. He knew what Jack was masking with his anger right now. It was pure terror.

"You know the only thing I wanna do when I turn eighteen is adopt them!" Jack shouted, pointing back to his two kid brothers who sat on the couch behind him. "I couldn't care less about my education, May, I just want to take them in!"

"I know that, Kelly." The man placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. "And I think the judge you get, whoever it may be, would consider that a whole lot more if you have a high school diploma." His voice was calm as he looked back and forth between the three boys. "I know you want to take them in, but in order to do that you need a decent education, a job and a home."

Jack stood for a moment. He wanted to argue with the man. Wanted to tell him they didn't need this. They didn't need more people breathing down their necks about homework and sleeping and tests and studies. They had enough on their plate already. But Jack pressed his lips together as he realized the man was right. He needed to look like he was responsible enough to take in two kids when he was only gonna be eighteen.

"I'm just trying ta help you, kid. All of us are." Jack almost gagged when May pointed to Wiesel and Snyder. "You've got a guardian to keep you steady for now and a social worker to keep you guys together." The man smiled at the boys. "I've known you guys for four years and all I want to do is to be able to keep you together," he explained. "You deserve that much."

Jack crossed his arms and ignored the glare he got from Snyder. "Thanks chief..." he muttered, not wanting to take a glance back to his brothers, whom he knew were absolutely petrified. "When do we start?"

"Monday."

Chapter Text

"Why the hell is they makin' us do this? It ain't like they's gonna teach us nothin', anyhow!" Jack sighed as his brother complained. He pulled a zip up hoodie up further up on the blond boy's shoulders. He made sure it covered the fading bruises around the kid's neck. Then he grabbed a small bottle of something and poured a little bit of the pale substance into his hand. It was the last of it. He rubbed it on the younger boy's face, right where the bruise was fading on his cheek. His little brother didn't even flinch. It was like they did this everyday.

"Relax, Race," Crutchie sighed from his position, sitting on the edge of the bed, "It'll be betta' than Snyder's version a' school," he commented, making Race roll his eyes as Jack made sure there were no especially bad bruises that could be seen on the boy's body. "At least they's will actually try ta teach us somethin', stead a' gettin' drunk, beatin' us and tellin' everyone we's is homeschooled."

Race glared at the other boy. He adjusted his own sweatshirt as Jack turned back to the single dresser in the room and pulled on his own hoodie, making sure it covered his arms and then grabbing an old baseball cap and throwing it backwards on his head. "How's ya gonna hide that shiner, Jackie?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest, raising his eyebrows as he looked pointedly at Jack's, still bruised, left eye.

Jack scoffed turning to his brothers and slinging an arm around Race, leading him to the bed where their baby brother sat in his green, long sleeve shirt and well kept jeans that did not reveal any horrors of the boy's legs. "It's fadin'. No ones even gonna notice," he assured, noticing how the thought of someone seeing it made both his brothers nervous.

Race sat down at the head of the bed. He glared at his older brother but let silence pass for a minute before answering. "What if someone does notice?" The question scared them all. It was not something they liked to think about.

Crutchie glanced back at his blue eyed brother before slowly laying his head down on the older boy's thigh. He let Race run a hand through his combed hair. He let the gesture calm him and he felt Jack reach out and pull his legs over his lap. The gimp let his oldest brother massage his bad knee. They did it automatically, like it was response to the question. A reaction that kept them all calm.

Jack slowly shook his head. "No ones gonna notice. It's all gonna be okay." The oldest of them looked at his two younger brothers. He could see it in their eyes. They were terrified. Though, neither of them would admit it.

"What if the older kids pick on me?" The question was so quiet. It was like the poor boy was afraid to ask it.

Race's eyes shot down to the younger, innocent green ones that were below him. They locked on each other. "If someone tries ta pick on you, they's gonna have ta go through me first," he stated, confidently.

Crutchie took in the tone of the older boy's voice. There was no humor in it, whatsoever. Race's features were stone cold and he was absolutely furious at the mere idea of that happening. The younger boy didn't comment on it. But the fact that his brother said that made him feel a lot safer.

Jack gave his gambling brother a look before sighing and reaching his hand to Crutchie's cheek. "'Ey, anyone tries ta get ta you, ignore 'em. They don't know what they's talkin' about." The seventeen year old smiled as the blond gimp did. He ruffled the boy's hair and felt better about everything when his brother giggled. Then he looked up at Race. The boy may be putting up a wall, but Jack could see what was behind it. "We's can do this," he assured, locking eyes with Race. "It'll be alright. Ya got it?"

Race didn't move. He glanced down at the ground. He wasn't so sure. One slip up... one more wrong move, and the only two people in the world that he needed could be ripped away from him like it didn't matter. And that thought terrified him. So he didn't respond. Instead, he helped his brother sit up as a knock was heard at the door. And they all took a deep breath before they grabbed their bags off the ground and headed for the outside world that may be the death of them.

Davey sighed. He glanced down at the boy to his right as they waited at the door. The kid had way too big of a smile on his young face for it to be before seven in the morning. He held onto the boy's hand as he was practically bouncing up and down, waiting for the boys in the apartment to open the door. He had on a nice, button down shirt and some new denim jeans, much like his own outfit. They both wore their backpacks over both their shoulders as they waited. Eventually, three boys appeared in the doorway.

They all looked miserable. Jack wore his backpack, slung over one shoulder and hanging off his back like a weight he did not want to be carrying. Race had a sort of satchel. It had a strap that sat on his right shoulder and crossed his chest, connecting to a bag that was sitting at his left hip. And Crutchie had backpack that sat lightly on his shoulders. Davey wanted to take it from the boy with the crutch and simply carry it for him. But he opted against it as the fourteen year old leaned on his crutch with a confident look on his face.

Jack froze as he saw the little boy clutching Davey's hand. The kid had such an innocence about him. It was practically radiating off of him. His smile widened as he saw the brothers and seemed so excited to see some new faces. Jack couldn't help but give the kid a smile. "Who's this?" He kneeled down in front of the boy as he asked the question.

"I'm Les! I'm ten!" he said with certainty. The boys behind Jack laughed at the kid's enthusiasm. Jack did too, but he didn't move away from the boy as he continued to speak. "...almost," he added, shyly. The boy in front of him chuckled and nodded.

"This is my little brother," Davey explained, tightening his hold on the boy's hand. "He really likes meetin' new people."

Jack chuckled. "I can tell." The seventeen year old smiled and introduced himself. "I'm Jack. Jack Kelly." He gestured behind him with his head, not taking his eyes off of the boy. "These are my brothas, Race and Crutchie."

The boys waved at the kid and the boy smiled at them, waving back with so much energy the boys weren't sure he was even human. Jack just laughed and spit in his hand, extending it to the boy. "It's nice ta meet ya Les."

Crutchie watched as Jack spit in his hand. He saw Davey cringe and glance down at his brother who mimicked the action. They shook hands and the tall boy spoke. "That's disgusting," he said, dryly. Crutchie couldn't help but laugh. He just rolled his eyes and watched as Jack stood to his feet.

"It's the price a' doin' business, Dave." Jack looked up to the other boy who shrugged at him. There was no expression on his face. Jack couldn't blame him. The sun hadn't even risen yet.

"What business are ya doin'?" the brunette asked, curiously, his grip on his little brothers hand not loosening a bit.

"Well," Jack started, crossing his arms over his chest. "If he's gonna be one a' my boys, he's gotta do the handshake."

Race smiled as the kid's grin widened. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen such excitement in his whole life. It was refreshing.

Davey rolled his eyes as his brother smiled up at him with pure joy. "I'm one of his boys, David!" he yelled, excitedly.

Davey laughed and shushed him. "Quiet! Ya wanna wake the whole buildin'?" he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face, though. The grin on his baby brother's features was just too contagious.

Jack giggled as the boy's excitement was made evident in the hall. But then he looked back to his brothers and motioned for them to follow him out the door. "Let's get a move on fellas." And then they were off.

The building was huge. There were so many kids all around it. Boys and girls. Most of them had their faces shoved down in a phone or any other type of device that distracted them from the real world. There were couples everywhere. Some were shouting at each other, others making out and even some awkwardly holding hands and pulling each other along into the large doors of the school entrance. There were other kids, laughing at certain people and fights being picked. He could see it all. It all made Jack nervous. More nervous than he'd already been.

Davey sighed as he looked over at his friends. The looks on their faces said it all as they stood just outside the entrance of the giant school. They were petrified. "I won't be that bad..." he tried to assure. Crutchie gave him a quick glance before staring back at the mass of teenagers. Jack shrugged off his fears, hiding it behind the wall his own brothers were still pounding on and Race didn't even bother tearing his gaze from the scene. So the tall boy sighed and looked down to his brother. "Why don't ya go on ahead ta school, Les. I'll see ya later!"

The young boy's smile fell just a bit, enough for Jack to notice. But he let his hand slid from his brother's anyway and quickly ran over to the three new boys he'd just met. "Have a great day!" And then he was off, running in the direction of the middle school, catching up with some other kids headed the same way.

Jack glanced at his brothers. Race had yet to say anything. That alone made Jack all the more worried. But he stepped in front of them anyway and put a hand on both their shoulders. "Hey, you's can do this, okay?" he nodded at both of them. They could. He knew they could. Crutchie gave him the smallest nod and Race only gave him a glare. "Just think," he continued, determined to cheer his brothers up somehow. "Less than a year and we'll be out in Santa Fe... Just like Mamma always wanted..."

Crutchie actually smiled at this. "Ridin' in style..." he chuckled as thought back to those days. Those days that would never leave his mind. Good or bad.

Jack grinned as his brother said this. "Yeah, Crutch. Ridin' in style. Just like she said." He gave his baby brother's shoulder a squeeze and pulled him into a one armed hug.

"Jack... I can't do it..." Race's voice was so quiet. It was like he was embarrassed of the statement he'd made. Jack sighed and let Crutchie go. He didn't even care that Davey stood by, awkwardly watching them. He placed both his hands on Race's shoulders and gave him a small shake.

"You're gonna make it, Race. You'll be okay." And something inside Race felt lighter. His brother's reassurance allowed him to take a deep breath before he gave a small nod as he readjusted his hoodie on his shoulders, ready to walk into the large building.

Jack smiled as his brother's fears seemed to lessen. Then he turned to the tall boy who stood next to Crutchie, draping an arm around Race as he did so. "So where're we goin' Dave?"

Davey smiled and nodded toward the building. "Let's go." So they went.

Crutchie didn't know how these kids had done this everyday for the past ten years. These freshmen kids all sat at desks, listening to people talk for hours on end. Nothing made sense. It all sounded like gibberish to him. The numbers on the board didn't make sense. He just didn't get how it worked. Turning one number into a different one was not relevant to him.

He sat in the middle of the class. His crutch was laying down at his feet, parallel with the desks he occupied. His good leg bounced up and down, anxiously. He didn't know if he could sit there for that long with nothing else to focus his mind on. He couldn't take out his book, he couldn't goof off with his friends and he couldn't see his brothers. So he opted to just pull down on he sleeves of his shirt, nervously, and duck his head down to the book, making it look, to the teacher, like he was actually trying to understand what the numbers meant.

He didn't look up as he heard the whispers. He knew they were about him. He may be a foster kid who'd never been to school in his life, but the boy was not an idiot. He knew people looked at him differently. He knew he was an easy target for a lot of things. And suddenly, he felt very vulnerable. His brothers were not around to protect him. He was on his own.

He tuned out everything. He didn't want to hear the snickers or the pitiful sighs. He didn't need them. He knew they meant nothing. He just closed his eyes and tried to take himself somewhere else. To anywhere but there. And just when it might've started working...

"Mr. Morris?" The boy's head shot up and he looked up at the teacher. She was looking at him like she was expecting an answer to something. The boy took a quick glance around. Everyone was staring at him. All he wanted to do was fold in on himself and turn invisible. But since that wasn't an option.

"Yes, Miss?" he replied, ignoring the giggles he got from other students. That's what Jack said. Ignore them.

The teacher gave him a look. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay with the class from now on. Please pay attention. Now..." and then started the gibberish again. And Crutchie sat back and listened to it, letting it rush right over his head.

Race was about to burst. He wanted out so bad. He was trapped in a room with too many strangers and his brothers may as well be on another planet. He couldn't get to them. And he wanted so badly to get to them. Someone was reading. He didn't care. His eyes may be down in the book on the desk, but he didn't see anything these other kids did. The teacher was walking around, glancing over every kid. Race couldn't help but tense up as his breath hitched when the man walked past him. It was instinct. He couldn't stop it. Lucky for him, the teacher only gave him a curious glance before continuing on.

It was almost over. It had to be. He tapped against his leg. It had to be almost over. And suddenly, Race's instincts kicked up. The boy sitting behind him was staring at him. He knew it. He tried to push it aside, but something about it made him nervous. So he took a small risk. He glanced backwards at him, catching all his features in one glance.

The boy was only a bit shorter than him. He had thick, dark brown hair that was neatly styled on top of his head. His dark eyes shot through Race like a knife as he smirked at him. He was looking at him in a familiar way. A way that said he was excited for some... fresh meat. Oh Lord, it had to be almost over. And then, he felt the waded up piece of paper hit the back of his head. He jumped a bit as it touched him, not liking it when things would touch him without warning at random times. He ignored it. Just like Jack said. Just ignore it.

Race took a deep breath as the harassment continued. The boy was throwing little papers at him, hitting him on the back with his pencil when the teacher looked away and constantly whispering in his ear, "what's wrong, idiot?"

Race had had enough. He swore he was gonna bite the other boy's head off. And then he put the last straw on the camels back. "Get a load a' these kids," the one boy laughed to another student whom Race did not care to look around and see. "Three newbies in one day." Race shook his head. Jack had said to ignore them. Ignore them. Not listen to their every word. But the last words were spoken. And Race couldn't stop himself. "The stupid cripple is the first one goin' down."

Race was out of his seat in a second whirling around to the other boy, his fist in the air, ready to strike. He was seething as he stared daggers down at the smirking kid, but just as he might've let his fist fly, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Crap.

"Was the story too boring for you, Mr. Higgins?" The blond boy did not move. His face was furious and his fist did not fall from the air. Oh how badly he wanted to clock the boy right in the nose. And he could. Jack wasn't there to stop him. But he also knew that, if he was dragged down to the office, right then, on the first day, he wasn't gonna live for much longer. Not only would Jack chew him out, but Snyder's response might as well be deadly. And not even just for him. So he slowly unclenched his fist and brought it back down to his side. His eyes however, did not move from the boy who might be the death of him.

"No sir," Race grumbled out. He still did not turn away from the boy in front of him. The boy who just smirked at him.

"Then I suggest you sit down." And Race thanked God he wasn't about to be written up. He gave the bully one last, hard glare before he reluctantly sat back down. He turned his eyes back to the book and waited for the monotone voices to continue speaking, but they didn't. "Why don't you read a few paragraphs, Anthony?" And that was when Race went ghost white. He heard the room go completely silent. They could've heard a pin drop. He knew all eyes were on him. So his eyes darted around the page, trying to make sense of the letters. Trying to understand.

"U-uhm... I..." he stuttered, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation. He felt his hands starting to shake and it seemed to warm, immensely, in the room. "I..." His heart was pounding so hard as he tried to do as he was told. Tried to just get through. And he was sure he'd been praying in that moment. He was sure it was God who sent his angels down and set the bell off.

The other kids didn't give him a second glance. Besides the bully, who "accidentally" bumped him on his way out. But Race didn't move. The teacher was still staring at him. He knew he was. So he didn't move. He didn't even look up from his desk. Just sat there with a blank look on his face as everyone filed out of the room, leaving him behind.

They sat in silence for a minute. The man leaned against a desk next to Race's, making it hard for the boy to just stand and leave. Just stand and leave and run right to the only people he could be around right then. But he was stuck under the gaze of the man and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Do I make you nervous, Mr. Higgins?" the man asked, curiously as he watched the boy squirm under his gaze. Race didn't reply. Just sat in silence, waiting for the man to tell him he could leave. But he didn't. He only sighed and crossed his arms.

"Am I in trouble?" Race asked, still not looking up from the book on the desk. He wasn't reading it. He just couldn't look up at the man.

The teacher sighed again and looked over the boy with curious eyes. Then he uncrossed his arms, kneeling down, below his new student. His arms rested on the desk and Race leaned back, trying to move himself out of the man's reach by simply leaning away. "I'm letting you off with a warning, Anthony. But you ever act up like that in my class again, I'm gonna have to write you up. You understand?" Race didn't give any sort of response. But the man continued anyways, trusting the boy got it. "One more thing, Mr. Higgins."

Race bit back a groan. There was more? He just wanted to get to his brothers. "Can you tell me what this says?" The man pointed to a big, bolded red word in the book that sat open in front of him.

Race laughed, bitterly. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back down at the page. Then he shook his head when he realized the man was dead serious. He just scoffed and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before hastily walking to the door. And the man didn't stop him. Only sadly shook his head as the boy left, keeping himself a mystery to the world.

Jack sighed in relief as the bell sounded. He wasn't sure how he'd made it that long in the class. As he stood to his feet, Davey walked up to him from across the room. "It's not so bad..." he tried, but Jack just glared at him as he slung his bag over one shoulder.

"When can I see 'em?" It was out of the boy's mouth so fast, and Davey felt his heart clenching. He realized right then and there, the longest these boys had been apart must've only been for a few minutes at a time on a regular basis. An hour felt like an eternity to them. So he clasped his friend's shoulder.

"Soon, Jackie," he promised, and the boy nodded.

Jack took in a deep breath. Soon. He could wait. Soon. They were doing fine. He knew they'd be okay.

Then he turned around and nearly smacked right into someone who was walking past him, trying to get out of the classroom. He heard some books hit the floor and a startled gasp and he immediately bent down to help grab the person's things. "I'm sorry..." he muttered out as he handed the person their things that he'd caused them to drop. And then he looked up and his eyes froze on what he saw.

Her light brown hair was perfectly pulled back, out of her face. It was pinned on both sides of her head to keep it up. Her bangs covered her forehead and framed her features well. Her perfect skin made her look like she was shining in his eyes as she moved to grab more of the things that had fallen from her hands. She wore a button down shirt that showed off her curves a little bit and a vest over that. The skinny jeans she wore also hugged her body just the right way. And then when she looked up... and their eyes met... Jack was sure he'd never seen anything more perfect in his life.

"Excuse me, Miss," he apologized, a flirty tone in his voice as he looked at the girl in front of him. "Didn't see ya there." he smiled at her as she gave him a little, pitiful one and she stood to her feet. As she nodded at him, about to walk out he stopped her.

"I's could carry some a' those book for ya..." he offered, completely forgetting that Davey was there at all.

She paused for a moment, giving him a curious glare, noticing the bruise that was almost gone right around his eye, before continuing on her way. "That's alright. I don't need another cheeky boy doing my work for me." And then she was gone. Just like she'd never even been there and Jack found himself staring in the direction that she'd walked off in.

Davey chuckled and shook his head. "Cmon," he laughed, "we can go find Race and Crutchie right now. We've got fifteen minutes till next class." Jack seemed to snap out of it at that, but Davey wasn't sure his last encounter had, or ever would, leave his mind.

And he was right.

Chapter Text

The halls were a mess. People were running every which way with books and papers flying everywhere. There were the girls who were throwing themselves at every boy that walked by and the guys that would unsuccessfully say meaningless words to a beautiful blond and then get a smack to the face. There were those who looked like robots with blank faces and earbuds plugged into their ears, silencing the world around them. There were kids with their noses down in books, ramming into the people they had hoped to tune out and those who were too loud for the boy to handle. There were so many people and all Race could do was go back to the place that Davey told him to go between classes to see his brothers.

He saw the only three boys in the school he knew and ran up to them, dodging everyone else in his way. Jack looked to just be walking up to Crutchie, who was glancing at his schedule and switching some books in and out of his locker, placing them in his backpack. He could see the boy's hands shaking at all the shouting going on around them. And Race wished he could make it all go away.

"Race!" Jack greeted with a smile and a sparkle in those forest green eyes and before he could get another word out, Race crashed into him. He was still trembling, too, from the encounter he'd just had with a strange man he'd never met. "Whoa, kid, what's the matta'?"

Jack glanced over to Davey who just shrugged as he wrapped his little brother up in his arms. "Racer, you're shakin'... what happened?" He cupped the back of the boys neck and wrapped an arm around his back.

Crutchie shut his locker after putting his books in his back and turned to his brothers, not at all surprised to see how upset Race was. He knew his brother. He knew what class Race had just come from. He knew one thing about the teacher that would make the older boy extremely uncomfortable. He was a man. Davey gave him a confused look but Crutchie just shook his head, telling him to not do anything.

"Race, it couldn'ta been that bad," Jack tried. He rubbed the boy's back, though. He ignored the stares from the other kids that didn't get it. They didn't understand why the new kid was shaking, holding back tears. Jack did. But he wanted to hear what had happened that had pushed Race so far.

"He knows, Jack..." That was all the boy could manage.

Crutchie could hear the tightness of his brother's throat and he realized how badly he wanted to breakdown too. But he held it together right then. For his big brother who had no idea that he wanted to protect him too.

Jack sighed. "Who knows what?"

Race never got to answer as a voice rang out through the hallway. And all he could do was pull away from his brother as two boys strut down the school, annoying, cocky smirks on their faces. "Step aside!"

Davey groaned. He knew who was coming down the hall. And he didn't think these poor boys would be prepared for their abuses quite yet. But they didn't necessarily have a choice.

Race sniffled and watched as a familiar boy walked through the hall. Everyone moved out of his way. And another, bigger boy who looked just like him traveled behind him. And they spotted him. He saw his big brother step slightly in front of him, not liking the smirk on the younger boy's face as he came stomping towards the young gambler.

"This is him, Morris," the kid form class explained. "Almost gave me a black eye." Race scowled at him but kept his mouth shut, fearing that if his mouth started running, he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Before anything else was said, Crutchie limped over to his brothers, putting a hand on Race's shoulder. "The hell are ya talkin' about?"

"Woulda been more than a black eye..." Race muttered, making Jack put up his hand in an attempt to tell him to shut up.

The older of the two, Morris, stomped up to Jack, their eyes locked on each other and a fierce look took over both of their faces. "Step aside, newbie. That kid was pickin' on my brother. Ain't no one gets away with that."

Jack scoffed. This boy was about the same size as him. And he thought he could win in a fight against him? That was a laugh. "Just so happens we have somethin' in common," Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "No one messes with my kid brothas. So keep movin'." Their faces were inches apart, threatening each other with only the looks in their eyes.

Davey didn't know what to do. So he was reduced to standing, tensely, and watching the scene unfold. He thought about running to get the principal or maybe even a nearby teacher, but he didn't want Jack to get into trouble. He didn't know what kind of effect that would have on the small family that he'd quickly become friends with.

"What a lousy little bastard," the younger bully spat out, his dark eyes filled with an evil kind of laughter. "Can't even fight for himself," he laughed when Crutchie grew furious at his words but Race held him back when he made a move to do something about it. "Not that I'm surprised. The idiot can't even read." The boy only laughed at the horrified expression on the blond boy's face.

Jack growled and made a move to pounce on the boy that smirked at the kid behind him. But Davey stood in between them. "Oscar, stop it!" he demanded. "Let 'em have one day ta settle in," he asked, his hands up in defense as the boys glared at him.

Race felt Crutchie grip his arm as both his brothers now understood why he was so upset. He scowled at the other boy who was glaring at him with a smirk. "Ya won't always have big brother around to protect ya, Higgins." And with that final threat, they backed off, walking down the hallway and making themselves known throughout the school.

David sighed. He shook his head as they walked away, furious they hadn't been able to beat up on the new kids and get away with it, just like always. He turned back to his three friends. Race had a stone cold look on his face as Crutchie tried to talk to him, to get him to open up to them and Jack wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder.

"Race... are you okay?" The older boy didn't respond to his baby brother's question. He just sniffled and leaned up against his locker, pulling out of Jack's embrace, not wanting to look up at Davey who had just been exposed to his deepest secret.

Crutchie looked over at Jack. The oldest of them could see the fear in his eyes. That was just like the boy too. He wouldn't tell Jack if he had a bad day either. He knew that. And all he wanted was to hold his brothers, take them to Medda, tell them it was all gonna be alright. It had to be alright. But he couldn't. He was stuck in that damn building.

Race glanced over at his oldest brother with such a look of helplessness and embarrassment. "I can't do this, Jack..."

Crutchie saw Jack open his mouth, but he had something to say first. "Yes you can, Race." Race's eyes shot over to him in attempt to protest. But Crutchie shook his head. "Race, you are one a' the strongest guys I know," he assured, flashing his optimistic smile, however small it may have been at the moment, right at the older boy who was trying to remember to breathe. "You can do anythin'. Even this."

Race glanced up at his brother with so much doubt in his eyes. He was terrified. He was embarrassed. And then Jack put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "He's right, kid. You can do it. Just get through taday."

"Jack..." Race choked out and then stopped himself. He took a breath. He didn't like the way his own voice sounded. So he cleared his throat. "What'll happen if the Spida find out?" He spat out the word, getting across to all the boys how much he hated that man.

Jack sighed. He slung an arm around the boy's shoulders again. "He ain't gonna find out," he swore. Davey looked over at him, confused. But Jack waved him off.

"Race, we can still teach ya-" Crutchie tried. He just wanted his brother to calm down. When his brothers weren't calm, he felt like he couldn't breathe. If the two people in the whole world that he looked up to for protection and comfort were in a panic, Crutchie was at a loss. But Race wasn't hearing it.

"No ya can't!" It came out as a whine. He let his head fall back and hit the lockers behind him. "We tried that! But-" Race cut himself off with an irritated grumble. He stomped his foot like a small child. He was angry, frustrated with himself for not being able to learn. "It don't look like nothin'. Sometimes it's all... jumbled up and I's can't see the words you guys see..."

Davey worked hard to keep his mouth from falling open in understanding. He watched as Jack placed his hands on both sides of the trembling boy's face. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out," he assured but Race desperately tried blink away the tears in his eyes. He looked about ready to hit something in frustration.

"What kinda fifteen year old kid can't read?"

The words made Crutchie's heart break. The desperation in his big brother's voice made it almost impossible not to tear up.

Davey joined their circle, making his presence still known to the three boys that were all on the verge of something, weather it be tears, a breakdown or a lash out. Davey realized right then and there how stressful this situation must have been for them. For three boys who hadn't gone an hour without each other for years. Three boys who were terrified of making the smallest mistake. Three boys who didn't even know how teenagers let loose or had fun. Three boys that just wanted to protect each other from danger. And he put an arm around Crutchie's shoulders, comforting him and not missing the way Jack's eyes grew and them relaxed all in one moment.

A few seconds after that, the bell rang out through the hall and Davey could see the sheer look of desperation in Jack's eyes when Race's entire body slumped against the lockers. He felt Crutchie tense under his touch and he didn't know if it was because of a loud noise of the fear of being noticed by another nosy teacher.

Jack glanced at Race, ready to take the boy into his arms and tell him it was all gonna be alright. Tell him they'd make it through. But he knew showing affection in public couldn't be a regular thing in high school. He'd seen the looks of judgment and confusion the other kids gave him. He didn't like it. And he knew that they didn't like things they didn't understand. So he settled for a simple squeeze of the shoulder before his eyes wondered to his littlest brother.

Crutchie was shaking. His eyes were trained on the ground. He leaned heavily on his crutch and looked too focused on taking deep breaths. So Jack lightly pushed Race over towards Davey. "You two get goin'. We'll catch up."

Race glanced back at his brothers with a desperate expression. He didn't want to be alone with someone else, without Jack. But he saw how his older brother looked at their younger. So he sighed and walked as Davey started leading him to his next class. He decided, if Jack trusted Davey, so did he. So he went, knowing Crutchie wouldn't open up with him around. At least not after Crutchie knew he was scared too. So as he walked he took one final look back at the boy he would always protect and then let Davey lead him away.

Jack clipped his baby brother's chin, forcing him to look up at him. "Are you okay?"

Crutchie felt himself losing it. He felt his whole body shaking and he tightened his grip on his crutch. He leaned on it heavily before he took a shaky breath and answered. "N-no..." he voice broke, quietly as he tried to keep his volume where no one could hear it.

Jack felt his heart shattering. "Cmon, kid... you can do this..." he wiped away one stray tear that fell from the gimp boy's eye.

"It's so loud, Jack... and it sounds like-" Crutchie cut himself off. He let out a soft sob and couldn't have been more grateful to feel Jack's arms surround him. "And I can't see you or Race... and Race is scared and he can't be around the teachers and you's ain't there..." Crutchie rambled into his big brother's shoulder. "And I'm scared, Jack..."

Jack glanced around. The halls were basically empty now. They were new. They could be late and be given a break. And if they weren't, Jack was prepared to argue with them. He pressed a kiss to the boy's head, holding him close and allowing him to breathe in the quiet for a moment before he pulled away. "Hey... we will figure this out. I swear. Just get through taday, kid." He held his brother at arms length.

Crutchie sniffled and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He gave a short nod and looked around. "We's gonna be late..." he sighed out, annoyed.

Jack let out a breath. He pulled his brother to him one last time before they walked off, attempting to get to class before anyone called their guardian.

Someone was lecturing. Jack didn't even seem to care. The lights were off and the room was lit by the faint glow of the projector at the front of the room. His face was down in the thing in his hand that he absolutely treasured. He was sketching away, not even fully realizing what he was drawing. He was worried. Scared, even.

What if Snyder found out about Race? It couldn't end well for anyone. The poor kid was already embarrassed enough. He hated it more than anything in the world. And Crutchie, God, the kid was petrified. The lockers slamming, the bells screeching, the teachers yelling, it was too much. And they weren't together. How on earth was it supposed to be okay? How could they do this for the rest of the year if they could barely make it through the first day?

He let his pencil dance around the paper that had been blank only a few minutes before. For the first time, his eyes made out what he had been drawing during the class he should have been paying attention to. And his lips tugged upwards into the tiniest smile as he saw her. Her perfectly shaped eyes, the way her hair dangled around her soft face, the way her lips subtly hinted that she wanted so desperately to light up the world with her kind smile. She reminded him of someone. Someone he missed dearly. Running his hand over the page, he looked up.

She was sitting up in the front of the room, turned so he could see her. She looked up at him and gave him a small smirk before lightly waving a hand at him. He waved back, just a little, but his heart was dancing inside. How could he already be falling for a girl he'd only just met?

When he heard a gruff clearing of someone's throat, he looked up to the front of the room to find the teacher staring at him. He looked back down at his sketchbook. The teacher continued. And Jack continued to worry, happy he had gotten that one tiny moment of relief before he thought about the weight of the world on his shoulders again.

Jack watched the girl in the front of the room grab her things when the bell rang, at the same time, placing his own things in his bag, save for his sketchbook that he held to his chest with one arm, not showing anyone what he'd been drawing. She placed her notebook neatly in her bag so it rested up against her binder. Then she placed the straps of her backpack over both her shoulders before standing up and walking away from her desk. She looked to be in a hurry, as were most of the kids in there. And Jack knew why. That class was utterly boring. He wanted to run too. But he had to do something first.

The girl gasped as the new kid stood up fast and blocked her exit. "Hello again," he greeted with his charming smile that must have made all the girls swoon. He lightly leaned on the desk he'd been sitting on. She nodded to him and tried to walk around him, but he just jumped back in her way.

"Please go away, I'm trying to get to my next class." Her voice sent an odd feeling down in his chest and he felt butterflies in his stomach. He still didn't move.

"Twice in one day..." he remembered, thinking he'd never forget about the first time he'd seen this girl, knowing every time she came into view it would be like seeing her for the first time all over again. "Ya think it's fate?"

The girl rolled her eyes but her smile gave her away. She found him as charming as she expected every girl to. And he extended out his hand to her. "Jack. Jack Kelly."

"Is that what it says on your rap sheet?" The girl surprised herself with her words.

Jack laughed at the words, his eyebrows shooting up in shock before he spoke again. "You got a name?"

The girl looked up at him in surprise. Most might have taken that insult and left. But not this boy. He was intriguing. His kind green eyes and charming smile were only the beginning, she knew it. So she extended her arm and shook his outstretched hand. "Katherine Plumber," she stated, giving him a curious look, as if no one had ever cared enough to actually ask her name before.

Jack's grin widened and he held his sketchbook tightly to his chest with one arm. He'd never felt like this before. A sensation rose in him that he couldn't place and he found his mouth forming words without his consent. "Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?"

The blush that rose to Katherine's cheeks was priceless. The way she looked down to the ground to try to hide it was even better. But his favorite part was the smile that stayed on her face. It was the best view Jack had ever seen. And he realized he wanted to keep seeing it, though he figured he should let her past now. "Where is a smart, independent," he stressed, remembering her earlier words of not wanting to be helped, "lady, such as yourself, going next?"

She smiled up at him again. And now, Jack thought it might now be so bad in high school. "History. And you?"

He shoved his hand down in his pocket and pulled out his schedule, looking for wherever he was supposed to go next. "Room 632," he responded, realizing he really didn't know where he was going.

When she laughed, Jack's world light up and, for a single moment, his troubles were gone and everything was so much brighter. "Come with me, it's on the way." And they were off with a new hope in both of their eyes.

Chapter Text

Katherine sat in her class silently. She sat up in her chair with one of her hands lazily tapping on the small wooden desk in front of her and the other, holding up her chin. There was a binder out on top of the uncomfortable, small table she sat at and a blank piece of lined paper on top of it. A pencil bounced up and down between her moving fingers as she stared blankly ahead, a smile still placed on her features from the encounter she's had a few minutes ago with a new, charming, mysterious, new boy. Jack.

She found herself unable to focus on the lecture she was supposed to be listening to. The man in the front of the room was oblivious to the boys on their phones, snickering to each other about the latest girl they'd slept with. He didn't notice the guy that was asleep on his desk in the back of the classroom. He was ignoring the girl next to her, fixing her make up and hair. Why should he take any notice to her, sitting in a class and day dreaming about a boy she'd just met?

What she didn't expect, however, was for someone else to notice. "Bet you're glad you got out of that mess." Katherine looked over to see the girl fixing her hair and makeup speaking to her.

"What mess?" The beautiful girl wasn't too taken into the conversation with her classmate. But she was too polite to ignore her, no matter how badly she wanted to. Those polished nails and pristine hair always made her cringe. Why did kids try so hard to be models?

"That mess of a teenage boy that was practically throwing himself at you in the hall." The other girl wasn't even looking at her. She was too busy perfecting her face full of color that made her look inhuman.

Katherine's eyes widened in shock. She didn't think anyone would've noticed. She hoped no one did. Sadly, she was wrong. Someone had noticed. Someone she wished hadn't. That, however, wasn't what bothered her the most. She was irritated that this girl was judging this boy without even knowing his name. "Jack."

The other girl stopped and looked at her, dumbfounded. "What?"

"His name," Katherine clarified for her. "He has one, you know. Jack. Jack Kelly." The girl tried to force away the smile that creeped up on her when she thought about him telling her his name. She sighed before turning back to the teacher at the front of the room. But her neighbor wasn't quite finished yet.

"Oh my God, you're already crushing!" Katherine groaned. She had no desire to continue this conversation. It was clear to everyone but the girl next to her that she was getting irritated. "What's your father gonna say?"

Katherine didn't respond. That question had stunned her into silence. And the other girl smirked at her. She didn't turn to look but she could feel the smugness practically radiating off of her. "He wouldn't approve, Katherine. No one would," she stated in such a condescending tone, Katherine thought she might hit her. All she could do was remind herself to breathe. "That guy, whatever his name is, is nothing. He has no money and no reputation. Let him down easy. I'm sure someone so low class would understand."

The Plumber girl clenched her teeth together. This boy... Jack... he wasn't nobody. And damn it, she was going to find out who he was behind that charming smirk. She wanted to know him. And she suspected the same from him. And for the next hour, all she could think about were those mysterious green eyes. These kids may not see it, but she did. He had a story to tell. And she wanted to hear it.

"I hope you wanted a friend, Mr. Kelly..." she found herself muttering to no one. "Because now you've got one."

Jack thanked God when the bell rang. It was the last class of the day. He didn't think he'd ever waited longer for the end of a day in his life. He packed up his things and stood up, taking one quick glance around the room. All the desks were in perfect rows. The chairs left a constant space between each column. It was so perfectly organized. It made Jack a little nauseated. Nothing in his life had ever looked so pristine. He wasn't sure he wanted it that way. But for now, he supposed it was better than the disaster of a life he was living at home.

The classroom was clearing out. Jack slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to leave. Ready to go see his boys. But a hand caught his shoulder forcing him to turn around.

"Where do you think your going, newbie?" The voice was cruel and condescending. Something Jack had had quite enough of in his seventeen years of life. Those dark eyes glared daggers at him and Jack ripped himself from the grip, grumbling under his breath. But the other boy didn't like that. "Ya got something to say?"

Jack rolled his eyes and scoffed, turning and walking away, making it all the way into the hall. But the bully wasn't finished yet. "Don't walk away from me!" The other boy ran out behind him. Jack just kept going. But he wasn't ready for the threat that followed. "You can't be with your stupid brothers all the time! Someday they might run into some trouble."

At this, Jack stopped. He ground his teeth together before he turned to the boy. "Leave them alone, Morris."

The bully smirked. "Stay out of my way and maybe they'll be okay. But if that illiterate punk raises a hand at my brother or me ever again, I can't make you any promises."

Jack clenched his fists at his sides. He couldn't fight. Not there. Not then. Not after he'd made it through the day.

"Nobodies like you don't do too well around here," Morris continued. "So do yourself a favor and stay in line." And that was it. Then the bully turned and left, leaving Jack with a mind full of threats on the two people that held closest.

The halls were going silent. Teenagers were passing him by, laughing and arguing with each other, desperate for the fresh air outside of their daily prison. He was being shoved out of the way of oblivious other kids and he found the only thing he could do was move against the lockers, not sure where he was going. Only knowing that the spot he was at looked like the one he been at earlier, with his brothers. That was when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Jack whirled around, startled by the sudden touch before he saw her. That soft brown hair, those deep, wonderful eyes, and those two, perfect lips that were barely curled up in a small smile. And, despite the conversation he'd just had, he felt himself smiling at the sight of this girl he didn't know.

Katherine jumped a little bit as the boy did. But once he turned to her, she felt her smile fall back into place. "Hi..." she found herself saying, awkwardly.

He flashed her an award winning smile. "Hi, Plumber." He placed his arm practically over the girl's head in a flirtatious manner, causing her to giggle a little bit. "What're ya, followin' me?" he teased.

She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Kelly. You happen to be right next to my locker," Katherine stated, matter-of-factly.

Jack smirked and moved away, allowed her to twist her lock and open the thing up, revealing neatly stacked books and a container of pens and pencils on different shelves. Jack watched her place some things in her bag and then shut her locker, smiling at him as she turned to face him. "So... what's your story?"

Jack raised his eyebrows as he leaned his back against the lockers again, crossing his arms over his chest. "My story?" he repeated, curious as to what she meant.

"Yeah. Who are you, Jack Kelly?" she inquired, taking a step toward him, squinting her eyes up at him, awaiting his answer. He smiled his perfectly charming smile at her.

"Who says I got a story?" he shot back, playfully. He was smitten. And he couldn't stop himself. She was beautiful. Her eyes made his heart flutter and her smile made him feel like he was flying. He couldn't hide that feeling forever.

"Well, what kind of guy are you? You're not like others, I can tell you that." Katherine watched Jack smirk. He was about to answer when something behind the girl caught his attention. And his face fell, immediately.

"Right now, I'm a guy who only sees one of his brothas when he should see two." Jack pushed himself off of the wall with a sigh, walking around Katherine. The girl turned to watch him walk up to another boy. A boy with a crutch and a bag hanging over both of his shoulders. Katherine stood and watched the two interact, surprised at the scene.

"Where is he?" Jack asked his baby brother, hoping that the other was nearby. The younger boy limped up to him and shook his head.

"Davey's lookin' for him," Crutchie explained, quickly as he stopped in front of his big brother. "He was s'posed ta meet me outside my last class. I don't know where he is."

Jack sighed and wrapped an arm around the boy, assuring him it was okay. Crutchie leaned into the embrace as if he hadn't been in his brother's arms for days. "Cmon, kid. It okay..." Jack smiled. He knew the today hadn't been the greatest but if he could get his brothers to smile, he considered the day a win. So he grabbed the cap off of his own head and lovingly placed it over his brother's blond hair. When the boy smiled, so did Jack. So did Katherine.

Jack looked back up at the girl in front of him, still holding his brother close to his left side, feeling the metal crutch be clutched tightly underneath the younger boy's arm. And suddenly, he remembered he hadn't yet introduced his brother to this girl that he'd taken a strong liking to. "I'm sorry, Katherine," he quickly apologized with a smile. Then he gestured to the innocence contained inside one small boy. "This is my baby brother, Crutchie."

Katherine's heart melted. Such innocence had been lost to her. She hadn't seen it in a long time and that smile made her heart flutter in response. She grinned back at him and extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Crutchie." The young boy stopped for a moment as she reached for him, but, with a slight nod from Jack, he reached his hand out, letting go of his ever present crutch to shake her hand.

"Nice ta meet ya too..." Crutchie mumbled out, shyly. The boy watched Katherine's eyes light up when he spoke to her. He didn't know why she was so excited to be talking to him. The new gimp. He knew he didn't stand a chance here. But it made him feel better to know that at least someone was willing to give him a second glance.

"I found him!" A voice rang out through the almost empty hallway. And Jack could feel Crutchie's body be overcome with relief when a familiar groan met his ears.

Katherine glanced behind her new friend at the two boys making their way down to them. The taller of the two was dragging the other behind him. His hair was a mess and his brown eyes were blank as he was pushing all emotion to the side. But it was the other boy that caught Katherine's eye.

His curly blond hair was knotted and sticking up at odd angles. He was stumbling behind the boy, clearly older than him, tripping over his own feet as if he had no will to be up and walking. His hands were shoved in his pockets and a satchel dangled down by his hip as the other boy had him held gently yet forcefully by his arm. But what the girl took notice to the most were those blue eyes. Not only were they as mesmerizing as Jack's, but they told a story she couldn't quite clearly read. They were puffy and red all around and to anyone else in that God forsaken place they would look completely normal. But not to her. She could tell when someone had been crying. And, she quickly realized, so could Jack. And the last thing her eyes picked up on was the faded bruise, one that looked just like Jack's, peaking up from under, what looked to be, makeup.

"Racer, where the hell where you?" Jack's voice was gentle and quiet, as to not startle the boy walking up to them.

Before Race could even try to think up something. Something to get out of the conversation. A witty distraction or a passive comment, Davey was already speaking. And he could feel the eyes that landed on him as he tried to shrink in on himself, praying he'd disappear.

"I found him locked in one of the bathrooms near the cafeteria." Race looked solely down at the ground. He couldn't lift his gaze for anything. Not even when a safe arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"...Race?" His baby brother's voice couldn't even pull him out of his own head. He blinked back tears. He could clearly see four pairs of feet. Two of them were ones he knew. One of them was a new friend he was trying to warm up to. The last were two shoes he didn't recognize. Two brown boots that belonged to a woman. He couldn't break down. Not in front of a stranger.

"Racer, what happened?"

Race shrugged his arm out of Davey's grip but did not move away from his big brother's. His voice was broken and high pitched but somehow he managed to speak. "Can-... Can we just go, Kelly? Please?"

Jack glanced back at Katherine who gave him a sad smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Kelly." And she began to back away, ignoring the look in Jack's eyes that gave away how badly he wanted her to stay.

"Same ta you, Plumber." And the girl turned and left, not fully grasping the situation she had just witness but knowing one thing; She wanted to make it better. Someday, somehow, she was gonna help these boys from the horrors they were suffering through. Little did she know, there was more than what was just on the surface.

Crutchie watched his older brother shake in Jack's arms. As Katherine walked away, he watched Race practically lose it. Davey tried to step towards the fifteen-year-old, but Jack shook his head at him. And Crutchie watched as Race turned to throw his arms around their older brother.

"Ya locked yourself in, didn't ya?" Jack sighed and glanced over at Davey who just shrugged. Race didn't respond, so David did.

"He wouldn't open the door. I had to get keys from the janitor." Jack wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. "He was sittin' in the corner... shakin'..."

"Race, what the hell were you thinkin'?" Crutchie's hadn't known his voice could be so intensely quiet. But Race peered up at him, from Jack's embrace.

"Sh-she wouldn't... leave me 'lone..." Race saw how scared his brother was. Damn it, he needed to pull it together. He turned his face back into Jack's shirt, trying desperately to hide the tears. But he felt his baby brother's shaky hands on his back. And it only made Race want to cry harder. "I had ta get away, Jack... she kept touchin' me... I didn't like it... i-it was like..."

Jack's eyes widened as he thought Race would actually say something. Something that Jack so desperately just wished he would say. Something about his last he would never speak of. But he didn't. He shook his head and pressed himself into Jack's chest.

Crutchie felt the tears well up in his eyes. Seven hours and they were already broken by the place so many teenagers called hell. Crutchie looked over to Davey who shrugged. "Who was his last teacher?" the older boy asked. And Jack gently pulled away from his brother, giving Crutchie a sad look as he noticed him crying too.

Davey watched Jack wipe away Race's tears and the younger boy sniffled, straightening up, trying to succumb to his confident, standoffish stature that the tall boy had seen for a split second with the other boys at the theatre. But Davey could see the act wasn't quite landing. He watched Jack give the boy a small smile as he gently took the small schedule from Race's sweatshirt pocket, quickly reading off a name. "Roland." And Davey's eyes widened in understanding. Jack noticed. "We got a problem here, Dave?"

Crutchie looked at the taller boy with worried eyes. "What the hell, Davey? Who is it?"

Davey sighed and looked around fast before he took another step to the brothers. He noticed the way Race shied away from him. He saw all their worried faces. "Roland has been known to..." How was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to review the rumor that hadn't yet even been spoken about to the school? "She's been known to get close to her students." That was all Davey was able to mumble out. The topic clearly made all of them a little bit uncomfortable. And Race let out a shaky breath before he sniffled.

"Sh... she was touchin' my hair... and sh-she was rubbin' my shoulders... I don't like her... I had ta get away." Race tried to contain himself before speaking again. "'N kids won't l-leave me alone, neitha'... they's all laughin' and shoutin' and teachers 're bangin' on desks and... I don't like it here, Jack..." Jack sighed when his brother tried to explain it. It wasn't necessary. The boy had been through enough in his life. They all had. They didn't need this.

"It's okay, Racer... you're gonna be fine." Jack saw Race's eyes flash a familiar anger, taught to him by someone Jack wished they could be rid of. Then the kid was back to feeling helpless and he stomped his foot to the ground. So Jack let Crutchie embrace him. And Race couldn't do anything but hug the smaller boy back, burying his face in his baby brother's shoulder as the younger boy grasped onto his shirt, trying to stop his own tears.

"Can we just get outta here?" It was a simple enough request. So Jack glanced to Davey who smiled to them.

"Yeah. Let's get outta here."

Jack sighed as they looked up at the apartment building. He didn't like it. The ground was good. He liked it down there. His brothers were down there. For a single moment, everything was okay. The sun was setting in the distance and the sky was a beautiful orange color. It made Jack's heart long for a place that they could go. A place where they would be safe from any danger. A place they'd wanted to be for so long it hurt.

"Can't we just go ta Medda's, Jack?" Jack glanced back at his gimp brother when the boy asked. He saw the hope and desperation in his eyes green eyes. He wish so badly that the answer could be yes. But he shook his head.

"Ya know how mad the Spider'll be." Jack's voice was barely a whisper as he gazed back up. He hated the view. Most would find it beautiful. But Jack could see through that. He saw the evil at the top of the building. It was waiting to swallow them whole. And the only thing he could do was lead his brothers right towards it, in fears of it growing darker by the second.

Jack glanced over at his other brother. Race was standing next to Crutchie, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked up at the cruel apartment too. The blue eyed boy caught his gaze and they made a silent agreement. The same one they'd made everyday for four years... for forever.

They made it to the top of the fire escape. Jack quietly slipped the window open and stepped in. Glancing around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The main room was almost empty. There was a beer on the table, half finished, and the room smelled of smoke and alcohol. But Jack knew that the room couldn't be empty for much longer. So he helped his brothers in too.

Crutchie let his older brothers pull him into the room. Race held his crutch as Jack practically scooped him up and carried him through the window. And once he was back on the ground, he grabbed his crutch back as fast as he could, letting his blue eyed brother slip in as well.

They were in the dreaded apartment for all of a minute to get the window shut before a gruff voice was heard and all three heads turned to face him like their lives depended on it.

"You were supposed to lay low." That was it. That was how he started. The low, angry growl. And then Jack stepped in front of his brothers, making sure to defend them with everything he had.

"What the hell are ya talkin' about, Snyder?" Jack was a ticking time bomb. His emotions had been bottled up all day on account of the shaking boys in his arms and the girl he couldn't get off of his mind. In that moment, everything was coming back to him. He had lead his brothers into the unknown, terrified of what might be discovered about them. He'd held them in his arms when they were scared and the old man didn't even care that they were hanging on by a thread. Seven hours away from each other with teachers leaning over their shoulders at every moment trying to get out their every secret. Seven hours of bullies trying to expose them as cowards and misfits. Seven hours of the deafening bells and orders and other kids only to come home to a man who wanted nothing more than a paycheck. Only to come home to a man with stress and frustrations and two clenched fists.

The man stepped up to him. His dark eyes were furious and nostrils flared with irritation. Jack saw that his tie had been removed from the rest of his ensemble. The suit he was wearing was unbuttoned and it truly looked as though the man didn't care about how he looked. And then Jack quickly realized the worse part of everything. The man wasn't even close to drunk.

"I just got a very interesting phone call." Snyder's eyes were pointed behind Jack to the boy whom they all knew was the least favored of their small family. And Jack didn't have to turn around to see Race's gaze shoot down to the floor in a panic as he tried to figure out what he'd done wrong now. "A Mr. Kloppman." Jack didn't move as the man took another step forward. "Raising a fist at a classmate and then..." The hated man actually laughed before he spoke again. "And then not being able to read?"

Jack bit his cheek. He held back his growl and tried to stop his hands from balling up in fists.

"No wonder no one wants you, boy." The word held so much venom. So much hatred. "Who would want a fifteen year old kid who doesn't know the simplest things?"

Race felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He felt the blood rush up to his face as he became beat red, embarrassed at the words flowing from the man's mouth. He clutched onto the strap that crossed his chest and connected to his bag.

"It ain't his fault, Mr. Snyda'. He's tried-" Crutchie's voice was so small and terrified. It shook with every word he spoke as he stepped closer to his brother.

"Shut up, crip!" The boy jumped at the sudden outburst. And he stepped closer to Race. Their arms were touching, but neither of them dare moved after that. They just stood behind Jack, unsure of what was to follow.

"Out of all the kids in the world, why did I end up with such idiots?" Snyder shook his head in disappointment. Then he pointed to Race. "You'll never be more than a stupid bastard." The boy's head fell with more shame in every word. "You can't do anything right, you worthless piece of-"

"Shut up." Race gasped quietly and his gaze shot over to his big brother.

"Jack-"

"No, Race. Ya ain't stupid. None a' that's true." Jack straightened up to his full height, challenging the man eye to eye with just the look on his face. "You're the one who made us go ta that place. This ain't their fault!"

The smack echoed throughout the room. The two younger brothers held their breath when the noise sounded. Neither of them had it in themselves to look up from the floor when their protector gasped in pain. All they could do was wait for the yelling to continue, assuming that slap would be Jack's one warning. Assuming that Jack would take it. But he didn't.

A scream ripped from Jack's throat as he stomped up to Snyder. He shoved the old man back. And he followed through with a swift punch to the chest. It took the boy a moment to realize what he'd done. And as he he did, his anger started to melt away and began to transform into mere panic instead. He took a step back, breathing hard.

Race looked up at his brother. When he saw Jack in the beginning stages of fright, he grabbed his little brother, who was tensing up and watching their guardian recover from the blows and grow angrier. "No... please..." The boy was about to launch himself into that fight. And Race stopped him just before he could.

Crutchie gasped when two strong arms wrapped around his frame. His crutch fell from under his arm and clattered to the ground as he was lifted off of the floor. "Put me down!"

Race ignored the boy. His brother fought against his hold and kicked his legs, trying to get to Jack as the screams started. Race held back his own sobs as he heard the oldest of them screaming for the man to stop. He dragged Crutchie to the back room.

"Race! Stop!" Crutchie didn't even know he was crying as Race gently dropped him down onto the bed. "Jack! He's hurting him!"

Race was beginning to get frantic. He heard the screams too. But he had to protect Crutchie. No matter what... he had to protect his baby brother. So when Crutchie tried to stand up screaming and crying out for Snyder to stop, for Jack to be alright, he pushed him back down onto the bed and placed his hands on either side of the gimp's face. "Hey, hey, hey, Crutch. I need you to calm down, alright?"

"He's hurt and he's screamin' and I don't like it, Race..." Crutchie was mumbling so fast. Some of it was nonsense. The boy was shaking. And Race tried to wipe away his tears only for more to come rushing in.

"Breathe, Crutchie..." Race tried to block out those horrific noises from the other room. The sound of harsh hits and pained cries. He held back a scream whenever the other boy couldn't.

Crutchie was still fighting against his big brother. Jack was crying. They could hear him sobbing. Crutchie didn't know how long it had been since he'd heard his oldest brother cry. But the hits seemed to have stopped. They could hear a low, condescending voice. It didn't take much to place who it belonged to. And Crutchie continued to shake and cry as Race's arms encircled him, bringing him into a safe hold. He felt Race playing with his hair and cradling his head to his chest but something about it felt wrong.

Race held his brother close and let the younger boy squeeze his eyes shut tight as they waited in silence for whatever was to come next. That was when the tears fell from his eyes. That was when he couldn't keep it together any longer.

Jack's vision was blurred. He was breathing hard. His whole body hurt bad. He was curled up in a ball on the ground beneath the couch, trying to shield himself from further harm. His hands were clutched together at his chest and his eyes were closed tight.

"Pathetic. How do you think you can take care of two kids when you can't even defend yourself?" Jack let in shaky breaths, trying to calm himself down. He could feel the tear tracks that stuck to his face. He knew that he was letting out an occasional sob or whimper. But he was glad his brothers weren't getting hit. He was glad it was him. "How dare you come at me like that, boy?" Jack didn't respond to a word the man said. He only tried to remind himself to breathe. "Do you have any idea what I could do?"

The silence that passed was long and awkward. It made Jack all the more uncomfortable. He made the mistake of opening his eyes and he could see the old man scowling at him. Jack tried to shrink in on himself more when Snyder crouched down next to him. He tried to swat away the hand that rested in his hair only to have his wrist grabbed. "I think you need to be taught a proper lesson, you little bastard." And Jack's eyes widened.

The two boys in the back room held onto each other for dear life. Race could feel Crutchie sobbing against him and he hoped the boy couldn't feel the same. He closed his eyes praying that Jack was alright. He wished it would all just end.

That's when Race heard a loud crack. And then he heard the inevitable cry that followed. "Oh my God..."

Crutchie's green orbs shot open at the sounds coming from the main room. He tried to push through Race but the older boy held him still. "Race, he has the whip!" he screamed, as if the his brother didn't know.

Race squeezed his eyes shut, praying for it all to just go away. He knew it. He knew Snyder had the whip. But there was nothing either of them could do to stop it now. So he just held onto Crutchie tighter, resting his chin in the boy's hair and whispering a small prayer. It was something he hadn't done in a long time.

Jack's arms were above his head, bound together with duck tape at his wrists. He was on his stomach on the ground. He couldn't shield himself from the lashing on account of his hands being wrapped around the leg of a desk in the corner. Snyder made sure, even after his far too intense beating, that he couldn't move. He could feel his ribs throbbing. He couldn't be sure they weren't broken. And his head was killing him. His tongue was steadily bleeding from where he'd bitten it. The red substance dripped from his lips and his nose. He was sure he'd be choking on it if he were on his back. He could hardly breathe. The air had been knocked out of him. But Snyder wasn't done yet.

The whip cracked again and Snyder let the boy scream. "You brought this on yourself! Take it like a man!"

Race heard it again. The loud snap of the rope and the anguish that followed. He couldn't hold in a sob as he held the struggling boy in his arms tighter. His heart hurt. He felt his legs shaking as he knew he'd be unable to keep himself from doing what he did next.

"Don't move, Crutchie." He pulled away. He didn't want to. But this was worse than anything they'd been through in a long time. And he couldn't let it continue. He took a step back from the boy and made a move to the door.

"But Race-"

"I mean it, Chris!" Race didn't like raising his voice. Especially not at his younger brother who had no desire to be around loud noises. But if he hadn't done it, he wasn't sure the defiant, innocent boy would do as he'd asked. "Don't. Move."

Crutchie jumped at the use of that name. He jumped at the use of that voice. He hadn't heard either in a long time. But he didn't say anything. All he could do was do as he was told. That is... until Race slowly moved to the door, quietly sneaking out of it. And then Crutchie couldn't stay. He couldn't just sit and wait. So he stood on one unsteady leg and braced himself against the wall, making it to the door and sliding down the wall right next to it, peering out into the room he was rarely ever allowed to be in.

"Stop! Please!" Race clenched his jaw and snuck his way through the main room. He ignored the heart wrenching cries and hid himself from the view of a certain spider by crouching in front of the couch, knowing no one could see him there. His eyes were trained on the kitchen. If he could get there it would all be fine.

Crutchie watched from the small crack in the door. One of his green eyes peered through, allowing him to see Race, clearly. But he couldn't see Jack. Only his legs and the way Snyder stood above him. He could see the man's hand raised over his head and he could see the long, black, stick he held as he brought it down again and again onto his brother's back.

The boy watched as Race practically crawled into the kitchen and opened up a drawer. And Crutchie's eyes widened as he had realized what his brother was after even before the small metal thing was in his hand.

Jack screamed. It happened again and again and he cried. He closed his eyes, letting his mind try and wander to better days. Days of his childhood that were no where near golden. But Jack could say with confidence that it was better than this. So much better than this. And one more scream erupted from his throat before he heard the sound of something colliding and then a body falling to the floor.

Somehow, Jack mustered up the strength to open his eyes. But he didn't even need to do that to hear harsh breathing that wasn't his own. And he didn't need to do that to hear something metal drop to the ground. And he didn't need to do that to feel a shaky hand take comfort in his soft hair. But he needed to do that to see those blue eyes. They were terrified. But before Jack could say a word, his vision became dark around the edges and his breaths were too fast for him to be breathing healthily. With a mutter of a language Jack invented in that moment, the seventeen year old promptly let his eyes fall shut, unable to prevent the younger boy's terror, like he knew he should have, before he lost all consciousness.

Davey sat against on his bed, his back against the wall. He was being eaten alive by the silence in his own apartment. He felt himself letting tears grace his cheeks, not sure exactly what they were for, only knowing that there had been screams.

"Ta survive in this side of Manhattan, mindin' your own business is key."

The boy hadn't known exactly how hard that would be. But all he could do was respect the words and close his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging his pillow close to him.

"I'm so sorry, Jack..."

Chapter Text

The world was dark and the pain was overwhelming. Jack couldn't move. His back stung and burned like fire. His arms ached along with his legs. His head and heart were pounding far too hard and far too fast. He couldn't think straight. Everything went by in a blur. He could hear echoes of a conversation he couldn't quite grasp and panicked tones of the people involved. But the boy wasn't sure how long he lay there before he could pick out voices.

"What the hell were ya plannin' on doin'?" The words were spoken with force and so much anger that Jack wasn't sure he'd even heard right. He knew that voice. It was one that was supposed to be filled with innocence and optimism. Though, he supposed there hadn't been much time for either recently.

"... I don't know..." That voice... something about it was wrong. It was quiet and unsure and completely terrified. "Just drop it, Crutchie..."

"Just drop it?!" Jack barely registered the bed shift as someone moved, just above his head. "This wasn't just anotha' stupid way ta stop Snyda', Race!" The panic was evident in the boy's voice. It made Jack's heart clench. "You had a gun! Ya could've-"

"I said drop it!" That wasn't a whisper anymore. It was a full on demand. Jack wanted to scold his brother. They never raised their voices at each other like that. Never. And Crutchie certainly didn't deserve it. And then Jack's mind seemed to freeze for a moment when the words caught up to him. A gun?

Jack couldn't open his eyes, but he could practically see the hurt expression on his littlest brother's face before it was masked by anger and confusion. "This wasn't your idea, was it?" Silence was the response. "You're becomin' just like him..." The disappointment was all too clear. "Spot Conlon's a criminal, Race! In and out of Juvie! Stop tryin' ta be like him!" Crutchie was begging now. It hurt Jack's heart.

For a moment, there was a tense silence. Too much had been said, and there was no taking it back now. But the words that slipped out of Race's mouth didn't seem to comfort anyone. "Spot neva' killed no one..."

Jack didn't like the argument. But he still couldn't find the energy in him to say anything. And he found himself wondering how he'd gotten the way he was. Everything still hurt.

"He tried to, Race." That was what mattered. Not that he hadn't. That he'd tried. Jack knew that too.

"He was protectin' me! Dammit, he was protectin' you!"

Jack was sure he was about to lose it. Hearing those two voices go at it got to him. It hit him so much more then he could handle at the moment.

"Race, I don't know what's goin' on in that stupid head a' yours, but-"

"Stop... fighting..." Jack's voice was weak. Even weaker than he felt, if that was possible. It was raspy, from screaming he'd guessed. It rung in his whole head, echoing his own words back to him. But he didn't care. "Please, God... stop fighting..." he begged. He couldn't stand it.

Race gave his little brother one last glare, but he couldn't find it in himself to do more than that after his brother started talking to them. His voice tugged at Race's heart. So the blue-eyed boy shut his mouth and then continued to do what he'd been doing before. He held a rag in his hand. It was a red mess. The once white cloth had touched his saviors wounds too many times. And it was tearing Race to pieces. It shoulda been me...

Crutchie could see Race's new found hesitation. Jack was awake now. But, he couldn't stop. So his older brother carefully soaked the rag in the bowl of warm water again. Crutchie could see the water splash red before the rag was once again removed and moving slowly to Jack's back.

Race jumped when Jack let out a pathetic cry. He tensed as the older boy did and was frozen in place as the brunette grasped at the sheets above his head, trying desperately to relieve himself of the pain. The fifteen-year-old couldn't move. He could still hear the screams echoing in his head. God, why did his brother have to do that?

Crutchie grabbed Jack's hand when it was clear he needed something to clutch onto. He didn't look back up at Race. He didn't know if he could. So he settled for running his free hand through Jack's hair as their brother slowly and reluctantly cleaned out the awful gashes that littered Jack's whole back.

It took everything inside Jack to get his eyes to open. It hurt. The dimmed light made his head start pounding even more and the attempt to focus on the world around him was a challenge he hadn't been prepared to face.

He was on a bed. Their bed. He was in their room. He lay flat on his stomach on top of it. His arms were sprawled out over him and his face was turned to the side. He could see Crutchie. He was combing a hand through his hair and shakily rubbing away dried tears and blood. Even in the dark, Jack could still see the tear streaks that stuck to his brother's cheeks. And at his hip, Jack knew Race sat. He couldn't turn around to look. It all hurt too much. His whole body felt weak and exhausted and when the cloth touched his back again, he hissed, wanting nothing more than to escape the pain.

"Hold still, Kelly." Race didn't like putting his brother through this. But he couldn't leave those cuts the way they were. It was bad. Really bad. They were deep and still bleeding. But it was clear to him that Jack didn't care. He tensed even more as the older boy tried to push himself up.

"Where's-" Jack couldn't bite back a hiss as his whole body screamed for relief. All he could do was let himself fall back onto the mattress. He groaned. He was breathing hard. But in a gasp, he was able to get out his question, "Spida'?"

When Crutchie glared at Race, the curly headed boy felt a pang of guilt eat at him. A surge of adrenaline spiked up in him as he thought back to that terrifying moment. That one when he'd held something in his hand that made him dangerous. Something that could've made him more than just a part-time thief. And Race couldn't look his baby brother in the eye right then. "Out cold..." the boy finally answered. "Layin' in the livin' room, covered in beer..." he muttered, tiredly. It had been a long day. A really long day.

Jack squeezed Crutchie's hand when he felt the rag dab at his back again. Then he bit his lip. He didn't know if he truly wanted the answer to the question he was about to ask. But he couldn't let it go unanswered. "Race... what... what were ya gonna do?"

There was silence. Thick and tense. Jack could feel the dabs cease for a split second as his brother received the question. He could hear the deep breaths Race took and the scared look in Crutchie's eyes as they relived a moment Jack couldn't exactly remember all too well.

Race firmly pressed his lips together. He didn't want to respond. He didn't know if his brothers would ever look at him the same way. So he remained in his silence, carefully caring for his big brother the way his big brother had always cared for him.

Jack sighed. He had his answer. But that didn't change the facts. Race had the chance to pull the trigger. But the target was still outside their room. He was breathing. He was living. So Race was still good. He was still his baby brother and he still had an ounce of innocence left.

Crutchie shook his head. He forgot about Race's actions for a moment while he glanced back and forth between the other two boys. They were all he had. They were his family. And they were hurting. "What are we gonna do, Jack?" It was a question that would inevitably have come up no matter what. What the hell were they supposed to do?

Race felt tears stinging at his eyes when Crutchie asked that. They couldn't. He knew they couldn't do anything. And he didn't want to hear the bull that was about to come out of Jack's mouth. "Don't, Kelly..." he pleaded as Jack tried to speak. "Just... just don't. Ya can't hardly move... people are gonna be askin' questions..." Race felt himself beginning to shake at the thought. Questions. Nothing good ever came from questions.

Jack sniffled. He did his best to wipe away his tears by rubbing his face against the sheets. His whole body was in pain. His brothers were right. He could hardly move. But that wasn't gonna stop him from trying. It wasn't gonna stop him from attempting to do anything to comfort the two people in his life that he loved more than everything in the world. "Whateva' we do, we do it togetha', yeah?" Jack did his best to smile through the blood and bruises covering his face. He squeezed Crutchie's hand again.

Race wiped at his eyes. He gently set the cloth down in the bowl. He couldn't do anything else but lean down to his big brother and press a gentle kiss behind the older boy's ear, watching Jack relax at the show of affection. "I love you, Jack..." he whispered, praying to God that his brothers still loved him too, ignoring the fact that he was so stupid.

Jack smiled. "I love you, Race... so much..." Then he looked up at Crutchie. Even in the dimmed room, Crutchie was clearly crying. But Jack still gave him a pathetic grin and rubbed his thumbs over the boy's soft palms. "And I love you, Crutchie... we can do this. Everything's gonna be okay."

If only things had been that simple.

The next morning was practically torturous. Three broken boys lay on their bed in their room that was lightly being lit up by the cold, distant, rising sun. Race was on one side of the bed. He lay on his back and he was lightly snoring. He was a mess, still in his clothes and shoes with blood stuck to his hands. There was an arm stretched out over his chest. It pinned him in a comfortable embrace and belonged to the older boy laying on his stomach right next to him.

Jack was as cleaned up as he could be. The blood on his face and body had been removed and all that was left were bruises, scars and a bandage that wrapped around his torso, hiding his torn up back and the horrors of what had been there before. His breath hitched every few moments as the pain caught him, even in his dreams. He'd been in the same position all night, the thought of moving not only scaring him, but scaring his brothers as well.

Crutchie lay next to his big brother. His body was practically curled around Jack's. He was hesitant to touch him too much, not wanting to hurt him any further. But he couldn't help but stay as close to him as he could. His chin was practically in Jack's hair, but neither boy minded.

Jack groaned when he awoke. Everything hurt. He was sore in places he wasn't even aware he'd been hit. But he had to get up. It was the second day of school. Jack didn't want to think about what might happen if they were late. So he gently shook his brother who lay underneath his arm, attempting to wake the boy who deserved so much more sleep for everything he'd done the night before.

Race groaned. His whole body ached of exhaustion. He wished for just a few more moments of sleep. A few more moments of a peaceful, precious world where everything was okay. But then his mind start grabbing ahold of last night's events. "... Kelly...?" He fought his eyes open. Everything came in a blur and he realized just how much his head hurt from the lack of sleep he'd gotten. But he didn't care. He could see Jack smiling at him. Those green eyes were looking over at him with so much love and Race found it hard to want to look away.

Jack let his hand move up to Race's cheek. "Mornin', kid..." His voice was still rough. A mixture of screams and exhaustion clear in it. But he smiled at his kid brother anyways, despite the way he felt. Despite the way he could feel his whole body shaking and the sweat that was forming on his forehead.

"Jack...?" Crutchie sounded so tired. Not only that, though. He sounded even a little scared. Jack turned his head to see Crutchie struggling to wake up. "Mmm... Jack?"

"I'm here, kid... we're okay... it's all okay..." If only Jack had believed it. If only they'd been able to fake it better.

To say David was worried was the understatement of the year. He walked with his new friends and his kid brother to school, much like the day before. But he couldn't forget the things he'd heard last night. The screams, the sobs, the panic. He held onto Les's hand so tight as they walked through the streets of Manhattan.

Davey saw the way Jack had his arm around Race. He could clearly see the way Crutchie was clutching onto Jack's wrist as they went. It was more than just a need for touch and affection. Jack was leaning into Race. Race was supporting his weight more than he should've been. And Crutchie... the poor crippled kid was terrified to let go of his brother. He was so scared that Jack might fall over.

Davey was glad Les didn't seem to notice the pain. The ball fo energy simply continued to be his innocent, bouncy self as they walked. He was ready for the day that stood before him. David himself wasn't so sure. After about a week of knowing these brothers, the tall brunette could see the signs of abuse. He could see all flinches, all the ways they'd tense at the noises they didn't expect. He could see that they were scared to leave each other, fearing that if they left each other for too long they'd find that they missed the moment that they'd needed to protect each other. And it hurt Davey's heart.

After they sent Les off with his friends, the four high schoolers cautiously walked to their lockers. Davey watched Jack fiddle around with books and notebooks. There weren't many of them. Only barely enough to get by. His face was shoved into his locker as he tried to hide from the kid who had only wanted to be his friend. Race leaned against the wall to his brother's left. He was clutching and playing with the strap across his chest that connected to his satchel. He didn't dare put anything in his locker. Davey didn't quite understand it, but he didn't question it either. The blond boy was stealing worried glances as Jack hissed at his every move. It scared David.

Crutchie was trying to hide the fact that he was a complete wreck. He was shaking. But Davey could tell that it wasn't the same way Jack was. Jack was shaking as if he was sick. In fact, now that Davey thought about it, Jack looked more feverish than anything. Crutchie didn't look like that. It looked like he was on the brink of a full fledged breakdown. And he stood in front of Race, though neither of them seemed to be speaking.

He'd been pretending. He'd been trying so hard to pretend he didn't see Jack's swollen nose and lip, or his cut temple, or the bruises at his neck. He feared what else the boy had to be hiding under his sweatshirt. But Jack had walls. Impossible walls. Davey was sure he'd never get through them. But he had to try.

"Jack, drop the act." Jack tensed and froze in his movements. His brothers noticed. They shut up too. And Davey wasn't ready for Jack to whirl around and point a finger right at his chest.

"Stay outta this, Dave!" It was a hard whisper. Not a threat. A warning.

"Stay out of it?!" Davey shot back, angrily. "Do you have any idea what was going through my head last night?! I didn't know what was going on and I couldn't stop it, Jack!"

Crutchie felt his breath hitch. No one had ever had this argument with Jack. Ever. And Jack was hurt. His emotions were running high. And while Crutchie knew that Jack never would lay a hand on him or Race, Davey was a different story. If Jack thought that David could get them in trouble with the police and Social Services in his exhausted, sick state, he would do all he thought he could do to protect his family. And it scared the boy.

"I ain't gonna tell you again, Davey. Stay. Out. Of. It."

Race felt panic shoot through him. Jack's voice was low and scary and he didn't like it. His blue eyes were so wide as they darted back and forth between the two older kids that were standing very close to each other all of the sudden. Close enough for one to grab the other and throw them to the ground.

"You call the cops, or I will."

Jack's heart stopped. Then it started again, only to be beating harder and faster than Jack ever thought possible. And Jack wasn't able to stop himself. He pushed his friend, hard. The taller boy was barely able to keep up right. He was hardly able to recover before Jack was in his face again, even as Race made a grab for him and as Crutchie quietly called out in protest.

"If you call the cops, you know damn well what'll happen!" Davey could see his friend's face beginning to turn red. His whole body was still shaking, yet he had the strength of what seemed to be ten men. "Snyda's dirty and he's got connections everywhere! He will take them from me, any way he can!"

David shook his head. "You're hurt! They're hurt!" He didn't understand. He was only trying to help. Clearly, Jack wasn't too keen on the idea. "If ya don't call the cops, one of ya will end up in the morgue!"

Race's breath hitched. He felt Crutchie grabbing at his wrist and he let the boy hold it. Even in the midst of a fight, barely anyone was stopping to take them any notice. Most kids were too busy in their own world. Heads were shoved into books and tablets and ears were plugged with music turned up so loud the blond boy wasn't sure they wouldn't go deaf. Race was glad for it. If Jack was caught by someone with the look he had on his face...

"This ain't none of your business!" Jack was furious. His mind couldn't even begin to form proper thoughts as panic and anxiousness filled him up. "You betta' stay the hell out of it before-" Jack stopped. He bit his lip and growled, not knowing if he could even finish that sentence.

"Before what, Jack?" David demanded, his hands on his hips as he glared at his neighbor. "Are you threatening me?"

Jack felt Race's hand encircle his arm, trying to hold him back from doing something stupid. He didn't want to scare his kids. He didn't want to make a scene. So he took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to regain control he wasn't sure he'd had in the first place. "I ain't... but the Spida'..." Jack let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. "Ya wanna know why your apartment's always empty?" He watched David shrug, not fully understanding. "He paid 'em off. Or he blackmailed 'em. Or he got 'em kicked out. They heard too much. And they wanted ta help. He ruined lives, Dave!"

David saw the truth behind it. He saw the way Race looked down at the ground and the way Crutchie held back tears. He knew there was no lie in those words. So he shut his mouth. "If he thinks you's'll cross him?" Jack shook his head. "He will crush you and everythin' you love." The words struck Davey harder than he'd anticipated. He could feel the fear that now resided in his chest. "Don't try and help."

Davey's eyes stayed steadily on Jack's, like he was looking for something. Possibly fear. He knew it must be there somewhere. The boy was terrified. And Davey knew he had to do something, though just what was a mystery. But he left it alone for now, not wanting to scare the two younger kids by saying something else. He didn't even have a chance as the bell rang and Jack was walking off, his brothers next to him.

Davey was staring at him. Jack knew he was. He had been ever since class had started. Though, he knew every time he took a glance the other boy's way, he'd hide it. He'd pretend to be enthralled by the book he had on his desk. Jack shook his head as he attempted to catch him for the fourth time. In the almost complete silence of the morning class, he bit back a frustrated groan.

Jack sighed. He took a glance over to that girl. The girl who he'd been to distracted to think about before that moment. Damn, she was beautiful. The boy wondered where she hid her wings.

He wondered if she'd still want to speak to him after she knew him. A street rat. A gutter rat. A foster kid carrying his two broken brothers through life, only trying to get by. He wondered if she'd still smile at him the way she had the day before when she found out he didn't barley have a dollar to his name. He wondered if she'd laugh when she found out that he was falling. He was falling so hard. But he couldn't think about that right now. Not with the threats hanging over his head. Not when everything he'd worked so hard to protect could be ripped away so soon and suddenly. Just like that day...

"Jack!"

"Kelly!"

"Momma!"

The boy felt sick. He closed his eyes, willing it all to just go away. He begged the universe to just give him a break. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't go through that again.

His sketches were being made without thought. His pencil moved across a once blank paper that he'd taken out while their teacher was grading tests. No one paid it any mind. He finally allowed his eyes to fully focus on it and found that he'd drawn out an entire landscape. It was a beautiful place. Peaceful. Somewhere he could be free. "Santa Fe..."

He ran his hand over the scratch paper. It was so out of reach. It made his heart ache. He wished for nothing more than to scoop up his baby brothers and take them there. Take them away from the anger and the carelessness. But he couldn't.

Davey's head shot up when he heard the sound of paper being crumbled up. He just barely saw Jack lift up his hand and chuck the thing at the trash can. Then he saw his friend's head fall into his hands. He sighed, knowing there wasn't much he could do to help.

Katherine bite her cheek. She couldn't help but glance over at the new boy in her class. She couldn't help the worry that built up in her when she saw the bead of sweat trickling over his forehead. She couldn't help but let her mind run wild when she saw his flushed cheeks and his shaky hands as he threw away whatever paper he'd been doodling on across the room. She could see the markings of a fight on his face. She willed the bell to ring. Jack looked so sick and so hurt. He looked to have some sort of fever. It scared her. So when the bell rang, all she could do was follow him out of the room.

"So, Higgins, are all of ya so stupid ya can't read? Or are you just the special one?" Race hunched over on himself, praying he'd disappear. His arms were around his stomach in a sad attempt to hide. It wasn't working. "What's the matta', idiot? Do ya miss mamma? Oh wait... you don't have one do ya?" That one hurt. Race hurt. "Did she leave ya? I don't blame her." He tried to close his eyes. He tried to remove himself from the world for a moment. And then he heard those glorious chimes.

Race ignored the glance he got from his teacher as the bell rang. It was full of something the boy couldn't quite place. So he let his mind run wild and came up with an answer. It was pity with a hint of disappointment to top it off. It had to be. If adults weren't angry with him, that was the only way they could look at him. He ducked his head low and threw on the hood of his sweatshirt, doing his best to hide from so many things. The bully behind him was at the top of his list.

"Where ya runnin' off to, newbie?"

Race didn't respond. He picked up the pace when he heard a laugh. It sent chills down his spin. He knew how these things went. It started out with a few irritating habits. They'd throw insults at him and constantly try to get under his skin. Then it would escalate. It would turn into harassment. Beatings. It would turn into humiliation. Race knew it would. And he just wanted to get away.

"Don't go so soon, Higgins! I'm just getting started with ya."

Race didn't stop. Only kept on his path to his brothers, trying to blink back the tears that poked at his eyes. "Get to Jack... don't look back... just get ta Jack..." he muttered to himself. If he hadn't, he was sure he would've done something he'd regret.

Jack smirked at Katherine as she leaned against the lockers next to his. Damn, was she an angel. Her smile made the pain go away, even if only for a moment. "Hello, Mr. Kelly. Feelin' alright?"

Jack exchanged books from his locker and stole a flirtatious glance at the girl. "Just caught somethin'. Must be goin' around. My little brotha' was sick a week ago too." Jack was a natural con. He wondered if he could ever take up a job as an actor. No one could tell his lies from the truth.

"Well, maybe you should go lay down in the nurse's office?" Davey tried, from his locker only a few inches away from Jack's.

Jack shook his head. "I's fine, Dave. Really... I just didn't get too much sleep last night."

"That's an understatement." Jack immediately felt his whole body relax as Crutchie's voice met his ears. He let himself smile as the boy limped up to him and he wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders. "You's was up all night!" Crutchie scolded, lightly. Then he glanced over at Katherine with a smile, equally as charming as Jack's. "Jackie-boy ain't slept in years."

"Thanks, Crutchie." Jack rolled his eyes and ruffled the boy's hair and melted at the way the kid smiled and leaned into him, no matter how careful he might be while touching him.

Katherine smiled. But before she could say anything, a voice rang out through the hallway.

"Don't walk away from me, punk!"

Jack's head whirled around at the vaguely familiar voice and he had to lean way too much on his crippled brother as a dizziness washed over him. Luckily, Crutchie could feel the extra weight and held him up like it was natural to have him hanging on him like that.

Race was walking to them. His eyes were at the ground and his whole head was covered by his hood. His bright blue eyes were scared and annoyed and hurt. It killed Jack to see him like that. And the boy that followed behind him... Oscar... Jack wanted to do something. But he didn't know how much he could risk. He didn't know if he could even put up much of a fight.

Race could see Jack. He didn't know that kid would follow him so far. He wanted to start throwing punches but... last night played over in his head in a matter of seconds. The screams played over in his head again and again and his heart ached. He couldn't risk it again. But this boy wouldn't quit. "I'll show ya what happens ta kids who go on ignorin' me, freak!" That was when Race turned around. It was abrupt and it was full of anger. He shoved the bully backwards and watched as the other boy stumbled. He hadn't realized that he'd caught the attention of those around him.

Jack watched Race start a fight. It didn't seem like an unnatural occurrence for the boy. At first he didn't move, simply letting Race try and walk away. But when Oscar pushed his baby brother...

Race had tried to walk away after the shock had worn off from what he'd done. Luckily, all he did was give the guy a little shove. Nothing he couldn't recover from, what he didn't expect was the shove he got in return. But it didn't end there. As he steadied himself from the unexpected push, a hand grabbed the front of his shirt. He struggled a bit, grabbing at the wrist that held him as panic caught up with him. Not again... And then a fist collided with his jaw, sending him to the ground.

"Jack, don't-" Crutchie's warning was cut short as the older boy pushed away from him and another insult was thrown. Not at Race this time.

"Shut your mouth, ya stupid crip!" At him.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Jack's fury caused him to forget the pain all together. He stood up straight, shielding his brothers from all harm. Oscar scoffed about to speak, but Jack beat him to the punch... quite literally. Square in the nose. And after that, Jack couldn't stop. No one could talk to his brothers like that. No one.

Davey gasped as the fight broke out and Katherine ran to Race's side, attempting to help him up, not expecting the flinch she got in return. Her hands flew up in a universal sign of peace and her eyes found Jack again. He was throwing punches and dodging them. He was a good fighter. She could tell. It was as if he'd done this before. Not just once or twice, either. But then there was the shove he hadn't seen coming and his entire back was shoved into a wall of lockers.

Jack let out a choked word of hurt through clenched teeth. The pain was blinding and excruciating. He tried to breathe. He closed his eyes as black spots filled his vision. It all hurt so much. As a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him, he couldn't help but double over and give into it, letting anything and everything that had been in his stomach spill out onto the ground. It was mostly water. But the bits of food were gone too. And Jack couldn't help but collapse next to the things that used to fill him up.

Race cried out for his big brother as he fell. Crutchie did too. Race was over in an instant, barely catching Jack before he hit the ground. "Kelly?!"

Crutchie let Race lay Jack down on his stomach. "Jack?" He shook Jack's shoulders in a panic. But the older boy lay still, completely comatose.

"Kelly, wake up! C'mon!" Race was panicking. It was clear to anyone and everyone. Katherine knew better than to try and touch him again. He was clearly in no state to have any type of help. But, she couldn't help but drop down next to Crutchie, a comforting hand on his shoulder. She couldn't find it in herself to recoil when he flinched, however, because right after that, he relaxed at her touch and went back to try and get his big brother to wake up.

Davey held himself still when Oscar retreated. If he was caught, he'd surely be suspended. The tall boy knew what he was doing, too. He was coming up with a story. A lie. A way to get out of the trouble he'd caused himself and so many others around him. But it didn't matter. Because when Davey looked down at his unconscious friend, he saw something that was far more urgent. "Oh my God..."

Crutchie saw the blood too. It barely seeped through his brother's shirt. But it was there. Meaning it had soaked through the bandage too. It was oozing through the bottom of Jack's back and Crutchie winced when he saw it. "Race..."

Race did not look up. He was too busy shaking and trying to hold back sobs. They were done for. He knew that much. If it wasn't Snyder who had them, it would be Social Services. He couldn't do it again. Not again. He couldn't lose them. "Jack, please..."

"I'm gonna go get the nurse-" Katherine hardly finished that sentence before she was cut off. And suddenly, she was painfully aware of the crowd that had formed around them. No teachers yet. But it couldn't be long. In fact, she could see kids darting down the hall, screaming something she couldn't quite make out. And she knew whose room they were headed for.

"No!" Crutchie didn't know what to do. He could only grab Katherine's wrist as she attempted to stand. "Don't! Please don't!"

Katherine shook her head. "Crutchie, he's bleeding! And he looks so sick!"

Crutchie grabbed both of her wrists in his hands and held them tighter than anyone would've expected his grip to be. "Katherine. Please. Don't." His green eyes were pleading with her. They were so scared and desperate and it broke Katherine's heart. So she stayed put, feeling everything in her protest.

Crutchie thought it was fine. Safe for just another moment. That is, until a shadow was over them. Over Jack.

Race was frantic. He was leaned over, his lips close to Jack's ear as he begged him to wake up. "Kelly, cmon!" It was no use. His brother was out cold. And then he saw hands trying to grab at Jack. All he could do was react. He pushed himself up on his knees and shoved away the arms that were any where near the boy on the ground. "Get off of him!" For a moment, he couldn't see straight. For a moment, dark eyes were staring at him with so much hatred and bias against him. For a moment, he saw a cruel demeanor and two clenched fists, not prepared for a fight. Prepared for a beating. For a moment, he saw the damn Spider. And then it vanished when he blinked.

"It's alright, Anthony..." The teacher. His teacher. The one who'd figured out one of his most embarrassing secrets within a matter of minutes. "Calm down, kid..." But Race couldn't. He couldn't breathe. He was gasping so hard, his body was moving with every one he took.

"Mr. Kloppman..." Race didn't know what to say. He wanted to come up with something. Anything. A solid lie that people would be daft to even question. But his lips wouldn't move.

"It's alright, kid. Breathe. He's gonna he just fine..."

Crutchie wanted to scream. Jack was down. He was out cold and not there to comfort them and make them feel better in a moment of crisis. And now, a man was hovering over Race. His big brother hated being near men. Crutchie knew that better than anyone. So it was only natural for him to panic as he saw Race's unveiled fear.

"Jack..." Race breathed, and Kloppman saw the desperation in his student's eyes. He saw the way the boy had to be touching the body on the ground. It broke his heart to see such a young kid so scared and helpless.

"I called an ambulance. Should be here soon."

Race bit his lip. He wasn't sure he wouldn't draw blood. His blue eyes locked with Crutchie's and they both let silent tears stream down their faces. Then Race's head dropped back down and his lips were right next to Jack's ear again.

"I'm so sorry, Jack..."

Chapter Text

Crutchie watched the world rush by. It seemed to be moving too quickly for anyone but him. For him, time dragged on. For him the world might as well be frozen in place. Everything was silent. The boy was vaguely aware of strong arms around him. He could feel the steady beat of a heart against his head and he knew he was tucked in tightly to someone's chest.

The entire world was white. Everything was blinding and painfully white. It was meant to symbolize clean. It was meant to bring light to the dark universe around them. All it did was make the kid feel sick. All it did was remind him where he was and why he was there.

The boy was sure it had been hours. Having not looked up at the clock that ticked on in the silence once from the moment they got there, he had no proof. But he knew it had been far too long since they'd arrived. Far too long sitting without a sound or a voice reassuring him. All he had was the arms around him and the head that rested on top of his own. Occasionally, he would feel a loving kiss on the top of his hair. He wasn't sure who it was meant to reassure. But all he could do was melt underneath it.

Crutchie didn't dare move from the hold he was in. His knees were pulled up tightly to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He sat in a ball underneath his brother who held him tightly, protecting him from everyone else around them. And there were so many people around them.

There was a girl that Jack had introduced him to. Katherine, Crutchie reminded himself. If Jack had told him her name, it was worth remembering. She was pacing back and forth in the middle of the closed waiting room. It was making the boy nervous. He squirmed a bit, feeling the embrace around him tighten, attempting to make him feel safer. Then there was Davey. He seemed to be everywhere lately. He was always hanging around. It wasn't something any of them were used to. And he brought that kid with him, too. His little brother.

Crutchie sniffled and leaned further into the safe, strong arms around him when he looked around at the others he'd been trying to forget were in the room. Race's teacher was sitting beside them. Beside Race. The boy with the crutch could feel his big brother tense every few moments when the man would move. He'd heard the older boy's terrified whimper before they'd come for Jack. Kloppman. That was his name. The one that was onto Race and his secrets. The one who probably had noticed the bruise that was almost completely faded on the boy's cheek. And the ones still clearly around his pale neck, not so well hidden anymore underneath an old sweatshirt.

Then, sitting right next to Crutchie, the man that had made it all happen. The boy could feel the hand on his shoulder. And he remembered why he was trying to detach himself from the white, slow world around him.

It was a sick act. One that they boys must have come much to accustom to. Crutchie pushed himself further into Race's chest with a small choked sob, momentarily breaking the tense silence of the room. His older brother wrapped his arms around him tighter, bravely and casually brushing off their guardians hand, kept there to portray an image of worry and concern. Crutchie wasn't able to see the man chance a glare at Race. But he could practically feel the fire shooting from his evil eyes. Then he felt Race bury his face in his hair. He could feel the shaky breaths coming out of the older boy's nose, softly rattling his soft blond hair.

"I've got ya, kid..." The whisper was like the wind. It was barely heard. But Crutchie nodded into his brother's chest and allowed the tears to silently travel down his innocent face.

"I just want him ta be okay..." Another kiss was ghosted across his head before the familiar weight returned, meaning Race had rest there again. But he still felt incomplete under the familiar weight. Something was missing and only one person could account for it.

The door opened so quietly and neither boy was brave enough to look up. But someone was running into the room followed by another person. Both of them dropped down right in front of the two terrified brothers and they made them both relax, immensely.

"Medda!"

"May!"

Miss Medda was in tears. She brought a shaky hand up to Crutchie's cheek and the brother's protective embrace loosened just slightly. Enough for Crutchie to lean into the hand and let them wipe the tears away. And May had stood up, worriedly checking over every visible inch of Race as the boy began to cry even more. It was as if May knew that Jack must've gotten into a fight protecting him. To get him out of something. And he was right.

"What happened, boys?" The man's voice was breathy and tired, like he'd been running. "Snyder told me about the call your teacher gave him, but I had to wait until work got off. I'm so sorry, guys. I came as fast as I could-"

He was cut off by something that shocked everyone in that room. Race had stood up, knowing Crutchie was in Medda's care, the woman having had taken him into his arms and gently sweeping him away from Snyder with a quick glare that no one seemed to catch. Everyone froze when they watched the boy throw his arms around the man. Kloppman had to bite his lip to keep his mouth from dropping open. May didn't even flinch. He looked as if he was used to the contact from the kid.

Crutchie watched from Medda's arms as his brother sobbed onto the man. It was a rare sight indeed. May just held him tight and ran hands through his hair for a moment until Race pulled away, frantically wiping at his tears. Everyone was staring with shock clear on their features. And he didn't like it. Crutchie knew that well enough. His brother scowled at every one of them before May pushed him down into a chair on the opposite side of Kloppman, rather than the one that Crutchie now occupied with Medda sitting in his old seat as well.

Race sat silently as May brushed away his tears. He checked him over again and Race only sniffled, trying to stop the tears as his face became blank. May didn't try and talk to him. He only kneeled down in front of him, caring for him like he was his own child, and occasionally stealing a glance over at Crutchie, who was sobbing in Medda's embrace.

"What happened, babies?" Her voice was soft and worried. She was terrified.

Crutchie sniffled before more tears started falling. "W-we... we was at school... an-an'..." The boy tried desperately to steady his voice. It wasn't working. "Someone pushed 'im... h-he just passed out..." Crutchie lost it. The moment played over and over again in his head. It hurt. He sobbed fully onto Medda's shoulder and allowed Kloppman to take over.

"Mr. Kelly collapsed with a fever," he explained, calmly, hearing Race sniffle behind him as he turned to face the woman. "Some students came to get me when they saw it happen because I was one of the closest teachers who had any medical experience." Medda nodded, urging him to continue. "I got there and he was bleeding. So I lifted up his shirt and found that someone had already tried to wrap him up. It looked like he'd been whipped pretty badly."

Katherine winced when she's heard it again. She'd been there. She'd seen the wounds. But when said out loud, it made her heart drop. She may be young, but she was not stupid. The flinching, the terrified looks, the way they had to hold each other. It all pointed to a word that Katherine hated to think about. And her eyes wandered to the man that a woman was now shielding Crutchie from. The one that Race had been desperate to shield him from as well.

Abuse. It was all she could think. Plain and simple. But she knew she couldn't just say anything. She needed the story first. The girl didn't like jumping to conclusions. But she couldn't keep her mind from going back to every move these boys had made since she'd met them. Every word, every single thing they did pointed right to it. And she wasn't about to let them alone anytime soon. Oh no. She would figure this out. She hadto figure this out.

"Race, will ya please breathe?" Davey's voice sounded odd. His throat was tight as if he was holding back. He was. He was biting at his lip and his cheek in attempts to not let it slip out of his mouth. The screams and the loud bangs echoed in his mind and he flinched again at the thought. But if Jack wasn't here to get Race to take a proper breath, he'd be damned if he didn't.

May looked down at the boy who in fact was barely breathing, trying to hold back his sobs. "Bud..." he curled his finger under the kid's chin, only for him to turn away and try to blink away tears. "Hey, kid... what happened? Did you try and take care of it yourself?"

Race didn't answer. He just wrapped his arms around his waist and collapsed on himself, sobbing along with his brother, May's hands on his knees. "What happened, Higgins? Talk to me."

"I..." Race looked around the room. His eyes locked with Crutchie who was terrified. Then he looked at Medda who gave him a teary look. She didn't know what to say and Race didn't blame her. They'd put up this charade for too long. But when he saw Snyder he completely broke. "I'm so sorry! I-I tried ta tell him we should call someone but he said no!"

The chief rubbed away the tears streaming down the boy's face. "What happened, Race?"

"He was mugged." Crutchie didn't move as he said it. He just closed his eyes and leaned into Medda as he did. "He knew someone was followin' us and he told us ta run. So Race forced me on his back and we took off. Jack... Jack could barely walk when he came home..."

Race's blue eyes were wide. His kid brother had taken too many lessons from his older one, he decided. A boy who once used to be so innocently honest could now lie like nothing and ease his way through the complete tale he'd told them. "I-I patched him up best I could..." Race said, his eyes on Crutchie till the end of the sentence when he turned back to May. "But he didn't want no one ta know..."

May sighed and looked to Snyder, giving him a look that clearly asked him how he didn't know about this. The other man only shrugged.

"Is Jack gonna be okay?" That voice was so young and innocent. And Davey sighed when he heard it, holding his brother closer.

"Of course he is, Les. He's tough. He'll be fine." He looked around. Those words were not only meant to assure the boy in his lap, but to attempt to calm the whole room down. For a moment, it worked. Everyone seemed to slow down and breathe. Katherine stopped pacing for a moment and Kloppman stopped the tapping against his thigh. Even the two brothers' sobs seemed to slow a bit. And then the door opened.

"Jack Kelly?"

Katherine stepped back as one of the men- Snyder- stood up tall and walked up to the young woman who looked more than exhausted. "I'm his guardian." She looked back at the two boys who her friend had introduced as his brothers. They both sat up and looked at the nurse, wide-eyed, hoping to hear some good news.

"He's stable." Race felt relieved tears leaving his eyes at those words. His brother was okay. It would all be okay. "He was having trouble breathing at one point and we thought he might stop altogether." Race moved his hands up to his hair. At the time, he didn't know why May grabbed them. Tremors were running through them unlike anything he'd experienced before. Jack almost died. So he let the chief hold his hands in his own and he let the tears freely fall down his face. "Other than that, everything went smoothly."

Crutchie let out a shaky breath. He glanced over at Race who was trying to get ahold of himself. But he was okay. Jack was okay. So he could breath. "His fever was not caused by an infection. It must've been exhaustion and stress. But he's fine. And awake." Crutchie felt Medda squeeze him tighter for a moment and he sniffled. Just as he might've said something, the nurse continued. "He's been asking for his brothers."

Race let out a humorless laugh before he was standing, not caring that he was ripping his hands away from May or stumbling to the door. But a hand caught his wrist and he turned to be met with dark, cold eyes.

"Wait a minute," Snyder began, clearly trying to keep the two boys from leaving. But why, not many people knew. "I'm his guardian. Shouldn't I be going in first?"

Kloppman watched as his student tensed in the grip. He saw the boy tug at it, trying to get free. He saw the panicked tears in the kid's eyes as he looked over to his little brother who was completely frozen in place. And he didn't buy their story. Not one bit.

Race frantically looked around as the man pulled him back to him. He saw Crutchie sit up and grab his crutch and he looked around for anyone to get him out of the hold he was now in. The man held him in a way that might look affectionate to the outside world. But all Race could tell was that there was an arm around his throat. And he couldn't move. His eyes traveled around the room and caught Davey's.

Davey could see the fear and helplessness all trapped inside a little boy who didn't deserve it. He gave the kid a sorry look before his eyes shot up to Katherine who was staring at the scene with such a look of understanding and anger that David wasn't sure she wouldn't blab out every thought running through her head in that moment.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse responded. "He practically demanded I don't let anyone in there until he can see his brothers."

Crutchie stood and limped over to his brother, carefully tugging him out of the man's careless embrace. He felt the older boy shaking when he placed an arm around his shoulders and gently hung on him. Something that reminded them both of the boy they so desperately wanted to see right at that moment.

"I don't get a say in my own son's-" Race flinched at the use of the word. He didn't even notice until Crutchie looked up at him with a sad look in his eyes and then the blue eyed boy glanced around and hoped to God no one had seen it. And then his eyes landed on the girl by the door. It was at that moment he knew he'd been caught. He knew they'd been caught. Because after the entire display of the past few days, she would have to be an idiot not to have figured it out. And if Jack liked her enough to continue to speak to her, she was no idiot.

"Snyder, sit down. Let them see him. You'll get to be in there soon enough." May stood and gently guided the guardian back to a chair.

Crutchie couldn't explain how much he wished they could shut that man out of the room for good. He wrapped an arm around his brother's waist when he could feel the other boy begin to shake even more, a mix of terror and anger filling him up too much to handle. "I gotcha, Race... we's okay..." Race only tensed more. "Please, Race... you ain't Spot... please don't lash out..."

Race blinked at the quiet pleas. His body started to relax. He tried desperately to stay in one place. If his brother was begging him not to lash out, he needed to stay put. So he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the younger boy's hairline.

"Tell him we'll see him in a little bit." Crutchie barely nodded at Medda's words before he was forcing Race to follow the nurse out the room.

The brothers walked in silence. Though they weren't going a far distance, it seemed like years before they made it to their brother's room. The nurse stopped them outside of it. And Race felt himself hug his brother closer on instinct. "Don't be too loud, please. He's gonna be a little out of it. We had to put him on some pain medication." With that, the nurse pushed the door open.

Crutchie gave Race a look and Race pressed one more kiss to his head before his grip loosened and he gently pushed his baby brother into the room. Then he slowly followed the kid as he limped over to the bed on the far side of the room, passing another sleeping patient in the room. There was no way that their brother would be put in a private room. But they both continued to walk to the window on the very other end of the room. That was when they saw him.

Jack was laying on his side. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. To anyone who didn't know him, they'd assume he was asleep. To his brothers, he was shutting out the world as to not fall deeply into a panic because he was in a room, without anyone he knew or trusted beside him. He was trying to forget where he was and why he was there. So Crutchie carefully sat down on the bed next to the older boy and ran a hand through his hair. And those forest green eyes opened up real slow. Crutchie felt like he could breathe again.

"Jack..."

Race dropped down into the chair next to the bed. His legs were shaking too much to continue supporting him. He sat silently, watching Crutchie grab at their brother's hand before he began pressing soft kisses to the seventeen-year-olds head.

"Hi fellas..." Jack's voice was rough and tired. But he gave his baby brother's hand a squeeze allowed his lips to curl into a sad smile.

Crutchie sniffled. "That's all you's got ta say for yourself, Jack?" He wiped at his eyes, wildly with his free hand. "You scared the hell outta us!"

Jack's small smile vanished. He was silent for a moment. He held his brother's hand tightly. It was all he could do. "I's so sorry, boys..." his voice broke and long awaited tears fell down his cheeks. "I thought I could make it through the day..."

Race gave out a bitter laugh. He felt an immediate wave of guilt hit him as Jack's eyes found his blue ones. "You thought you could make it, like that?" The younger boy shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Why do have ta be such an idiot, Jack?" His voice shook with so much emotion.

In that moment, Jack could see the ocean in Race's bright blue eyes. They were filled to the brim with so many tears it was no wonder why they were suddenly falling down the kid's pale cheeks. "Racer-"

"You can't keep protectin' me like this!" Race all but screamed. He wanted to. He wanted to scream and yell and punch something because there were so many emotions built up in him that he couldn't even begin to understand or deal with. "I know this ain't the first time ya had ta come ta the hospital. Hell, even me an' Crutchie have to sometimes. But you coulda died, Jack!" Those words broke him. After that he was a completely sobbing mess who couldn't form a sentence anymore.

"I would do it again, Race."

"Why?!"

"Because I can't watch it any more!" Jack admitted finally, hissing as he moved only slightly. And Crutchie held him in place. "I can't, Racer... I can't watch you two get hurt. Not when I can stop it."

Race shook his head. "But I can't lose you, Kelly..."

Crutchie leaned over to wrap his big brother up in a hug, seeing as Jack clearly couldn't. Race sobbed onto his shoulder. "It's my fault! I'm so sorry..."

Jack watched for a moment, his heart breaking as he longed to wrap both of his kids up in his arms and just let them cry. "Hey!" he called, not caring that his voice broke. "This is not your fault, kid." Race peeked up at him and stood up, Crutchie's arms still wrapped around him.

Crutchie grabbed onto his brother's hair as he stood tall. Then he felt Race's tight grip begin to loosen and he reluctantly let go. "Stop blamin' yourself fer everythin'..." the smallest boy tried. "Why can't we just blame Snyda' and be done with it."

Race sniffled and leaned down to press a kiss to Jack's forehead. "This wouldn't a' happened if I's wasn't illiterate... and I didn't almost start a fight in the middle a' class..."

"This wouldn't a' happened if the Spider wasn't an asshole. This wouldn't a' happened if Snyder didn't do it. This ain't your fault." It was clear in the boy's eyes that he didn't believe it, but Jack just kept talking. "I'm okay. This ain't your fault. None of it."

Race didn't respond. Only grabbed onto Jack's hand, trying to reassure himself that it was all really okay. "What is someone starts asking questions?"

Those words struck fear into every boy's heart. Questions. They didn't like them, that was clear enough. No one answered. And all the boys could do was sit in agonizing silence as they held onto each other for dear life.

David wasn't sure what to expect when the only girl in the room ordered him to speak with her out in the hallway. But he carefully set his brother down on the chair next to him and gave a wary look over to the man called Snyder before he walked out, trusting that his brother was safe with everyone else in that room. And he walked out into the hall to find Katherine pacing back and forth again. She hadn't stood still in hours.

"Katherine," he greeted, plainly. He leaned on the wall waiting for her to reply.

"David." She looked nervous. Davey seemed to know the look she had on her face all too well. And it made him nervous too. "How well do you know them?"

David shrugged. "Well enough. What's it to ya?"

She stopped, turning to him with a new wave of fresh determination in her eyes. "I've got questions. And you've got answers, I know it." Davey stuttered for a moment, before she continued. "Those boys are in trouble and I'm not letting you leave until I know what's going on." Her eyes practically bore into him in a desperate sort of way. She had to figure this out, else it would drive her absolutely mad. "Spill."

Chapter Text

May paced back and forth in the waiting room. Being the detective he was, he tried and tried to place together every piece of the puzzle. No doubt in his mind that the boys weren't telling him the truth. Not when Race's eyes went wide like they had as Crutchie began to speak. As Crutchie began to lie. But why? That was the question. Why would they be lying to him of all people?

"You're gonna carve a whole in the floor if ya keep pacin' like that," a calm voice laughed. One that had a slight strain in it. One that he recognized instantly as one Miss Medda Larkin. He could see it in her eyes that she knew something he didn't. He prayed it wasn't what he had to assume it was. He couldn't have been overlooking that. He couldn't have been so cruel to those boys. No way. He would've known... right?

The chief of police shook his head and collapsed in the chair next to the theatre woman. "What the hell did that boy do to land himself in here... like this?" His own hand carded through his thick brown hair and thought hard, recalling practically every encounter and every conversation he'd had with those kids...

They were so young. That was what he first noticed that night. In his head detective's apartment. So small and fragile and clinging to each other without letting their guardian know how vulnerable they truly felt. How absolutely terrified they were. They sat on the couch. The biggest of them in the center. His green eyes looked like they'd seen too much in his small amount of life. If one could call it that. May wasn't sure he could. Those green orbs had been through hell, leaving a thirteen year old boy with eyes much too old for him to bare.

"They're half-brothers," Snyder explained in a gruff voice that made one of them flinch more than the rest. The one on May's right. He was pressed into the corner of the couch, letting his brother hold him tightly. But one thing that stood out more than anything else were those blue eyes that would soon be everyone's undoing. They looked so damn innocent, yet hurt in so many ways. "They had been separated for two years, a couple of years ago and the system thinks they need to be separated again."

Those poor boys wouldn't look up from the ground. They huddled together like they sought each other's touch. Like they craved it. And after that sentence, they just held on tighter as tears fell down the smallest boy's face. The one with the oddly twisted leg. And it struck the man right in the heart. So he did what his colleague wasn't doing. He met them where they were, slowly kneeling down beneath the boys.

"Hey there, kiddos..." His gentle smile didn't seem to get through to them. Only the oldest would look at him. Couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. He pulled the other two closer as the man reached out to carefully touch his knees. "It's okay... no one here wants to hurt you. You're safe."

The littlest one shifted at the kind, gentle words. They seemed foreign to him. The calming, welcoming tone was one that he clearly hadn't been exposed to in a very long time and those wonderful green eyes peaked up at him from his big brother's shirt. It was the other boy who refused to look at him. The one who had his knees rolled up to his chest in attempts at blocking himself from harm. May had seen it before. The job of a detective was never easy. "My name is May. I'm the chief of police. Your new foster dad works with me," he explained gently with a very small, very gentle smile. "What are your names?"

May could feel Snyder pacing behind him. And their social worker was no doubt somewhere back there too. But it didn't matter because all of the sudden, he wanted nothing more than to be able to envelope these tiny boys in a hug and protect them from the world.

The boys hesitated. The oldest ran hands through his littlest brother's hair, trying to reassure him that he was there. All he could do with the other was rub his back, calmingly, trying to assure him that no one was there to hurt him. May could see the bruises that littered all of their skin. What he couldn't see was what happened on the inside. The emotional pain and torture that they'd likely been through. But after a long time, green eyes locked in on his own blue ones.

"'M Jack..." The voice was so small. So incredibly terrified of saying the wrong thing and getting someone hurt. Then he carefully nodded to the smallest of them, next to him, curled up at his side with his crutch in his hand. A means of defense. Something he never truly would grow out of. "Th's 's Crutchie..." May chose to ignore the odd nickname. He'd learn the boy's real name from his detective, that was sure enough. But then his eyes landed on the last boy and he quickly found those blue eyes. They wouldn't meet him. And all he could do was give a warm smile as the boy -Jack- looked over to the curly headed kid. "N' th's 's Racetrack..."

The chief smiled and nodded genuinely, making sure to hold his hands in places where they could see them. Making sure they felt safe in his presence and then glaring back at his head detective when he noticed Crutchie shifting at the continuous footsteps of the man. "It's very nice to meet you, boys." None of them moved. Not a single one. The just held onto each other tightly as Jack eyed him, trying to make sure he was being genuine.

It was clear from the beginning that they were scared. That they'd been abused. That they deserved so much better. It was obvious to May. And there was nothing more he wanted than to give them the world. They were so small and scared and desperate to stay with each other, it was a miracle that Jack lifted his arm away from Racetrack to shake the man's hand.

"Nice ta meet ya, Mr. May..." he whispered politely. And May grinned. But he knew it wasn't gonna be easy gaining their trust. After all, once you've seen people at their worst, it isn't easy giving into others.

"You boys are gonna be okay here," he promised. "Anytime you need help, you just call me or find me if your foster dad's not around, alright?"

The curiosity in Jack's forest green eyes was astounding. A look of a dreamer with hopes of a future in that moment. It was a spark that May would never get tired of seeing. Jack wanted to go places. And May wanted that spark to stay forever. A spark of hope. A spark of hope that they might have a friend. Someone looking out for them.

And that was how it all started.

Thinking back to that day at this moment made May nauseous. He could vaguely feel a hand curl around his. Looking up, he found Medda's tear drowned eyes. They were big and sad and May glanced around the room. It was them and the teacher. Kloppman, he believed. Race's teacher. The one that was so incredibly concerned. He could see Snyder and Wiesel standing outside, having a conversation about something. No one knew what about. But thinking about it made so many emotions stir up in the man that he wished he could snuff out.

"Please... please tell me that I'm looking at all of this the wrong way..." He was practically begging the woman at his side. But she stayed silent for too long. Wouldn't respond to his desperate plea. And he knew that he'd failed. He'd failed those boys.

"It's not your fault, May..." the woman tried, but the chief shook his head.

"I let it happen."

Medda grasped onto his hand tighter. "He's a friend. It's hard to see the bad in him when you've been through so much together. Believe me, I know..." Her voice was so knowing and broken as she spoke, May couldn't help but feel his heart break.

"We've been friends since his first day on the job..." he sighed, remembering it all so clearly. Medda nodded and glanced out the window as well. Kloppman was listening to the quiet conversation. They all chose to not comment on it. "Before I was chief... he was my first partner. Saved my life so many times..." It felt like the world was coming down, crashing all around him. "How did I not see it?"

Medda let tears slide down her cheeks. "He wouldn't let you..."

She was right.

It was a few months after the boys had been taken in. Snyder was much more tense. May had assumed it was because taking care of three growing boys couldn't have been easy. Not a single bit. He decided to grab some take out and head on over. He wanted to see if the kids were adjusting. He wanted to see how they had been.

When Snyder let him in, he hadn't expected to see little Racetrack on the couch, being rocked back and forth by his big brother as his little brother dabbed his bleeding elbow with a wet rag. The poor child looked like he'd been screaming. And May rushed inside.

"What happened?"

Snyder easily walked over and sat on the arm of the couch. "You know how boys are. They were wrestling and he hit the table." No one argued. Jack didn't look up from his brother and Crutchie sniffled as he tried to clean up the blood from the injured boy's arm. All May could do was slowly make his way over to the kids, carefully picking up the youngest- ten years old at the time- under the armpits and gently set him down on his lap, doing all he could to soothe the child when he gasped and tried to get away. May shushed him and moved his small crutch to his side so he couldn't try to hurt anyone. And then he carefully took Crutchie's hand in his, guiding the rag over the wound in a way that would hopefully stop the bleeding.

The brotherly grip tightened a bit as Race gasped and squirmed to get away, but May didn't move, wanting the wound to heal instead of get infected. It was a deep cut. No doubt it could've been from the sharp edge of the coffee table. The story made sense. And it came from someone he'd trusted his life with. So he didn't question it. "It's alright... just a little cut. Don't worry, buddy..." Oh how he wished he had questioned it...

Race still didn't relax into his hold, but Jack held him still and the fussing stopped soon enough. Soon all that was heard were small gasps as May lifted his and the youngest boy's hand to take a look at the cut. May hissed as he saw it and the boy buried his head in Jack's shoulder. "It's okay, kid... nothin' that won't heal."

The youngest boy nodded and wiped at his scared tears. May thought they were scared. He thought they were just nervous because past homes had been bad. One screw up and they were out. He wanted to tell them it was okay. "Snyder, do you have any disinfectant?"

Within the next few minutes, May had set Crutchie down on the couch and was helping Racetrack reluctantly sit up so that he could help him from his position on the coffee table and disinfect the wound. "This is gonna sting a little bit. Are you ready?"

The way the boy hissed at the contact made May's heart hurt. He tried his best to be gentle. The kid was so small and fragile he was afraid he might shatter. Nothing less than glass. The cut wasn't too bad, though. And the rest of him seemed okay, save for a few bruises that littered his skin.

Crutchie looked so guilty. All May could do was give him a reassuring smile. A nod. A silent promise that everything would be okay. That Race wouldn't get hurt again.

But boys will be boys.

It was an awful whirl of emotions. How could he have believed it for so long? The same old excuse and the same old bruises. Boys will be boys. It wasn't true. Jack and Race and Crutchie hadn't been wrestling and the realization sent tears down May's face.

"They won't blame you, May," a soft voice broke in. "They were so scared of being torn apart that they hid it from you. And it's not your fault." It was an attempt of reassurance that May felt he didn't deserve. A rush a words that just made his stomach turn.

"He might be my friend, Medda..." he sighed, grasping her hand tighter. "But those are my boys." Practically his own. The boys he loved dearly. "How could I have been so blind?"

No response. Nothing. Just silence and three adults wondering how they could've let three innocent little boys be put through such tortures.

More memories ran through his head. More wonderful memories of those precious children when he chose to look the other way and miss what was standing right in front of him. Crutchie in the hospital with a concussion...

"We were out at the park and he fell of the swing."

Jack with a broken wrist.

"He just tried to show up some neighborhood bully today."

Race and his tears and his bruises and scars that were just everywhere.

"This one just doesn't know how to stay out of trouble."

It hurt him to think about. He always saw their hurts and he was always there to help them, never truly noticing that Snyder hadn't been there, doing what should have been his job. Doing what any parent should have done. May cleaned their wounds. May kissed their heads when they were crying. May tickled them when they were frowning and picked the up when they were smiling. May cared. And it was at that moment when he realized that Snyder had always just been in the background somewhere, silently warning the kids to keep their mouths shut. To obey him. And it hurt.

It was amazing how May had managed to gain their trust. At first it seemed they were too closed off to even think about befriending him. But the long journey it had taken to get where they were was so complex and awful, now that May had the realization. The realization that they trusted him because the person that was supposed to care for them... didn't.

The trust had been slow and excruciating to gain at first. The littlest one had been the easiest to win over, that was for sure. When they'd first moved in, that little boy was the one May made smile every day. He picked him up and carried him around and made him feel loved and cared for by being in his arms.

It was the others that were harder to win over.

Jack took months. Months of hushed voices and kind conversations and caring for his brothers. Months of hesitant phone calls whenever Snyder was out and they needed something.

But the one that May would never be able to forget was the day that he'd been able to win over Race. It wasn't slow or gradual. It was a day that he'd almost lost everything. A day both of them had almost lost everything. And it made May sick to now understand who's hand it was at.

May remembered that day so clearly...

"Chief May...?" The voice had been so small and so scared. And it caught May's attention immediately.

"Anthony?"

Sniffles and sobs came through. It was so vividly clear that this young, twelve year old boy was trying desperately to hold it together. To get words out. To try and make someone understand. "May... help... please... I-I don' know what ta do!" The words were so choppy with panic and May's heart started beating faster as he headed to his own door, suddenly rushing to get across town and stop the panic.

"Calm down, kiddo. What's wrong? What happened?" Fear stabbed at his heart. Race almost sounded hysterical. Breathing so hard and fast. It was a miracle he was still grasping onto the phone. Murmurs and choked cried were heard from the other end and May tried to keep himself from lashing out and screaming for the boy to explain. Instead he rushed out of his own apartment, booking it down to his car and not hesitating to turn on the lights and the sirens. "Tony?"

"Someone broke in!"

He honked his horn and blared his sirens. The world was moving in slow motion. Nothing seemed to be going fast enough for the chief. But damn it, he would get there. He had to get to those boys. "Racetrack, keep talking to me. What happened? Where are your brothers? Where's Mr. Snyder?"

Sobs came in harder at that. May would bet the tears could beat the rain that was pouring outside. "Gone..." the small child choked out. "S-Snya's gone..." Race was clearly about to go into some sort of panic attack. It was clear that he wasn't breathing right or thinking straight and all May wanted to do was calm him down. But he had to know what he was dealing with. So he waited for the boy to continue speaking. "Don' kn-know where..."

"Okay buddy... it's okay... are you alone? Where are Jack and Crutchie?" May almost regretted asking the question as soon as it left his lips.

Race gasped for air, trying to calm himself. Nothing worked. It was a mess of snot and tears and all May could tell was that he was still breathing. But he feared that with how hard the kid was sobbing and panicking he must've been seriously hurt. "Th-they're here... I don' know what ta do!" May pulled up just as Race was able to fully tell him why he was panicking. "They're bleedin'! Ya gotta do somethin'! Please!"

May was out and running faster than he could comprehend. Nothing or no one was stopping him in his panicked stride. Flying up the stairs he was able to make one small request of his young friend. "Unlock the door, Racetrack. I'm almost there." The boy did so without a word and by the time May got to the door, he was already away, in the center of the room, sobbing hysterically over two small bodies. And May could see red. So much red. It was one of the most terrifying scenes of his life.

Race was on his knees between them, sporting a sort of impressive shiner around his right eye, trying desperately to keep the other two boys awake awake. It was all the little boy knew how to do. But it was t going to work for much longer. Not with those kinds of wounds. Jack's head lay close to his brother's knee. Blood seeped out of it sluggishly, a cloth lay underneath it, like someone had tried to stop the bleeding. It hadn't been working. That along with the odd angle of the boy's forearm were the worst of that kid's injuries. And Crutchie didn't seem to be doing much better. The youngest boy looked even smaller than normal. His bad leg was twisted up and his eyes were drooping further than Jack's. His nose was bleeding profusely. And more blood dropped from his lower left side. It looked like he'd been nicked with a small knife.

The chief of police jumped into action as soon as he could. He quickly dialed 911 and rushed over to the kids, gently pulling the young boy away from his brothers, trying to calm him as he screamed and cried. Jack winced at the loud noise and May shushed the frantic children.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance. My kids are hurt." It slipped out. After knowing them a year, it truly felt like he spent so much time around them that they might actually be his. He didn't dwell on it or the fact that Race was too busy drowning in his own tears to react at the words. So he gave the operator the address and then hung up, throwing his phone aside and trying to blot the wounds of the boys.

"Anthony!" he called out. The boy gasped and looked at him, not saying a single word. May motioned toward Crutchie with a nod and grabbed the the cloth that lay below Jack's head, placing pressure on the dangerous cut. "I need you to put pressure on that cut, alright? Can you do that for me?" The boy hesitated before the man looked over at him, a desperate kind of look in his eyes. And the kid nodded, rushing over to his baby brother, slipping out of his own sweatshirt and pressing it to his brother's side.

"Race..." the youngest boy breathed, reaching up for the twelve year old's hand. He took it with out question.

Blinking back tears, it was all May could do to stay calm. And the next few minutes was a rush of sobs and screams of Race trying desperately to speak to his fading brothers. But eventually, May heard the sirens and picked Jack up in his arms, one hand behind the fourteen year olds head and the other underneath him. He ran the boy down the stairs to the stretcher and then sprinted back up, taking the steps two at a time to get back to Crutchie.

The way Race looked at him when he came back was absolutely heartbreaking. The tears wouldn't stop coming. And May had to scoop Crutchie up in the gentlest manner he could, letting the boy run behind him, his baby brother's crutch still in his hand.

They'd barely made it to the hospital. May remembered that much. Jack didn't wake up for three days and Crutchie almost completely bled out. When the chief asked Race to tell him what happened, he got the simplest answer.

"Someone broke in..."

"Did they take anything?"

A simple shake of the head and eyes that wouldn't meet his was his only response. The case went cold a few weeks later. They'd caught several other burglars and thieves. Race had said he didn't know what they looked like. That they wore a mask. And May believed him. They assumed they'd caught the criminal.

Damn it he wished he could've gone back to that day and done his job. Investigated. Found anything. He would've caught it so much earlier. Why did it take him till then to see it?

But something had distracted him.

"He ain't neva' done that 'fore..." a weak voice slurred, gaining May's attention. He looked to the hospital bed he sat beside and then down at what the boy on the bed had been referring to.

Race was asleep, head of blond curls a dead weight on his thigh and small hands near his peaceful face as he contently rest on the man. And the awe in Jack's eyes made it clear to May what he was talking about.

Race had never trusted anyone enough to fall asleep near them. No one but his brothers. And May had been distracted. Too wrapped up in the boy to see Jack flinch when Snyder rushed into the room or hear Crutchie whimper when the man got too close. He missed it. And he could've stopped it so long ago if he would've only opened his damn eyes.

For the life of him, May couldn't understand why this time was different. Why something clicked this time. Maybe it was the teacher that kept glaring at the man outside the door or the way Race had tensed when Snyder grabbed him, but one thing was for sure, May had messed up. He'd turned his head for far too long. Now he was looking right at the monster who would dare lay a hand on those innocent boys.

Well... mostly innocent...

Racetrack sat in front of him, a scowl on his face, not ready to speak. Not even willing to look him in the eyes. He was slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as his blue eyes looked all over the ground, never deciding on a place to land. His knee bounced up and down, anxiously. And as much as May wanted to be normal with the kid, he knew he had to put on the stern face and an unbreakable posture.

"You gotta talk to me, Anthony... sitting there in silence isn't going to get you anywhere." For a split second those blue eyes found him. But that moment was fleeting. Race went back to studying to floor, most likely praying for some kind of escape. He wasn't getting one. Not with May there. No way. "C'mon kid, out with it. Where did you get them?"

The silence was choking both of them. Race wasn't one for silence, May knew that much. He loved to talk. The fourteen year old was quite the hand full and to be where they were right then, sitting in silence, it was a full blown miracle.

They were in the police department. They were sitting at May's desk. There were bruises forming on the boy's wrists from where the cuffs had been. "I barely got there before they just took you, do you understand that?" Still nothing. Still not a sound. It wasn't a mystery to figure out why. Shame, regret. All of it. Race was utterly terrified and there was nothing to stop it. "Stop ignoring me, bud... I'm just trying to understand."

"I ain't..." Race finally muttered, shrinking in on himself more. May sighed in relief.

"Tell me where you got them from." It was a gentle, calm demand. But the kid wasn't one to follow orders easily. So he bit his lip. "What can I do, kid? What am I gonna have to do to get the truth out of you?"

Race had been trying to keep it all in, May knew it. But once it was clear to Race how much trouble he was truly in, the tears began to slowly roll down his face as he sniffled, trying to blink them back. "I wan' Jack..." he admitted, brokenly, practically begging the man in one sentence the let him see his brother. Then he wiped at his nose, trying to hide his voice crack and the tears that wouldn't stop. And May sighed.

"We can do that, kiddo... it's okay..." The hope that grew in those big, watery eyes almost killed May. "But you have to talk to me first. Otherwise, we are gonna have to take you down to a holding cell." The mere thought of being stuck in a cage made the boy's eyes widen in fear, not to mention he wouldn't even be down there alone. Oh no, they didn't have any empty cells and no one knew better than the chief that putting a child down there for holding was dangerous.

Race's mouth fell open as a look of helplessness crossed over his features. And May felt like he'd just betrayed the boy by the way he stuttered and struggled for some kid of reply. "May- I..."

Placing a calming hand on the boy's tense shoulder, May began to gently whisper, "Breathe, buddy... Just tell me what happened, yeah?" The kid was a wreck. He'd been caught. And it was becoming more and more real by the second. His hands were shaking as he tried to breathe normally again and he blinked back tears and sniffled constantly, trying to contain himself.

"I don't know, May!" Race pulled his knees up to his chest. "I just... It jus' happened! I won't do it again! I promise!" His voice broke too many times for May's liking. And the man leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms, desperate not to give in. But it was so incredibly hard when those blue eyes caught him like that.

"It just happened?" the chief questioned. "You just stole a box of cigarettes and smoked half of them? That just happened? No reason?"

Even the boy was hardly buying his own story. But he shook his head. "Please... I won't do it again! Ya gotta believe me!"

May knew he shouldn't have. He knew he needed to stand his ground and get some truths out of the kid. But he just looked so trapped in that moment and all May could think to do was give a wave of his hand to the windowed door behind his young friend. And before they knew it, two boys were rushing in and Race was wrapped up in a mess of familiar arms.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?!"

"God, Race... please don' eva' do that again!" A whirlwind of scolds and relief washed over the child and all he could do was sob onto them, knowing May stood over him, protecting him.

"Sorry... I'm so sorry!"

He would never do anything less. Never. He had to protect them.

"May, calm down..." It was only then that he realized he was shaking. It was only then he felt the tears working down his cheeks.

Jack. His little Jack Kelly had almost died. Had almost stopped breathing. And no one was gonna get away with that.

"He's gonna pay for this, Medda. I can promise you that." It was a promise he didn't even need to make. The look in his eyes said it all.

"How?" The teacher sitting next to them suddenly stood, also enraged for the children he hardly even knew. "We don't have proof... and those kids sure as hell aren't going to say anything." It was true. No way would the brothers say something that could potentially get them taken away from each other. They were terrified kids who truly believed they were doing the right thing.

May's head shot over to the other man, considering the information. He knew that. He knew there was nothing he could do without any proof. He just needed to do a bit of digging. Then he could nail him. His old friend. Arrest the man he'd had to trust his life to for child abuse.

It hurt.

But there was something he had to do first.

"I'm going to go see my boys." He was out of the room before any of the other adults could protest.

Chapter Text

The world was a blur. Time might've been moving, but no one was paying enough attention to notice. It was almost like they were trapped in a white box where time was frozen. Where hell couldn't break lose and the world was calm and peaceful.

They should've known it couldn't last.

Crutchie yawned almost silently in the quiet room he was in. He was curled up on a chair, his small body taking up the thing as he lay down on it, and his blond head of hair rested on his older brother's thigh. The calming motion of a hand running through his messy hair made it known to him that Race was very much awake and was very much tired. There was a lack of mumbles in the room. No jokes, no quips... just a boy who was terrified of losing everything.

It was almost scary. The silence, that is. It wasn't unwelcome, just unfamiliar. The only sound the young boy could hear was the sound of his brothers' breathing and a steady machine, letting him know his protector's heart was still beating.

His heart was still beating.

There was nothing Crutchie wanted more than to run away. To get out of this Godawful place. Nothing worked like it should. Nothing made sense here. And watching his big brother, pale and broken on that stiff bed... it hurt. To know this has happened because he was protecting them hurt even worse.

Young green eyes lingered on the boy on the bed. It amazed Crutchie how still Jack could be. Normally he wasn't. Normally, he didn't show pain. He didn't show how tired he was. He didn't ever look so... small. Jack was only three years older than him, but to Crutchie, Jack was the only father he'd ever known. What else could he call him? What else can he call someone who does nothing but provide for him? Someone who does nothing but love him and kiss his head when he's hurt and hold him when he's scared?

"Race?" A hum came from above him after his drawled whisper. They didn't want to wake their brother. They didn't want to hurt the quiet. "What're we gonna do?"

An impossible question. Any answer would be wrong. Any move they made could get them right back where they were. It was like they were caught in a magic door that just disposed of them in the same room they'd already been in. They'd always be broken. They'd always be hurt. They'd always be clinging to each other for dear life.

From above him, his brother sighed and grabbed one of his hands as gently as he could in the shaken state Crutchie knew he was in. "I don't know, Crutch..." The younger boy could hear the tears in his voice. He would admit, watching Jack sleeping in a hospital was not a sight they'd wished they could see. "Just relax... It's all gonna be fine..."

Fine... It was a lie they'd been telling themselves for years. Every time they heard a bone crack or a head hit the wall... "It's all gonna be fine..."

It wasn't fine. They weren't fine. Yet somehow, they were damn good at pretending.

At least... they had been.

When the door opened, no one had expected it. Crutchie felt Race jump a bit beneath him and their broken brother stirred next to them. It wasn't long before the little boy saw a young nurse making her way over. He heard a greeting come from the man behind the curtain that Jack shared a room with. And then the woman was smiling at him as he skeptically watched her every step. He didn't trust her. Why should he? He didn't know her. But it didn't matter. She came anyway. And then she was there, right in front of them.

"Hello, boys," she greeted, a plastic smile on her doll-like features.

For once, Crutchie was glad the Race took hold of the casual conversation instead of him. He didn't think words would come out of his mouth in his exhausted state. "Hi, miss..." his big brother whispered, not wanting to wake Jack. If anyone deserved to sleep, it was him.

The nurse began checking the machines that seemed to tie their brother down. Her smile faded into a smaller one as she checked over the bandage that was wrapped around the boy's torso. The look on her face said it all. Jack was bleeding again.

"I'm gonna need you two to leave the room for a few minutes..." That was all she said before she was gently pulling the blanket further off of Jack and moving around him in a quiet rush.

The two boys on the stiff, uncomfortable chairs did not move. Instead, worry grew in both of them. But a stern look from the young woman had Crutchie sitting up, hesitantly. "He'll be okay?" he asked in a small voice. It shook. It was so scared. But the nod met him and made him calm a bit as he stood. Unfortunately for him, Race was not one to take orders easily.

The blue-eyed boy sat, his hands shaking at the thought of going back out into the hall. At this point, Crutchie didn't know weather it was because he was terrified of leaving Jack, guilty for getting him here in the first place, or because he was even more scared of seeing Snyder in the halls. Quite possibly, it was both. But it didn't matter, because the nurse would get them out one way or another.

It wouldn't be the first time they'd had to call security because the boys refused to leave.

"Race... c'mon, we gotta go..." he reached down with his free arm and tugged at his brother's sleeve. But Race only sniffled and scooted forward in his seat.

"I love you, Kelly..." he whispered to the sleeping boy. And he pressed a feathery kiss to the older boy's temple, like Jack had always done for them. And then he stood, his blue eyes swimming a bit. But he straightened up, trying to look tough. Trying to put up his front again. The one Crutchie was so used to. But he knew the boy better than that. He knew he was more than terrified.

This was bad. The situation was bad. They all knew it. It was so obvious. And that girl... that girl was onto them. David... he knew... and that was dangerous. But that girl... she was even more dangerous.

The arm around his shoulders stopped his train of awful thoughts. And before Crutchie could comprehend what was happening, he was being lead out into the hall.

Seeing them made May's heart swell. Crutchie didn't look to be doing well. Race was unreadable in that moment. But one thing was true; They were both hurting. And May hated it.

They were just exiting the room when he was rushing towards them. What he didn't know was that he hadn't been the only one that wanted to check on them. He'd been followed. And Racetrack and Crutchie seemed to freeze at the sight of so many people staring at them.

May didn't think twice. "Anthony, it's okay. Let's go sit down okay?"

Both boys hesitated. Neither of them liked the idea of letting go of each other. But, as Race caught sight of their guardian glaring daggers at them, he cautiously moved away from his little brother. And off with May he went, hoping to God that the world would just end right then and there.

It didn't.

For a moment, the boy with the crutch stood awkwardly in front of the door that kept him from Jack. So many eyes were on him. He could see them all, concerned, curious and waiting for answers. He knew they would be disappointed when he had none. So he looked down at his hands, trying his best to block out the noise that suddenly surrounded him. Trying his best to make everything quiet again.

He wished to run into Medda and hide in her embrace. But Snyder didn't like it when he did that. No one knew why, but Mr. Snyder had a burning hatred for the woman that had never had a bad bone in her body. So still Crutchie stood, knowing eyes were on him. The eyes of the devil. The eyes of an innocent kid. The eyes of the adults he knew too well, and one he did not.

He expected one of them to try and talk to him. He didn't dare look over to his brother who was sitting beside the chief of police, terrified of giving himself away. But someone approached anyway. And he was shocked to find out who it was.

"Hey, kid..." The voice was unfamiliar and quiet. It was gentle and warm and welcoming. But Crutchie did not look up. "It's Christopher, right?" The man was being kind. So the boy decided he deserved at least a small nod. "My name's Kloppman... I'm your brother's teacher-"

"I know..." Crutchie stated in a broken voice. He knew. He did. If it wasn't for the teacher they wouldn't be in this mess. Snyder wouldn't have had a reason to-

Crutchie stopped his own thoughts. That wasn't fair. He don't know no betta'...

"Is your brother doing okay?" Kloppman knew this child was scared. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a kid act like this. A small nod was again his only response. "What about Anthony?" he added in a small whisper, trying to not let anyone else hear his conversation with the clearly frightened boy.

The small boy froze. There was no way to answer that. So he didn't. He stared at the ground in silence for a long while, not willing to tell this new man anything. Not willing to let someone he did not know into his thoughts and worries. But the man didn't get angry at his lack of response, like he thought he might. Instead, he asked a different question. "I'm sorry if I'm over stepping... but, Anthony... has anyone ever tried to teach him-"

"We tried!" Crutchie broke. He didn't exactly know why. Maybe it was that everyone was looking at them like they'd never attempted to do anything, when in reality they had worked so hard. They'd tried. "Me n' Jack learned fine! But Race couldn't eva' get it..." Tears started pouring and Crutchie was even more scared than he had been before. Snyder hated it when he cried. It meant he was useless and weak. But he continued on anyway. "I's tried... he says he don't see what we see. 'E says everything gets... gets jumbled up..." he explained, trying to remember how exactly his brother had put it.

A genuine look of understanding crossed Kloppman's face. And for the first time, Crutchie felt like Race might not be a lost cause after all. Maybe there was still hope. But it didn't matter. Because Crutchie looked up. It wasn't like seeing those kind eyes could be all he saw. It was balanced out with the cold, dark, threatening one's behind those. The one's of the hated man that was the very reason they were here. So the child looked back to the ground and wiped at his eyes sloppily with the sleeve of his shirt. "'m sorry..." He wasn't sure why he was apologizing. It seemed like the right thing to do. But the man shook his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for..."

If Crutchie flinched at the man's touch to his shoulder, Kloppman pretended he didn't notice. It was only about twenty seconds before the kid relaxed into it. But the man's heart was breaking for these kids. "Christopher... I think your brother might have something called dyslexia..."

May didn't know where to start. The boy in front of him was eerily silent. Those blue eyes stared straight ahead at the wall in front of them. Race was so quiet. May didn't like it.

"Talk to me, buddy..." May coaxed, placing a gentle hand on the child's shoulder. "What's goin' through that head of yours?"

Race shook his head. He blinked, trying to prevent his eyes from filling with tears. He wouldn't cry anymore. He couldn't. He had to be strong now. He had to be fine now. Jack was fine. They'd be okay. "Nothin'," he lied, refusing to look at the man. The wall was better. The wall was not a former detective. The wall didn't depict lies for a living. The wall couldn't read him like a book.

Not that May had either. But this time... this time things were different. This time, May was on high alert. And that scared Race.

The chief of police sighed. He looked around at the people in the hall. They all tried to busy themselves with phones and meaningless conversation. All expect for the man that was under everyone's suspicion. He just stood, watching. May didn't like it.

"Kid... you know there's nothing to be scared of right? You can tell me anything..."

Suddenly, the boy felt nauseous. He couldn't help but curl in on himself, bringing his legs up to his chest and practically holding himself together by grasping at his own knees. May seemed to notice his face flush. A hand was on his back. That didn't stop the room from spinning. Race swallowed hard. "Scared a' what?"

May paused, unsure of what to say. He knew the kid knew what he was talking about. For once, he didn't just take their word for it. For once he watched every movement, every twitch and every vocal tone. But after a long moment of silence, he convinced himself to just say the words. He had to. "Is Mr. Snyder hitting you?"

Something in Race lurched in a panic and the next thing he knew he was on his feet, rushing to the nearest waist bin. The little food he'd had reappeared in seconds as he made an awful sound, desperate to control himself. He gripped the side of the can. He swore his knuckles were turning white. But it didn't matter. He could feel a hand on his back, trying in vein to calm him down. All he could do was let coughs rack his body.

It's over... It was all he could think. Please God don't take them from me...

The child was out of tears. He just let himself sink to the floor, feeling weak and tired and knowing that it had to have something to do with a lack of food and sleep. He couldn't take it anymore.

The universe didn't seem to care.

"Take a deep breath, buddy..." May's voice broke through to him, but all Race could see was his guardian rushing up to him, an artificial look on his features.

"Okay... it's time to go home. You boys need to rest." A pang of fear shot through Crutchie as he limped over to his fallen brother. He dropped down beside him as he watched those piercing blue eyes look up, wide as ever. He knew what was coming. They both did.

May shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea-"

"I'm taking them, May!" Several strangers in the hallway froze at the sudden yell. Snyder didn't care. "Unless you have any reason why I shouldn't."

May's blood boiled. Snyder was onto him. He had to be. May stood up, letting Crutchie handle the boy on the ground while he came face to face with the man. His old friend. The man knew what he was doing. He was practically dangling the bait in front of May's face, daring the chief to call him out with no evidence. And all the good man could do was glare, knowing he had nothing. Knowing he was empty handed and Snyder held all the cards. It was a hopeless game. And that scared May.

"Get up, boys. We're leaving." The demand was said as Snyder had a stare down with his superior. But the boys got up quick as if that icy, sharp glare was directed at them.

And May could do nothing but helplessly stand there and watch them leave, hearing Medda's voice and seeing Kloppman's heartbroken face. His heart broke in pieces when Race looked back at him with wide eyes that just so desperately wanted to beg for help. But he didn't.

So May watched them go.

The room spun slightly as Jack came to. He felt unbalanced and drowsy. It wasn't a good feeling. His head hurt like nothing else and his back burned and itched and ached. It didn't help that his left side was going numb from being stuck in one position for so long, either. He was ready to be released. He could do it. He'd be fine.

As if it was a normal reaction to waking up in his position, the boy on the bed grasped his hand together; excepting another one to be inside of it. Instead, his muscles twitched as all he did was squeeze at air.

It was nothing. It had to be nothing. Crutchie and Race were always there. They were always there when he woke up. So he thought nothing of it. "Mmmm... Crutch?" he mumbled out, trying to shift his body as to wake his arm up. All he did was make himself hiss as accidentally turned too far, brushing his angry red back against the cool bed he lie on.

Kind hands found their way into his wisps of hair. Jack ignored the fact that he felt hot. The fact that he must've been sweating despite it being cold out. "Shhhh... It's okay, baby..."

Medda... An angel in disguise. It was the only way Jack could describe her. And he fought his eyes open to get a look at the woman. While the world was bleary and dizzy, Jack could make out her features fine. But he didn't like that she wasn't the only one there. He didn't like that he could see another outline behind her. He blinked a few times to clear his vision only to see the chief of police, pacing nervously, a worried as hell look on his normally calming features. "Where're the boys...?" He was afraid of the inevitable answer. He really was.

For a moment, May froze in his tracks. He didn't have the heart to look at Jack. God, what have I done? He didn't look into those green eyes. The guilt, he feared, would be too much. "I'm so sorry, Jack..." He shook his head, sniffling and he realized that it must've been his fault. Everything had to have been because he was too blind to see that his friend had been overtaken with evil. "I'm so sorry I never..." The man cut himself off. How could he apologize for this? There's no way he could... he had failed these kids. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

"May..." Jack croaked out, his throat feeling like sandpaper as he spoke, being almost completely dehydrated. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?" He had trouble keeping his eyes open. Gravity seemed to be pushing them down. Gravity seemed to be pushing him down. He hated gravity. Why did it always pin him down?

Medda sighed and May shook his head and Jack sat there, awaiting an answer until the strongest man he knew wiped away a stray tear on his cheek. "Snyder took them, Jack..."

A bomb went off inside Jack's mind as he dumbly tried to sit up, forgetting how hurt he'd been. "What? Where?" He forgot he wasn't supposed to sound frantic. He forgot he loved Snyder. He forgot Snyder didn't beat them or kick them or lock them in closets. At least, not when May was around.

May didn't seem to react too much. "Back to the apartment..." Jack's panic broke his heart.

Jack's world was crumbling around him. His boys were at home alone with a maniac, and this time, he wasn't there to protect them. This time, Race's arms would break. This time, Crutchie's knee would dislocate. This time, his brothers would scream. He'd taken the beatings. He'd taken the foul language. He'd taken the looks of disgust and anger. And he'd do it all over again if it meant his brothers didn't have to. But this time, he didn't have that option.

"Honey, listen to me..." Medda stroked her boy's arm as he lay back down. His green eyes were wide and his breathing was irregular, not to mention the quiet ding getting steadily faster. "Tell him... tell May and everything will be fine. Just tell him the truth..."

Jack tried to tell himself to breath. It just felt like he was falling further underwater. "I-I... I can't... they'll... I c-can't..."

"I can..."

Jack's world stopped in that moment. Time froze and sound was gone. All he could feel was his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. The one thing he'd been hiding; His one, big, life altering, pain in the ass secret, was no longer his own to keep. The boy behind had stolen his right to remain silent because his voice would spill everything Jack had ever had to say. Everything he'd ever wished he could scream.

"David..." he warned, darkly. He would not lose his brothers. Not now. But he could feel those dark eyes glaring at him.

"I'm not letting that guy hurt your brothers again, Jack..." he whispered, shaking his head. David's heart hurt as he was betraying his new friend's only request. But he was doing the right thing. He knew he was.

Right?

Then the girl, Katherine... she walked in too. Jack wondered for a split second how they simply waltzed into his room. But it didn't matter. There's was something more pressing at hand.

"This witness should be enough for you to go check on them..." the girl offered, a slight dread building in her chest as she held up her notebook to the former detective. She hoped what he would find would not be too bad.

May's eyes danced over the page. Each moment, each word, each damn letter only made him feel nauseous. Some details even made his eyes go wide. Loud screams... slams into the walls... wails of teens... The words were written in scribbles of two different hands. Eventually, he slammed the thing shut, making the child on the bed jump in surprise.

Not a word was said before May was rushing out of the room.

Race's leg bounced up and down with anticipation. Not a word had been said. Nothing. Just the occasional click of a turning signal or squeak of the breaks. He hated the silence. Something inside of him itched for some kind of sound. Some kind of precious noise that would let him know everything was okay. But for that moment, he didn't dare move. Something in Snyder's eyes told him that this was the silence before the bomb. And all the boy could do was share a very nervous glance with his brother in the rear view.

He hugged himself tight. His arms were around his torso and he leaned up against the cool glance of the window beside him, coaching himself in breathing and watching as signs passed them by. Of course, everything just looked like a blur to him. And tears pricked at his icy eyes when he thought about how he'd started this again. How he'd been the reason his big brother was laying in a hospital bed right at that moment. Or how it was his own fault that Snyder was angry with them now. How whatever was to happen next, fell on his shoulders.

"Stop that!" The hiss broke Race from his thoughts. It was loud and harsh and angry and the boy could feel himself going pale at the tone. At the moment, he wasn't thinking about how he was glad it was him instead of his baby brother. For the moment, all he could think about was that in less than an hour, he might be dead.

Race was scared.

His leg stopped bouncing immediately and he held himself tighter, as if he was holding himself together. "'m sorry..." he mumbled out, not looking the man in the eyes. But that wasn't good enough for Snyder. It never was.

Crutchie gasped as he saw his guardians hand reach out to grab at Racetrack. It grabbed the thin boy's arm and yanked it away from the other, warning him against crossing them again. Instinctively, his brother pushed him away, trying to protect himself. And the crippled boy bit his lip as a sarcastic smile met the Spider's face. Not again... please God, not so soon...

"I would be prayin' right now if I were you, boy. You know what fightin' gets ya!" The condescending tone made Race shiver. It had been nothing. Only an instinct to get out; To get away from the man's tight grasp. He should've known better.

But he didn't say a word. Instead, he let the car pull up to their building as he remained scarily silent for being Racetrack Higgins. He didn't dare turn back to face the boy in the backseat, anticipating the slap that would come with moving. No, no... he was Racetrack Higgins. And Racetrack Higgins was known for doing incredibly stupid things. Because in the mind of Racetrack Higgins, being stupid was the only chance he had.

He was unbuckled before the car was stopped. He didn't look over to see Snyder's burning look before he shoved the door open and landed on his feet right as his guardian shifted to park, causing Crutchie to gasp at the bounce of the car as it was stopped so violently.

Race walked quickly, fear controlling his mind. He didn't know where he could go. All he knew was that his heart was beating so fast and his legs were shaking with nerves. However, he didn't anticipate that the Spider would be so quick to turn the car off and follow him, much faster, and much stronger than him. Before he knew it, thick arms locked around him, trapping him as he struggled to get away.

"Oh no you don't, you little bastard. You're comin' upstairs with me..." The child screamed as he was thrown over Snyder's shoulder. He kicked and yelled at the man, but his pleas and curses fell on deaf ears.

The boy with the crutch followed behind as quickly as he could, trying to hold back tears when he saw how hard Race was fighting. Whatever was about to happen... it would be bad.

Snyder was a head detective. He had a good job and made good money by playing both sides. And him and Race could get in the way of that. Him, Race and Jack were threats now. Now people were suspicious. Now... Snyder saw them as disposable.

They were young. They were not stupid.

"Mr. Snyder please!" the young boy begged as he followed his thrashing brother through their building, hating how Snyder could just tell curious onlookers that his foster son was mentally disturbed and was having an episode. Telling the folks who didn't know better that Snyder was actually protecting the panicked child in his arms. "Put him down! He didn't do nothin'!"

He was clawing at the man's shirt, pounding his fists on his back, throwing a fit. And no one stopped to notice how terrified he was. No one questioned Snyder. No one thought that when that boy was dragged into their apartment, he might not come back out.

It would be an easy story. New York wasn't the safest place in the world. Crutchie could practically see the headline. Head Detective Loses Kids in Homs Burglary. Or Foster Boy Gone Wild: Murdered in Self Defense.

As they made way into their apartment, Crutchie's heart dropped to his stomach as Snyder pushed him aside and to the ground while he slammed the door shut. Race was still screaming to be let go. His screams must've echoed throughout their entire building. Surely someone had to notice. Someone had to be there when it all suddenly stopped.

"You want me to let you go?" Snyder teased, gripping the boy over his left shoulder tighter, making it harder for him to kick and lash out. "Fine."

A thud filled the room. Air rushed out of Race's lungs. And the world spun for a moment as he heard glass bottles being smashed and shouts falling from drunken mouths. In the exhausted state Race was in, he couldn't recall if it was a memory or what was actually happening. All he knew was that he suddenly couldn't breathe and that his tongue was numb. Upon further analysis, he spit to reveal a deep red substance that fell from his lips. And he didn't catch his breath before his chin snapped to the side, a deafening smack ricocheting off of Race. He didn't hear himself scream.

That was all Crutchie heard. Along with another awful voice closing in more and more on Race who could only pull his legs up to his chest and try to keep breathing. "Boy, when I'm done with you, you'll wish you'd never been born. How dare you try and destroy everything I've created!" A kick made Race double over. "I give you a roof! A bed! Clothes to wear! And you pathetic idiots can't take a few hits?!" Another smack. Another scream. "You're weak! And you're useless!" A cry, a thud, a smack.

Smack. Hit. Kick. Scream. Thud. Plea. Begs. Mocks.

Crutchie felt the tears. He could feel his face getting sticky from his leaking eyes. And he stood on a shaky leg. He couldn't watch this. Not again.

"Please! We didn't do nothin'!" Race pressed his back against the wall. He had no where left to go. He was trapped in between an unforgiving man and an unforgiving wall. Panic spiked through him. There was nothing he could do. "Jack would even be there if it weren't for you!"

He regretted those words immediately. All it got him was another punch to the jaw. The boy hugged himself tight and squeezed his eyes shut.

Smack. Hit. Kick. Scream. Thud. Plea.

Laugh. Smack. Knife. Hit. Thud. Plea.

Scream. Kick. Mock. Laugh. Smack. Thud-

Bang.

The world was a blur and everything was quiet. All that could be heard was harsh breathing. And when the door was thrown open, no one moved. Everything froze. May in the doorway. Race on the ground. Crutchie standing tall. Snyder laying face down.

But no had eyes for anything but the gun.

Chapter Text

It was near silent in the room that had been his prison for that night. The clock on the far wall ticked on, not caring how much pain each click inflicted on the people that boy cared about most in the world. He was alone in his hospital room, wishing behind anything that someone would make the pure white go away. He hated it. It was all too bright for him. Closing his eyes was already hard before he had to worry about the brightness being too much.

Jack stared blankly at the menacing time keeper before him, willing it to just freeze for one blissful moment and give the world peace without anyone else ever knowing. He wished for it to just break and fall off the wall, leaving him to soak in a few moments of a frozen world so he could just catch up for a moment. He had no such luck. The inevitable would happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His body couldn't keep still. His fingers drummed against the railing of the bed they held tight to; it was just something to keep him grounded. Without a familiar hand there, there wasn't much else he could do. He so badly felt the urge to make it stop, to just forget. Maybe things would be better if he forgot. Maybe it would be easier. But for the life of him, he just couldn't make himself do it.

The boy tried to envision a smile on Crutchie's features. A real, genuine grin that had once defined the child. It was only then Jack realized how long it had been since he'd seen such a treasuring sight. He tried to picture his half Italian brother, laughing... if only for a moment. He just wanted to hear that laugh again. But, like the smile of a boy that had been his sunshine since the day he was born, that laugh was few and far between. There was a bitterness and anger growing in what everyone used to call the purest of innocence. Sooner or later, it was bound to explode.

A knock startled Jack out of his thoughts. And that was okay. He needed to stop thinking. He needed to forget. Maybe his brothers would be better off without him anyway. So he turned to look at the door, about to yell out "Go away!" without so much as a second thought before he found the doorway completely empty. As his heart clenched and he came to the conclusion that he must be insane, he turned back to catch sight of a figure standing next to the window. Well, standing might've been dishing out too much credit. A figure smugly leaned against the wall beside the freshly opened window, a smirk upon his arrogant lips and his huge arms out for display across his chest in the tank top he wore, despite it being on the colder side, even in that room. Beneath his arm was a leather jacket he probably didn't care enough to wear either. But seeing the other boy didn't make Jack any less frustrated, though instead of letting out a shout, he simply scowled at the intruder and rolled his eyes. "What the hell do you want, Conlon?"

When he heard the boy snort a bit, he knew that his voice had shook. He knew that it was clear to the toughest kid in New York that he'd been crying. Jack barely had the energy to roll his eyes. "Get the hell outta here before the chief of police comes back n' finds ya and decides ta take ya ta real jail 'stead a' Juvie..." he muttered, not caring if he sounded threatening or not. He had lost the will to care about much in that moment. The sickening thought that this may be it for his family could do that to him. But he realized that his mouth kept running.

Maybe Race did have to get that from somewhere...

"Speakin' a' which, how'd ya escape this time?" he asked bitterly. "Did ya shoot one a' the guards? Or did ya... charm ya way out..." he scowled, having to pause to think of the right word.

At that, the boy by the window actually laughed. It was the kind of laugh that could send chills down someone's spine. But Jack wasn't intimidated. Not in the least. He just shook his head and forced himself not to scream out for someone to get this boy out of here, because while Jack himself wasn't afraid of the almighty Spot Conlon, everyone knew that he damn well should've been.

"Ya know, Jackie... that ain't usually the way you talk ta someone who watched out fer your kid brotha' fer two years..." the boy smirked, pushing himself from the wall and beggining to walk closer to Jack. "Or the one who saved your asses from gettin' killed," he finished with a smug grin taking over his features as he winked. Jack tensed at the reminder.

"It's how I talk ta the idiot who almost convinced my baby brotha' ta pull a gun on someone!" Jack hissed, glaring hard at the boy before him standing much too proud of himself to be comforting.

If it was possible, the grin on Spot's face actually widened and a sparkle was set off in his deep, dark brown eyes. "So he did it then?" he beamed, knowing the only way that Jack would've known that was if he'd witnessed the close call himself. "What? Was he gettin' sick n' tired a' seein' his all mighty big brotha' beggin' on the ground?" he teased. Though, he was sure that if Jack hadn't been so weak at that moment, they would've been in another fight, then and there. All the other boy could do was growl at him. "Did Snyda' have ya on the ground again?"

The only answer was silence. That was all Spot needed.

"Kid's got some guts if he even came close. But you know that already, don't ya?"

"Get out," Jack ordered quickly, hating the fact that he was left alone in that room. But Spot didn't move.

"Watch it, Kelly," the boy with the strong Brooklyn accent warned. "I only came cause a little birdie tol' me there was trouble down on this end," he explained, glancing around the room to make sure they were truly alone. That's when Jack reached out and snatched a radio that was strapped to the boy's side. Spot just smirked and let him have it, pulling a cigarette out of his back pocket, along with a lighter, and filling up the room with a bit of smoke.

"A little boidie, huh?" Jack mocked, bitterness dripping into his voice as he held the police radio in his hand. "How'd ya even get ya hands on that?!"

Without warning, Spot turned dramatically, pointing dangerously at Jack and staring him down before snatching the thing back. "That ain't none a' your damn business!"

"I think it is my business bein' that you's is tryin' ta manipulate my brother inta doin' ya dirty work!" Jack shot back, angry and ready for a fight. And a fight is what he got. They started yelling, their voices both too strong to out scream one another. The room was swallowed in a jumble of words that didn't make sense and two opposing stories that would forever be told in two separate, bias ways. Jack ended up almost completely sitting up on his bed so he could yell at the boy in front of him. And once they were just about nose to nose is when the Manhattan boy actually heard something slip out of Spot's mouth.

"Snyder's been shot!"

That was the moment that everything inside Jack froze. No... no no no no... He couldn't help but think that those words might not be so chilling if he didn't know where Snyder was or who he was with. His face paled and his green eyes widened. He felt sick, a dizziness and nausea coming over him as he gripped onto the bed for stability. "Racer...?" he breathed out, suddenly terrified. But then he saw Spot shake his head. And suddenly, the world turned upside down. Everything around him spun and Jack was powerless to stop it.

"Said somethin' about a boy with a twisted up leg..." the boy muttered gravely before taking another drag of his cigarette. "Someone from your apartment musta called about hearin' a gunshot. Police found your pal the chief hoverin' ova' Race. Said 'e was covered in blood and havin' trouble breathin'. The crip confessed b'fore anyone could say anythin'..." Spot rolled his cig between his fingers, taking a few steps away from the boy, prepared to leave him with the news as everyone knew Jack did not want his help. But at the window, he stopped for a moment. "I don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout me corruptin' Crutchie. He knew the only way out right then was ta do it. That wus his own choice..." the Brooklyn boy explained, sounding human for a split second. And then he continued, very quietly, "And ya need ta rememba' who's tried ta hurt ya and who's on you's side."

With that, Spot Conlon was gone like he'd never even been there, leaving only the smell of smoke in his wake as his ghostly nature kicked in. Jack didn't stop him. He was too busy gripping the edge of the bed and trying not to vomit. His white world was spinning and visions of blood traveled past his eyes. Race might be dead and Crutchie might be locked up for murder. And there was nothing he could do about it. His heart felt heavy and clenched and all he could feel was pain. So without any kind of warning, Jack let his legs kick out in anger. The chair in front of him toppled over and the loud clang didn't bother him. He wanted to scream. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't draw attention to himself. So he just let his head hang till his chin met his chest and began to silently weep as the news caught up to him. But when he looked back up to blink back the tears, he saw something that hadn't been there before. A bag... an old backpack that Jack swore he'd seen before. Extracting himself from the mess of wires, all the boy could do was grab it and unzip it, ignoring the sting of his back and the pounding of his head. There was nothing inside but some clothes and bag of some pocket money.

But that was all Jack needed.

"Maybe you should try to talk to him," Davey suggested from his chair in the waiting room. He tried to keep his voice down on account of the family sitting on the opposite side of the room. For the life of him, he didn't know why he was still there. After all, he'd only known Jack a few days. But the boys had grown on him. The last thing he wanted was for them to be hurt in any way. He wanted the screaming to stop and the bruises to fade and the scars to heal. He wished he hadn't waited so long to tell someone. One of those boys could be... he didn't finish the thought. It wasn't worth it.

The room had cleared out a bit. May was gone and Medda and Kloppman were who knows where. But Katherine and David refused to leave, desperate to help their friend in anyway they could.

The girl shook her head. "What makes you think he's gonna wanna talk to me?" Katherine questioned, slouched in her chain, her face in her hands. This boy... Jack Kelly... Her so called friends at school may be annoying, but they weren't oblivious. And she'd probably pushed him away forever. Those guarded green eyes would never want to look at her again. And that hurt. Something about that boy... something about that face had Katherine enthralled. But it would be her fault that he hated her. There was nothing she could do about it. "He probably hates me right now..." she admitted in a sigh and she refused to lift her head from her hands.

A laugh was not something she expected as a response. "If you haven't seen the way he looks at you by now, I'm worried for ya, Kat." The girl didn't respond. So David just smirked and continued speaking. "And if you think I haven't seen the way you look at him, then your kidding yourself." At that Katherine did look up in surprise. Her eyebrows shot up too far and the boy beside her laughed. "We may not be the best of friends anymore, Katherine... but I know you..." he stressed, grabbing for her hand. "Go talk ta him..." he urged. "Maybe he'll listen ta you."

It was worth a shot, she supposed. With a squeeze of the boy's hand, Katherine stood, straightening out her button down shirt and taking a deep breath before walking to the room that held a mysterious Jack Kelly inside.

She did not expect what she found.

The boy was not where he should've been. He should've been in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown and resting with fluids keeping him healthy. Instead, he was fully clothed in jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt and a jacket (more than he could probably afford, she noted), he was opening the window and... he was running. Katherine didn't know why or how, but he was.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she hissed, shoving the door closed behind her. By the flinch that took him over, she figured he hadn't heard her walk in, but she was too confused to care.

Green eyes met brown ones. They locked in on each other and there was a feeling in the pit of Katherine's stomach that she couldn't place. But there was a look in Jack's eyes, one that she recognized. It hadn't been too long ago when she'd had the same look in her eyes. The look of a lost, terrified child with nothing to help them. Immediately, Katherine softened.

"What's it to ya, Plumber?" Jack scoffed, his look of shock and longing being hidden by a mask of anger. He wished he didn't know that she was onto him. He wished that he could ignore the pounding of his own heart for only getting to look at her. "'m just a street rat. Ya don't gotta worry 'bout me. Just go back ya your warm house b'fore ya miss dinner and don' make it ta your cozy bed on time," he spat out at her, ignoring the ache in his chest when her eyes shot down to the floor. He'd give anything to just keep looking at those big brown eyes. But he shook himself and turned back to the window. "Goodbye, Plumber..." Maybe in another life... he thought bitterly as he ducked down, ready to push himself through.

He barely made it all the way out the window before he heard her voice and froze, unable to ignore that angelic tone that came with it. "Wait!" she called, rushing over to the window. He squatted down, so that his face was fully visible beneath the glass. She did the same and his heart just about stopped. What he didn't know, was hers had too. She slowly brought her hands up to place on the base of the window.

Her brown eyes were down at her hands. For some reason, she was almost afraid to look up at the boy that she had taken such an interest in. He was mysterious and strong and protective and caring. It was insane how different he was. But she forced herself to look up and her breath caught in her chest. He was staring back at her, his beautiful green eyes infatuated with the sight of her and her heart just about beat out of her chest. Their lips were only inches from each other. It would've been so easy to just close the distance, to just give into the feelings that so many other people would warn her against. But she managed to mentally grasp onto all of her self control and keep herself from looking down at his lips again. "Let me help you?" she whispered.

Her breath on his skin felt so warm. She smelled like mint and flowers and everything good in the world. Suddenly he just wanted stay forever, like that, with her, gazing at her like the rest of the world didn't exist. But he knew it wouldn't work like that. "You could get in serious trouble hangin' 'round a street rat like me..." he replied just as quietly as her.

"Meet me out front." With that she was gone, rushing out the door and shutting it behind her, leaving the boy breathless in her wake. He groaned as he watched her go, regretting his decision to not capture her lips with his. But he did as he was told, rushing away from his white prison and to the front of the building.

When Katherine walked out of the room and looked at him, David was on his feet in seconds. He watched as she walked with purpose to the entrance. "It May have been a while," he said, slightly out of breath as he tried to keep up with her quick stride, "but I know that look. What are you into now?"

"You're right, David," she stated without much else explanation. "I got it bad and thanks to you, my father's gonna kill me."

With a laugh as a response, all David could reply with was, "When is he not, Kathy?" And with that, they all but ran to the exit.

It was freezing outside. For once Jack might've been grateful for he menace they called Spot Conlon. The leather jacket he wore was warmer than anything he'd ever owned. And while he was sure that it was stolen, he couldn't quite find it in himself to care. He pulled the soft hood over his head, hoping no one would recognize him. He tried to ignore everything around him. He was out front, looking for Katherine when he saw a familiar face he wished he didn't have to see at that moment.

An ambulance pulled into the ER parking spot and out the back of it, a frail boy was pulled onto a stretcher and was rushed away. Jack didn't have to look to hard to recognize his baby brother. "Racer..." he breathed, his heart breaking at the sight of all the blood that covered the child. He was unable to keep the tears off of his face. But as his little, precious broken brother was rushed away, he wiped at his face, desperate to make it all stop. It was his fault. It had to be. He hadn't even been there to protect him or stop his even littler brother from making a heartbreaking, awful mistake. And while he knew both of his boys were strong and smart, he also knew that he wanted to be with them. But he was only one person. And at that moment, he had to make a choice he never wanted to make.

A car pulled up in front of him and Jack wasted no time climbing in be back before feeling the car jerk forward and speed out of the parking lot. "Geez Plumba', what are ya? A get away driva'?" he teased sarcastically. He looked up jut in time to see the most beautiful smirk he'd ever seen. When her eyes met his, he felt a spark inside of him and she laughed.

"I have my secrets, Mr. Kelly..." she stated cryptically, glancing over at Davey in the passenger's seat and catching his smirk as well. But Jack didn't seem to care. "Where to?"

"The police station," he replied without hesitation. And Davey twisted around in his seat, shocked that of all places that's where Jack wanted to be. But the boy did not elaborate in any way. He only nodded in confirmation when Katherine gave his a puzzled look in the review mirror.

"Alright, but once we're done, we're gettin' ya back to a hospital. Ya look like hell, Jackie..." Davey stated, his brown eyes moving back to focus on the road ahead of them, leaving Jack to reach up and wipe at his tears again. He was sure they were almost dry. But he didn't notice if the girl driving caught sight of that horrible moment where Jack had realized that he couldn't stop this.

He couldn't stop any of it.

Chapter Text

Screams. That was all that could be heard throughout the halls of the building. Terrible, strangled cries practically echoed off the walls, rattling his brain as he sprinted as fast as he could. It wasn't as if May could run any faster. Not even when he swore he heard something snap as he rushed down the hallway.

It was like a nightmare, the ones where the road was never ending and the destination was neither getting any closer nor any further. Angry tears pricked at the back of the man's eyes. He forced them back, clenching his jaw tight and biting back the words that wished to spill from his lips as he heard the cries continue. Someone was begging. One of his kids sounded beyond petrified, pleading for a monster to just leave him alone. He wouldn't. The screams tore through the apartment building and no one was doing a damn thing about it. And it only got worse when May neared the door.

"Damn it!" he cried when he finally reached the door. It was locked. Of course it was locked. No one should have the gall to interrupt a well known detective while he exploited his powers and took his anger out on helpless, innocent children. "Snyder, open the door!" He could barely hear himself over the wails and the shrieks and the thuds.

He needed in. He needed to make it stop, it had to stop. It was Race. May knew it was Race screaming and begging for relief, he recognized the voice that was cracking and giving out as it cried for relief. The boy was in pain and May couldn't stop it. All he could do was try to throw his body against the door, hoping the thing would just give way to him and let him stop the screams. He just needed to stop the screams.

Bang.

Everything inside of May stopped. The world froze for a moment as scenarios rushed through his brain like a wildfire, burning up everything it could while panic set in. "No..." he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief when the clear sound of a gunshot made the cries stop completely. "No no no no no no!" he rambled, knowing whatever had just happened was done and there was no taking it back. So the former detective clenched his fists and took a step back, kicking the door in like and only watching for a second when the thing split in two, slamming back into the wall and revealing a scene May prayed was just a dream.

It all had to be a dream. It all had to be some kind of nightmare.

"Christopher..." the man whispered, out of breath and out of calm.

The boy looked so angry. May swore he'd never seen that boy so angry before. That boy was an optimist. That boy was always smiling. That boy was sunshine trapped in human form.

Apparently even sunshine had its limits.

"Buddy... it's me... it's just me, May... can you hear me?" Nothing. No response. Just a little boy seething and refusing to lower his weapon, instead set on keeping it pointed at his enemy's head as May took a tentative step closer. "Hey... I need you to say something, kiddo... I need to know you're listening, alright?"

Gasps were heard. Pained, awful gasps and whimpers and groans that wouldn't stop. The man risked a glance over at the scene he wished beyond anything he could unsee. The blood was everywhere. Snyder... a man he used to call his partner... was bleeding out, right there on the ground. The bullet hole in his back was causing the red to pool around him as he lay lifeless on the ground. But he wasn't the one fighting for air. Oh no. That was the boy, curled up in a ball at the man's head, mere inches from the monster that had just been beating him, nose bloodied, possibly broken, left arm at an odd angle, red marks- soon to be bruises- littered on every possible sighting of skin. There were cuts across the boy's arms and legs, slicing through his clothing like a knife... like the pocketknife that was dropped in the corner. Like the pocketknife that May recognized immediately.

It was safe to say the boy couldn't speak, much less try and move as he clutched at his ribs that May suspected were cracked at the very least. "Don't move, Anthony... I'll be right there... we'll get you an ambulance," he promised quickly, switching his focus back to the danger just beyond the front door.

Crutchie was shaking. Tremors wracked his entire body and every muscle seemed to be tensed as he refused to take his bright green eyes off of the body on the ground. His finger hovered over the trigger, ready to end it all. That was what scared May the most. This boy was about to throw his life away. He didn't deserve this. No one deserved this. "Christopher... Crutchie, give me the gun, kid..." he pleaded gently, knowing neighbors were starting to gather around behind him. The screams were something they could ignore, but apparently a gunshot topped a child's helpless cries. "I'm trying to help you, but you have to give me the gun..."

The boy was livid, still breathing hard and glaring at the man laying facedown on the ground. He looked to be having some kind of internal debate. "Please, Chris... don't do this..."

Out of the corner of his eye, May caught sight of Race squirming around, letting out pitiful whines and whimpers as he did so, trying to speak or help or do anything to just make it all stop. "Race... you have to stay still, okay?" the chief warned, not wanting to take his eyes off of Crutchie as he still held the pistol between his palms ready to let off another round. "Hey... Crutchie... I wanna help your brother, okay? But you have to put the gun down..." he coaxed, raising up his hands as his feet took him closer to the child in front of him. "Come here... we can both help Race if you put the gun down..."

Tears were streaming down Crutchie's cheeks. His entire face was soaked and he still held the weapon high, so angry and so shaken. "You're gonna help him too, ain't ya?" he asked in a breath. May's heart broke. "He is gonna go ta the hospital and get all better while me and my brothers get separated and beat all ova' again..." he seethed, squaring up his shoulders. There was a sort of determination in his eyes. It almost killed May to think that the boy looked so much like Jack in that moment, standing up tall and not backing down. He wished these were different circumstances.

"I'm trying to help you, bud... but you have to help me first..." A cry escaped the boy still trying to breathe on the floor across the room and May saw Crutchie's eyes widen at the noise, his gaze shifting to his brother rather than his attacker. "Chris... give me the gun and you can go to him while we wait for an ambulance, okay? But you have to give me the gun." They were all so goddamn stubborn. All three of them. But when it came to keeping each other safe, that took priority and May knew that.

"He was gonna kill him, May..." came a small sob as the boy was unsure whether to continue being angry or to just give into the fear that was so clearly coursing through his entire body. "He w's really gonna do it, this time..." The gun was lowered when the heavy sobs started flowing and the child hung his head low, letting the chief of police run up and gently remove the pistol from his grasp. May knew there were still people gathered around, confused and ignorant. He didn't understand how these people didn't know. These people who had heard the screams before and not done a damn thing about it.

"Get back to your homes, all of you!" he demanded, dismantling the weapon and slowly taking the shaken boy into his arms, pulling him closer and closer to Race who was still trying to squirm around, only causing himself more and more pain. "It's okay! It's okay, Race... calm down..."

May let Crutchie lean into him and the boy used him as a crutch until he could collapse at his brother's side, hands shakily hovering above the older kid's body before one of them felt safe landing in the beaten child's blond curls. "Stay down, Race... it's okay..."

"H'rts..." the older boy croaked. There was blood on his lips that May profusely hoped was just from the blood still gushing from the kid's nose or a simple bite of the tongue. "Crutch-" His voice cut off with a cough and May gently lay a hand down on the kid's chest, holding him down as he reached for his phone and dialed three numbers as quickly as he could.

"Yes! I need two ambulances!" His words were rushed. He stumbled over words as he blinked back tears watching the boy in front of him try to get a grip on reality. As much as he didn't want to, as much as he wanted to keep his eyes on Anthony and run hands through his hair and tell him everything would be alright, as much as he wanted to hold his boys right then, he knew he had to turn around. He knew the monster behind him would bleed out if he didn't do something soon. And, much like the young boy who he'd just talked down, he couldn't exactly figure out if he wanted to save that man at that moment. A man who had saved his life more than once in the field and a man who he'd trusted everything to. A man who had put on a show for the world. But when he looked up to the child sobbing over his brother, he realized that he wasn't about save that man for his sake; it was for the sake of the child who didn't deserve to spend time behind bars for the murder of the demon who'd trapped him for years.

"Keep him awake, Christopher. They're on their way!" he spoke, his heart torn in pieces when he turned away slipped out of his jacket to put pressure on Snyder's back. "Don't die on me, bastard," he hissed at the other man, clenching his teeth together and shaking his head. "If that boy has to go to prison for you..." he didn't know. He didn't have a threat. After all, if the man was dying there was nothing more he could actually do. He'd never forgive Snyder regardless for anything he'd done to the precious kids he'd taken in so long ago. But this was beyond cruel. And so help him, if Anthony died... he just wouldn't know what to do with himself. He'd never forgive himself. Not for any of this.

"May, he's falling asleep!" Crutchie shrieked behind him in a panic. The chief turned around without removing his hand from his head detective's back. Race was fading and everyone could tell. The kid was still struggling for air and was not responding to the rushed whispers that Crutchie was breathing into his ear.

"C'mon Tony... stay awake! Just a little longer..." he begged, leaning his forehead against his big brother's and letting his tears fall onto Race's cheeks. Neither of them seemed to care.

"Higgins, you have to breathe, okay? We're gonna get you to a hospital! You're gonna see Medda and Jack-" May started, but he was cut off by the boy.

"Kelly?" he asked quietly, his bright blue eyes barely opening up and glancing around, possibly expecting his big brother to be there to comfort him.

"Yeah, buddy... Kelly. You wanna see him, right?" May barely got a small hum in response. "He's gonna be there. You're gonna see him soon, but you have to stay awake, kid! Can you do that for him? He wants to see you!"

"B't... 't h'rts..."

"I know! I know... but you have to stay awake!" May pleaded, not wanting to take his eyes off of the bloodied child.

"C'mon, Race... I need ya... please stay with me..."

There had never been a more terrifying ten minutes of May's life. One of his kids was slipping. Another one of his kids was already in the hospital. The other, May knew, was now facing juvenile detention, possibly just plain prison, for shooting a detective who might've killed his brother if he hadn't.

"Hang on... just hang on, it'll all be alright..." he said, finally giving up and moving over towards the boys, letting himself run hands through Race's hair and whisper quiet nothings to him, begging him to focus on breathing.

It had to be alright.

"Freeze!" Oh this couldn't be good.

"Don't shoot!" May commanded, just about to explain what happened. Or a version of what happened. If he just told them it was him maybe they could avoid everything else. Maybe Crutchie wouldn't have to go through hell and struggle with this for the rest of his life. But before another word could leave his lips-

"I'm sorry! I had ta do it! I'm so sorry!"

May sighed, shaking his head as he took a moment to let his head rest in his hands. He wouldn't cry, not when a little boy was huddled in the chair in front of him, sitting in the middle of a police station full of people that didn't or couldn't understand why he'd done what he'd done. He knew they were glaring at him, ready to throw some choice words at him for trying to kill their head detective, a man they so blindly looked up to as if he was some kind of saint.

He didn't want to look up. If he looked up he'd see a fourteen year old boy, torn between sorrow, panic and anger. He'd have to listen to the child begging to see his big brothers, who he was anxious without. He'd have to come to terms with the fact that both of them were here instead of at the hospital, waiting for Jack and Race to be okay again.

"He was gonna kill my brotha'..." Crutchie let out shakily. The boy was long out of tears. "Don't that count for somethin'?"

"Yes, Christopher!" May assured quickly, his head shooting up. The boy flinched at the sudden loud response, but did not move from the tight ball he had placed himself in across from the chief's desk in his big office. "It does... you did this to protect someone else's life, but this isn't going to be simple for everyone else! You have to understand that!"

"I don't understand that!" Crutchie's hands gripped at his hair. He didn't. He didn't understand how this could possibly be so complicated for such brilliant people. A man had been hovering over a boy who could do nothing to defend himself, spitting out insults as the kid begged for him to stop. The monster had been about strike again and again until that boy could no longer breathe. And Crutchie had the opportunity to make it stop. It was either the man's life or his brothers. It. Was. Not. Complicated. Not in anyway. "He..." God, he'd never told anybody... he'd never been able to speak of the awful things that had happened in that godawful apartment that most certainly had to be hell.

"He whipped Jack, May... n' that wasn't the first time, neither... he makes us clean f'r him and cook f'r him n' sometimes he didn't let us eat!" It was coming, spilling from his lips like the vomit that he'd been holding back since he'd seen his brothers bleeding on the ground. "Me an' Jack n' Race share one bed... we gotta sneak out the windows some mornin's because when Snyder comes back, sometimes he's still drunk. He's angrier when he's drunk. Does stupid things like try ta hit Jack's head 'gainst the table and tries ta see how long Race can go unda' wata' without breathin'..." Crutchie buried his face in his arms that rest atop his knees as absolutely everything started coming out. "Race has ta go gamble sometimes f'r money because we ain't eaten in so long that I can't walk no more..."

The words were so hard to hear. Truly, May could hardly stomach that. The games that Snyder had played while intoxicated, the way he blatantly ignored the boys otherwise... how had he missed it? How had he been so blinded by a performance that he'd let these boys continue going home to that godforsaken place? "Buddy... why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't any of you speak up?"

With a bitter, dismantled kind of laugh, the boy barely lifted his head so May could see his eyes, broken and shattered as they were. "Mr. Wiesel, tol' Jack when we's moved in that this was our last shot... the system don' like how much me n' Race look up ta him... they think 's dang'rous..."

"And Mr. Wiesel didn't know what was going on with Mr. Snyder?" May asked curiously, processing the information. It made sense. He'd heard about things like that before. That didn't make it right. To look up to the only person that really protected them? Yeah, that was normal and there was nothing wrong with that.

Again, a bitter laugh escaped the boy who was too terrified to let go of the barrier he'd placed around himself. His arms were around his knees that were pulled up against his chest and his head was ducked down, ready to block any blows anyone tried to inflict on him. "Weasel ain't no saint, May... he helped the Spida'..."

It was like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him. He hadn't had a clue and there was no excuse for it. His boys were in pain, scared to death and May hadn't even noticed. What kind of a monster was he? "Chris... I-"

The shriek of the phone on his desk caused May to stop, rolling his eyes and quickly picking up the thing, bringing to his ear with a slightly annoyed and very much uninterested, "May," before a voice started frantically speaking on the other line. "He what?" Crutchie watched the man's eyes widen as he stood, looking down at his desk as he listened to whatever the person was saying with sudden panic. "No no! I'll be right there. He couldn't have gone far. Thank you!" Then the man hung up, grabbing his jacket. Crutchie sat up a little straighter, trying to wait for some kind of explanation before the man before him froze as his eyes landed on the door. The boy furrowed his eyebrows, following the man's gaze and letting his green eyes widen when he saw who was standing there.

Jack pulled the soft hood of the jacket he wore off of his head, revealing his messy brown hair and terrified, big, forest green eyes. He looked a bit out of breath and he was hunched over just slightly, likely still in pain. "Are you okay?" he breathed, locking in on his baby brother who completely broke at the words. All the little boy could do was shake his head and let Jack rush over to him and wrap him up, holding him close to his chest and running hands down his back and through his hair. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry I wasn't there..."

"Jack... you's supposed to be at the hospital..." Crutchie sobbed, clutching onto the back of the leather jacket that Jack definitely should not have had. He didn't ask. He didn't think he could even form the words.

"Nah..." Jack assured lightly, pulling away so he could hold the boy's face in his hands and brush away the tears on his face, doing his best to ignore the blood on his shirt and the horror struck in his eyes. "I's supposed ta be right here, with you."

"Jack... you should be resting," May tried, rounding his giant desk to kneel down beside his boys. "How did you know he was here?" When Jack just looked up at him, his lips pressed together and his eyes stubbornly guarded, May knew not to press.

"Hey..." Jack whispered, desperately wanted to stop more tears from falling down his brother's cheeks. His brothers cried far too often. He just wanted to see them okay again. He just wanted to see them happy again. "Did he hurt you?"

"No-o..." Crutchie replied, lowering his head and leaning back on Jack's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the older boy's neck. "Just Race..."

"He'll be okay, pal... you'll be okay... we're gonna get through this, ya understand?" Jack couldn't resist. Despite the burning of his back and the pounding in his head, he scooped up his baby brother into his arms and let the younger boy's legs wrap around his waist so he could just hold onto him as tightly as he could. "I gotchu, kid... it's all okay..."

"Race could barely breathe, Jack..."

May could see Jack's eyes water even more when the child said that. They were both so scared it hurt. "He's strong, Crutchie... he's gonna be okay..." Because Race had to be okay. Race was going to be okay because if he wasn't there would be no telling what would happen. Jack would go insane and Crutchie would finally snap. After all these years, the boy who always found the good was finally beginning to be crushed by the weight of the bad and Jack couldn't handle that.

"I shot him... I coulda killed him..." Crutchie whispered against his brother's shoulder, burying his face further in the crook of Jack's neck. "I don't feel guilty, Jack..." and that was what terrified him the most. "I keep tryin' ta feel somethin'... I wanna feel bad about it... why can't I feel nothin'?!"

"Shshshshsh..." Jack soothed, holding on even tighter as his brother cling to him, wondering why he didn't feel bad about killing a man who'd been torturing him for years in absolutely any way he could. "Breathe, pal... just breathe..."

Breathe. It was so hard to breathe. Not even just for that boy, but for all of them. Because they all knew what was coming. Crutchie wasn't just any other person trying to defend himself or his family. He was a foster kid. Jack had fought a long time ago to keep his family together. But it couldn't last forever.

"May..." Jack whispered out, turning to face the man, the only person now who could help them. "What's gonna happen ta us?" He was so scared. He was petrified beyond belief. And all the man could do was shake his head.

"I don't know, buddy..." he admitted solemnly, shaking his head as he reclaimed his seat at his desk. "I don't know..."

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. It was bright and it was hot and everything hurt.

He wasn't used to the pain. Alcohol would make it go away. He needed a drink. A drink would fix it.

"He was gonna kill him, May..."

He was. He still didn't stop himself.

"Can you hear me?!"

There was so much shouting around him. Everything spun and he couldn't even open his eyes to watch it whirl.

It was hard to keep track of where things had gone downhill.

This was their fault. The little bastards where only supposed to stay for a few weeks. He was fine before they showed up.

"One good deed cancels out a bad one..."

He hated them. They made his life more complicated from the start. Put on a great show, they did, but it didn't stop the burning rage he felt for them when they were behind closed doors. He couldn't remember when it started or when it got worse. He could remember watching them be ushered into his house for the first time. He could remember them flinching at every touch. He could remember the words his old friend had said to him before leaving them.

"They're what I like ta call 'troubles'," Wiesel explained, glaring down at them like they had been badmouthing him the whole way there. At least the oldest one. The one that held the two littler one's close. "They have a problem with discipline. They's been pushed 'round a lot but I can't say they weren't asking for it."

He knew the signs of abuse. He wasn't an idiot.

"Mr. Snyder, try and relax!"

He knew the kind of abuse, too. Each one of them was only slightly different. They'd been separated. Different marks from different people.

Physical abuse was the clearest on the older one. Bruises were all over him. He still had a split lip and a swollen eye. His lips were pressed firmly together. He was a quick learner and a fierce protector. He bit his tongue because he wasn't scared of getting hit. He was scared of getting them hit.

The same kind of bruises were seen on the blue eyed boy to the eldest's right. A cut was left on his temple and his jaw had a fading bruise on it. But that wasn't what the trained eye caught. He caught the baggy clothes and the hunched posture and the way he was so wary of wandering hands.

Again, physical abuse was clear on the littlest. The one with the twisted up leg and the crutch under his arm. But there was more than that. He looked ashamed of his disabilities as he tried to hide the evidence behind him and the other boys.

There wasn't supposed to be three of them. He'd only agreed to one. He guessed it was supposed to be the oldest. Jack Kelly, thirteen, run away from two homes. That was supposed to be all he could handle. But here he was, his old pal, three kids instead of one.

"Mr. Snyder you have to stay awake!"

Kids had never been in the plan. He didn't want them. He just wanted the investigation off his back.

He'd be a lousy father anyways.

He needed a drink. That would make it all go away. He just needed a drink.

"Kelly! Get me a drink."

He didn't understand why everything was white. It was all so bright. It just kept getting brighter and brighter and brighter.

Until everything went black.

He couldn't move. He was tied down- no. Not tied down. He didn't get tied down anymore, not like that. He was with Jack. He was with Jack and Jack wouldn't let him be tied down like that. Jack would protect him. Everything was going to be okay.

Only it didn't feel like it. He felt jumpy, like he wanted to be panicking. Everything hurt. A groan escaped his lips as he tried desperately to force his eyes open. He couldn't. It hurt. He had a sinking suspicion that they were both swollen shut. What had he done this time?

He couldn't remember, really. Everything was sort of a blur and the parts he could remember made him shutter. He remembered the sound of flesh against flesh; a fair fight if he'd been allowed to fight back. Only it hadn't stopped there. He remembered the snap of a belt attacking his exposed skin; not a fair fight. He had nothing to defend himself with. He remembered the knife. He remembered his blood running cold. He remembered trying to roll away. He remembered the blade rushing towards his side.

He remembered screaming.

He remembered a bang.

He wanted Crutchie.

He wanted to move. More than anything in the world he wanted to stand, to run. Run far away maybe. Maybe to Jack's perfect place, the place he'd been promising to take them for years so they could get away from this place that so many wanted to call home.

They called it hell.

Voices made themselves known somewhere in the room. Race tried to keep himself from panicking. Blindness wasn't something he could easily adapt to. "Kelly?" It should've been a scream; a desperate plea for his brother to be there to hold his hand and tell him everything was okay. All that came out was a muffled moan.

Tears started spilling down his cheeks, finding their way down from the boy's swollen eyes and soaking his face. He wanted to wipe them away. If Snyder saw him crying he'd be a goner for sure. He couldn't help but let out a choked sob when he couldn't lift his arms. It was happening again. He was tied down. He was alone. He was hurt. And no one was coming to save him.

"Hey, hey, hey, kid... don't move, okay? I'm gonna call in a nurse. You're alright..." someone soothed. It wasn't Jack. So Race panicked even more.

"I can't move!" he tried. "Let me out! Please! I don' wan' it!" He could hardly understand what he was trying to say. Something was stopping the sound from getting too far and he didn't like it. "Where's my brotha'?! Please! I wan' my brothers!"

"Anthony, it's alright! You're safe! You're in the hospital!"

He couldn't breathe. He wasn't alright. Nothing was alright. "I wan' Jack! Where's my brothers?"

"We're gonna have to sedate him, sir. He's gonna hurt himself." He didn't like the voice. He didn't like the idea. He just wanted out.

"Just let me try to calm him down. He's scared and his family isn't here..." He didn't know who it was. His mind couldn't grasp onto the vaguely familiar voice because he only wanted to hear Jack, screaming at everyone to back off until they allowed the older boy to crawl over to him and cradle him in his arms.

But Jack wasn't here. If Jack was here, Race would feel a hand in his hair. If Jack was here, Race would hear a whispered voice in his ear. If Jack was here, it wouldn't all seem so scary. "Anthony... can you hear me?" The boy whimpered at the voice, trying to turn away. He just wanted away. His head hurt, his throat hurt even more and he couldn't open his eyes. He wanted so badly to just be able to see. "Higgins, no one is here to hurt you... were only trying to help you..." Race could feel the breath on his ears making him flinch, only causing his head to throb in pain. "Hey, take a breath... I know you want your brothers, but right now you have to calm down..."

The voice grew more and more familiar as he actually began to listened to it. He knew who it was. He wished he didn't, but he did. "Mr. Kloppman?"

Race didn't know the man who was here. And the man here didn't know him. So why was that man here?

"Take a deep breath, kiddo... it's okay. Jack's on his way. He'll be here soon..." Despite the instinct not to trust, Race felt himself heaving in as much air as he could in order to let out another sob, simply wanting to cry more when he felt the scratches in his throat.

Race remembered screaming.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to be laying in a hospital. He didn't want to be in the presence of a complete stranger being unable to defend himself at all. He just wanted Jack.

Without his consent, even as he continued to sob, slow and quietly, hands began touching him. His exposed skin burned, more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. In a moment of pure desperation the boy called out, "Mr. Kloppman please don't let them touch me... please make it stop..."

He must've said it clear enough this time. The mask couldn't hide his pleas this time. "Hey, hey, hold on a second. You're scaring him..."

Before Race could say anything else, cold air hit the area surrounding his lips. Someone was lifting the mask. Someone was trying to understand him. "Please..." the child croaked out. "Don't let 'em touch me... I j'st wan' m' broth'rs..."

"They're coming... I promise they're coming. These people are just trying to help you," Kloppman tried to explain. But Race just shook his head, noting that the throb only got worse when he did so.

"I don't like 'em touchin' me... please don' let 'em..."

In all honesty, the teacher did not know what to do. The boy in front of him was beyond petrified and all he was asking was for the nurses to stop touching him. They were just trying to help, truly. Kloppman knew that. But he could understand why the touch wouldn't be welcome at that moment. It only took a quick glance. So the man gently put the mask back down and gave the child a small, sad smile. "Just... is there any way you could make sure everything's normal without touching him?"

With a sigh and a shrug the nurse simply did as he was told, doing his best to check over the injured child without laying a hand on him. "Thank you..." Kloppman smiled, before letting his eyes drop back down to the boy in front of him. The poor kid was a wreck. His left arm was completely broken, wrapped up to his elbow in a big white cast, his left ankle was badly sprained, swollen to almost twice the size it should be, and his side... the minute Kloppman had heard the word stabbed he'd felt nauseous.

He shouldn't be here, he knew that. But he'd been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for three hours now, watching over this boy who was all alone at the moment with no one to help him calm down when he woke up. He was a teacher. His student was in trouble. What else was he supposed to do?

When the door creaked open again, the old man twisted in his seat to catch a glimpse of the dark colored woman that he'd become a bit aquatinted with before. "Oh baby... you're awake..."

The boy mumbled out something through his mask, possibly the woman's name, as he tried to turn his head towards the probably more familiar voice. He knew the child was scared of him. Anyone with eyes could see that. He didn't like it. This boy deserved to have people who would look out for him instead of beat him until he was black and blue every time he made the tiniest mistake.

"Thank you, Todd... for staying with him..."

"Of course, Miss Larkin," Kloppman replied easily, watching as Medda pulled another chair up beside Race who still looked to be sobbing a bit. He was so desperate to fight his eyes open. It was clear he did not like the dark. "I trust you got some rest?"

"As much as I could manage after staying for Jack and being up for six hours after I was allowed to see this one," she explained bitterly. Race had never heard Medda sound so angry in his entire life. He supposed she had a right to be. But Race was the one that deserved to be here, laying in the hospital. Jack wasn't supposed to get hurt. He never was. "How's he doin' doc? Is he alright?" the kind woman asked. Race had forgotten about the man till then, just waiting for someone to make him pass out again. He would rather be asleep than be in a room with two strangers. Even if Medda was there.

"He looks to be doing just fine, but he needs plenty of rest at the moment. It would be easier for him to get some if he was a little more relaxed."

Medda nodded. Carefully, she leaned forward and whispered out, "Hey baby... is it okay if I hold your hand?"

The way she had to ask made Kloppman even more nervous. This boy was fifteen years old. He should be out being reckless with his friends, rebelling against his parents, figuring out what he was going to do about his future. Instead, as far as the man understood, he was constantly trying to shield himself and his brothers from being beaten time and time again by the man who was supposed to be raising them and giving them warmth and protection from the world.

He watched the child nod only slightly, still tense about the touch but willing to try for this woman. She slowly slid his palm into her own and rubbed circles around on his skin with her thumb, allowing a small smile to take over her face when he didn't pull away.

He knew what he wanted to do. He just prayed to God he could do it right.

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know, Katherine... something bad enough for Jack to not want us there."

Katherine snorted. "I'm pretty sure Jack didn't really want us there in the first place," she countered, letting her chin rest in her hand as she stared out into the street in front of them. They used to play here, her and her old friend. Right out there in the front yard. She missed it.

"Well, that certainly didn't stop you," David smirked, nudging the girl with his soldier.

"Me?" Katherine laughed. "What about you? I think he probably told you to get lost a lot quicker than he told me to." She glanced over to see the boy placing a hand over his chest and looking very mockingly offended.

"Only because I met him first and he clearly thinks you're pretty!" It was true. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't find him incredibly attractive too. But that wasn't what she needed to be thinking right now.

"We did the right thing, right? Do you think they'll be okay?"

"Katherine, if you hadn't cornered me and forced me to spill what was going on, they'd all still be with that guy, probably getting even more hurt." David didn't think he could handle the screams again. He'd only heard them for a few days before they'd all become too much. And now, because he'd said something, another boy was laying in a hospital bed, beaten and bloodied because some maniac was angry that he was about to get caught. But it was over now. It had to be over now. From what he'd heard, the sobs and panicked words of a teenager who'd been through too much, that man was going down. Maybe for good.

"I should probably get goin' before your dad sees me, huh?"

With a groan, Katherine shook her head. "I've been home alone for the past two weeks. Dad's been out of town and I hate being in the house by myself! It makes me feel like I'm gonna be stuck here forever."

"Well, hey... Les and my parents are at my Grandparents house. They were supposed to be back by now, but Les convinces them to stay longer." His little brother was always a persuasive kid. "He misses his old room, apparently. He does not like our new apartment."

A laugh escaped Katherine at that. "Sounds like Les..." she nodded, standing up and sighing as she glanced around, trying to think of anything she could do or say to get their minds off of all of life's problems. That's when an idea hit her. "What do you say we go into my house, and do something we haven't done in two years?"

The grin that spread onto the boy's face was priceless. Katherine has missed him. He'd missed her too.

"Everything-But-The-Kitchen-Sink-Sunday?"

Nodding as the rushed towards the door, she squealed in excitement. "Everything-But-The-Kitchen-Sink-Sunday!"

And for the first time in a long time, the two old friends felt like kids all over again. But somewhere in the back of their minds, they knew that there were three boys who wished they could all be doing the same thing. And they wished they could help them do just that.

Jack was about to rip his hair out, he was gripping onto it so hard. It was the one thing he'd been trying to prevent, the one thing that would break him, the one thing he couldn't handle.

They were going to be separated. It hadn't been said. But Jack was young, he wasn't stupid. It was bound to happen now. And he didn't know what to do. He couldn't even try to convince anyone that his brothers needed him at this point. It was clear he'd done a lousy job of protecting them. But that didn't stop his burning need to be by their side, trying his best to shield them from the fists and the belts and the screams and the slurs. He couldn't let them get hurt anymore. He couldn't watch them bleed out and scream in pain anymore.

"Jackie, you have to take a breath, alright? We're gonna figure this out..."

That only made Jack feel even worse. Figure this out... It meant May didn't know what to do either. It meant that the boy still locked inside the chief of police's office was still bound to be questioned for a crime that he was forced to commit. It meant that the boy laying in the hospital alone would be scared for too much longer than he should be. It meant that Jack was losing them and he wasn't even getting a say. He raised them. They were his. That was all that should've mattered.

"I'm scared, May... last time we were separated..." Jack could hardly finish. He dusted at his cheeks, staring blankly out the window of the car that he sat in. They weren't moving, Manhattan traffic and all that... he felt so far away from both of his brothers in that moment. He just wanted to hold onto both of them so tightly and never let go. "Last time we were separated... I couldn't stop them from gettin' hurt. Race don't like bein' touched by people n' Crutchie don't even remember it. Every time I ask him about it... he can't even think of it. I don't want 'em ta go through that again..."

The "I can't trust people no more" part went unsaid. But May heard it anyways. Jack didn't want to go through it again. He'd been through too many foster homes. They all had. People pretended to care and then tossed them back to the rats. He wanted so badly to fix this. He wanted so badly for it all to be okay.

He could fix this. He had to fix this. But he couldn't do it alone.

"I'll figure it out, Kelly. I promise..."

Chapter Text

Todd Kloppman was a man who understood that life was peculiar. Sometimes, moments arose and there were choices to make. Hard, big choices that were anything but small. Sometimes life presented life altering opportunities that were okay to take.

This was one of those moments.

"I'll take one of them," he stated clearly, knowing that the chief hadn't even been speaking to him. Knowing that he was just venting to Miss Medda about how he didn't know what to do next. Both of them turned to look to him, confused and a little shocked. Neither of them spoke. So the teacher continued. "I... I can take Anthony. I can teach him how to read. He'd be able to continue at the same school and his brothers could come see him all the time. I could take care of him, May..."

Still, everyone seemed to be frozen. The chief of police had simply been trying to convey that these boy's couldn't live in the same home anymore. The system wouldn't allow it. They were "too troublesome" together, or something to that affect. May hadn't cared to truly figure out the real reason. None of it made sense. But his boys needed homes. Good ones. And he could only take one of them.

The thought of the other two going to homes he didn't know terrified him to no end.

"Mr. Kloppman... I... uhm-"

"I think that a brilliant idea, Todd!" Medda exclaimed, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the teacher who could only smile and hug her back, just as tightly. There was something about an embrace from an old friend that calmed his nerves. He opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of the other man behind the woman in his arms. It didn't take a genius to see the hesitance in those eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out why is was there either. All one needed to see were two boys behind the door across the hall. Anyone would be hesitant to let those kids out of a large protection of bubble wrap and soft fabrics, let alone into a stranger's home. But it was something that had to be done. And they all knew it.

Pulling back from Miss Medea's warm embrace, Kloppman took a few small steps closer to the man who was falling apart at the seams. "Look... these kids need a place to go... I'm already registered as a foster parent. He'll be safe... I'll keep him safe, I promise..."

May felt like he couldn't breathe. He'd never experienced the inability to trust. He'd always prided himself in being able to read people. He could always see a guilty man a mile away. Now... now it was like the whole world was a mystery to him. Anyone could be anything and he might never see it coming. "You swear you'll be gentle with him?"

A soft smile took over the teacher's face. "I'll be as careful as I can be," he nodded, glancing towards that door. "I know it won't be easy, May. I know that kid's been through hell. They all have. But I want to help them. If I can't help all of them, at least let me help one of them," he all but begged. The second that little boy had walked into his classroom he'd known something was off. He just wanted to help. Even if it meant opening his house up again after years of living alone. Even if it meant nights of not sleeping because of the nightmares that would surely plague that boy's dreams. Even if it meant having to continuously wake up at five in the morning to cook breakfast for a kid who rarely had proper meals. He'd do it. Because life had presented him an opportunity. And he'd be daft not to take it.

A whirlwind of emotions soared through the other man's veins. He wanted so desperately to trust this man with Anthony; Anthony who hardly stepped within a few yards of another man besides him. The boy was terrified. Traumatized, more like. And May hated to do this to him. He truly did. But, if Anthony went with Kloppman, he'd learn to read. He might learn how to accept touch again from more than just May who he'd only trusted after so many horrifying events that led up to this.

With a small nod, May swallowed hard and placed his hands on his hips. "I will check in on him at least once a week," he decided, clearing his through as his voice came out watery and shaken. "You need to keep a close eye on him. If you find any cigarettes or drugs or alcohol on him at any point, you call me immediately. I need to know if he's actually used any of it before anyone accuses him of anything," he shouted out quickly, catch a look of sorrow and a hint of fear flash across Kloppman's kind features. "He's a good kid, Mr. Kloppman... he doesn't know it, but he is. He needs someone to show him that..."

"I intend to, Mr. May," the other man agreed immediately. "I'll take care of him. Every way I know how, I'll take care of him..."

It wasn't enough. It never would be. But May stuck out his hand anyways. They shook gruffly. "Thank you, Todd," he whispered sincerely. The teacher could only nod in response. "You'll need to talk to his new social worker. His current one is about to be arrested..."

"Bastard has it coming..." Miss Medda Larkin was never one to keep her comments to herself. May admired that. And he couldn't say he disagreed. "With all the clues he left behind he's lucky I never punched him square in the nose."

"He'll be lucky if I don't do just that the next time I see him," May agreed, though he shook his head right afterwards, crossing his arms, knowing he shouldn't be saying such things. He was the chief of police. He was supposed to be calm and cool and collected. He couldn't be. Not with all of this weighing down on his shoulders.

Medda sighed and reached to rest a hand on the man's arm, offering him one of her warm smiles. "Can I assume you'll be fostering one of them too?" she asked quietly, knowing there could be only one answer. That small nod was it as he glanced over to that room.

He was taking him. His little Jack Kelly at the very least. "I would've liked to take them all, but I know after this it'll be hard for them to stay together. Even harder for Jack to fight for custody..." he explained sadly. That was all that kid ever wanted. Everyone knew that. And now he was going to have to fight so much harder, God knows why. The world was twisted and evil and May hated that he couldn't protect them from it. "And... Christopher... I know he had to do it... but he's on thin ice, right now... I think I can get him out of doing any time as long as Snyder pulls through..."

It was a sick and twisted and evil world.

That kid had been in there for about an hour now. He looked so nervous, the poor thing. Through the windows of the chief's office, everyone could see him wiping vigorously at his tears. He was just sitting there, curled up in their boss's chair, not knowing what was about to happen and scared to death of what might be his fate.

"Darcy! Are you even listening to me?"

The man in question was rattled out of his trance. "I'm sorry... what?"

It didn't matter. He still wasn't listening. The chief had asked some of the cops around him to keep an eye on the child and his natural curiosity was getting the better of him. Truly, he didn't understand why anyone was to look after the boy. Something about the situation bothered him. He didn't even know the kid's name and he wasn't even a cop. He just happened to be in the station at the time.

He was only there to speak to someone about a current case he had. He just wanted to gather a few facts. But now... this kid was here. And Darcy couldn't help himself. "You know what, could you excuse me for one second?" he asked the officer who he happened to be speaking to. The officer gave him an odd look, but Darcy didn't care too much. He only got up from his seat and walked towards the doors of that office, not entirely sure what he was doing. He just felt as though he had to do something.

With a hesitant, small knock on the door, the man slowly pushed the thing open. The boy didn't even move. "Hi... hey there, buddy..." he started awkwardly, moving to sit down in the chair across from the kid. Still, he got no reaction. He was beginning to wonder if the kid had some kind of hearing problem or was just plain terrified. "My name's Darcy," he offered gently and slowly, catching the kid peak up over his arms that were so tightly wrapped around his knees. "Can I get you anything? Maybe a soda or a snack?"

All he got in response was a vicious shaking of the child's head. "Okay! That's okay..." Darcy soothed immediately, noting the boy's distress. "You've just been in here for a long time... I thought you might be hungry..." Still, nothing. That wasn't something uncommon for Darcy. Lots of people didn't like to talk. But he wasn't one to give up so easily. "Do you have a name, or do I get to keep calling you 'buddy'?" he asked playfully. Though the kid didn't seem to find it too amusing.

Through a mess of tears, the child was only able to get out a small mumble. "M'name's Chris..." It was so quiet it was a wonder Darcy even caught it. He smiled at the small victory.

"It's nice to meet you, Chris..." he smiled as gently as he could. The boy just buried himself back into his fetal position. Darcy felt his heart tearing to pieces. This kid was so young. "I don't mean to pry... but you look like you could use someone to talk to..." He wasn't entirely sure what would happen next. This boy didn't look like he wanted to talk, much less to a complete stranger. But Darcy couldn't stand to watch him so isolated in this room anymore. He wanted to do something. "I promise it's just you and me, Chris... what's going on?"

A small scoff escaped the child. It was soft and watery and broken. "You wouldn't understand," the boy stated naively. Darcy just scooted forward a little more in his chair and shrugged a little, folding his hands in front of him.

"Try me," he challenged lightly. He could guarantee that he'd heard it all before. There were plenty of odd, peculiar and awful things people did for no reason at all.

The boy looked up at him, a scowl clear on his face. That didn't discourage Darcy. He just nodded, urging the boy to spill because he couldn't help himself. Maybe he could even help. So, after a shake of his head and a sniffle, the child finally let the words fall from his lips. "I think I killed someone..." he muttered, his saddened anger quickly morphing into complete despair as he admitted it. His face crumpled as he thought about it, his already soaked face becoming all the more tearful.

The man had to admit, he hadn't been expecting that one. But, he didn't show it. These were things that he heard everyday. It wasn't uncommon. People kill people. It was sad, but it was true. "You killed someone, huh?" he asked, sounding almost sympathetic, but clearly shocking the boy when he wasn't completely repulsed by the news. Those green eyes shot up, waiting for the man to start shouting, accusing, even walk out in pure disgust. But he didn't. That smile stayed on his face as he nodded, looking at the ground, soaking in this new information. "Can I ask why?"

It was amusing to Darcy how this child looked at him like he was completely insane. Clearly this child thought he may never be forgiven for what he had done. It was a natural reaction. But Darcy didn't have all the facts yet. The boy fisted at his eyes for just a moment before swallowing hard. "He w's tryin' ta kill m'brother…"

Something inside the man broke. All through school he'd basically been told that emotions would only hold him back. He understood where the professors were coming from. That didn't mean he agreed. After all, who could look at this child, hear those little words and not feel their hearts crying in their chest. "I'm sorry to hear that Chris…" he offered sincerely. "Why was he trying to kill your brother?" He knew he might do well stopping. After all, this boy would more than likely have to spout out the story a million different times to a million different police officers. It didn't stop Darcy. He wanted to get every last detail of every last story. What he wanted here was to figure out why not a single officer in the entire station would step foot inside that room. He'd seen the looks they were giving the boy. Darcy just wanted to understand why.

A small sob escaped the child's lips. "I don't know… Snyder always hated him the most. N' t'day, with Jack in the hospital and May figuring it out… Everything Race did was makin' him mad!" he exclaimed, more distressed than he had ever been in his life. His heart was racing and he couldn't stop it. All he could hear was that gun going off over and over again. It would be a sound that haunted the kid till the day he died. "I saw the knife… I didn't know what else ta do… so's I shot at him…" he explained his voice still shaking as he reached up to grip onto his hair, unable to look up at this calm stranger as the sight of his bleeding big brother re-entered his mind. "I didn't think I'd actually hit him! I just… I was so angry! I couldn't-"

"Hey! Hey, Chris, it's alright," he soothed. "you did what you had to do, right? Is your brother okay?"

Again, this seemed to be the wrong question to ask. "I don't know! May said he was just taking Jack back to the hospital and he was gonna check on Race! But he's been gone for a long time n' I don't know if Mr. Snyder's even still alive! I just wanna see my brothers!"

Darcy nodded his head in understanding. "I'm really sorry about all that, buddy… had Mr. Snyder ever hit you guys before?" With a quick nod of his head, the boy answered him. Mr. Snyder… Darcy thought to himself, That name sounds familiar.It was then that it hit him. It was then he understood why no one was coming close to this child. He might've killed their head detective. "And your brothers? Did you guys ever try to tell anyone?"

Crutchie knew he was giving out more information that he ever had in his entire life. Jack and Race had always been there to stop him. Not now. Not when they were both in the hospital. "No... we... if we did they was gonna separate us... Snyder was our last chance," he explained. "Now if don't even matter... they's gonna separate us n' we don't got a say. N' I can't even see my brothers because I shot someone n'... they ain't neva' gonna look at me the same way..."

The government really didn't care. Darcy knew that. These kids were nothing in the eyes of the government. It didn't matter what happened to them. Darcy shook his head. "Hey, all you did was protect your brother. He's alive, right?"

With a small nod, the boy responded, "I... I think so..." He was breathing hard. Darcy was angry for him. No child deserved to go through this.

"Chris, you did the only thing you could... you saved your brother. You were not in the wrong and they can't put you away for that," Darcy explained. "I know that the chief won't let that happen. And now, better yet, you've got me on your side, you know what that means?" he asked quietly. But the child only looked at him with wide eyes. Anyone could see the fear frozen in them. Darcy feared what his brothers would be like after an experience like this. "It means there isn't a thing I wouldn't do to make sure that you and your brothers make it out of this okay..."

Crutchie looked at this man curiously. He didn't understand what was happening. This man was a complete stranger. He didn't take too well to strangers, but after all that had happened, spilling the whole story made it feel like a weight had been lifted from his chest. It felt good. He felt like he could breathe a little easier now. "Who are you?" he mustered up the courage to ask, fisting at his cheeks again, wishing so desperately to feel Jack's arms around him or Race's hand in his hair.

Darcy gave him another smile. "My name's Darcy Williams. I'm a lawyer."

Jack couldn't sleep. He may never sleep again. His entire world was on its side and all he could do was sit up on the thin, uncomfortable mattress they'd forced him onto and grip ever so carefully onto the uninjured hand of his baby brother who hadn't shown any sign of waking up since Jack had gotten there. The sight of the kid so still was terrifying. His pale skin and swollen eyes made Jack more worried than he'd ever been for the boy in his life.

The nurses had threatened to strap him down when May had brought him back. They'd laughed at their own words. Jack had found no humor in it. He'd glared at them as they'd left. May had told him to behave. It was bullshit. Like he'd leave his little brother when he'd seen him like this. He was just angry. He wanted both of his kid brothers, with him. But life couldn't work out that way. Why should he ever get to have that small comfort? He'd clearly never done anything to deserve it.

"You look like hell..."

The words made Jack jump, though the voice wasn't too harsh. But the second Jack looked up to that blasted window, he wished beyond everything that someone had thought to lock it. "What do ya want now?" he spat at the Brooklyn boy who couldn't seem to simply leave him alone.

To Jack's surprise, the smugness actually seemed to be wiped from the boy's face. In fact, Spot was barely even glancing up at him. His dark eyes were more drawn to the blond boy who was laying comatose in a mess of wires and a breathing mask. "Is he okay?" The question was quiet, almost nonexistent. It was so odd. Spot Conlon wasn't necessarily known for being gentle or quiet or anything to that affect. Jack did not like that it was his baby brother that made him go soft. Something about it bothered him.

"He's stable... docta's say he's gonna pull through, but the damn bastard broke his arm, sprained his ankle, stabbedhim..." Jack stared bitterly, his grip tightening around his baby brother's hand. The boy still did not wake up. He was tired. Jack could live with that. As long as those blue eyes opened up eventually.

The other boy moved closer to him. Jack gave him a warning glare, but did nothing more to stop him. Spot stopped on the other side of the child's bed. His hand moved slowly towards the boy's blond hair, but Jack shook his head. "Don't touch him," he demanded immediately. The hand froze and Jack's eyes met the Brooklyn boy's. "What do you want, Conlon?"

Spot glanced between him and Race, his lips pursed. Jack wanted him out. "I just wanted him to protect himself, Kelly... if he'd a' just done it, he wouldn't be here..."

"No... he'd be in Juvie. Or worse," Jack seethed, ready to pounce on this boy. He wasn't sure it was all the Brooklyn kid's fault. There were still so many emotions swirling around in his chest. It was so much stress. He could control this. This was something he could protect. His little brother. He could keep the kid safe. And he planned to do just that. "Get away from him, Spot. And stay away. He doesn't need you near him."

It sounded harsh. But it was true. Race was already troubled enough as it was. Spot was just too much for him. In truth, he was too much for Jack too.

"I just wanted ta make sure he was alright, okay?" he defended, watching as Jack reaches and placed his own hand in Race hair. The boy subconsciously leaned into him and Spot glared. "Look, I know I ain't the best influence, but all I want ta do is protect him-"

"You gave him a gun, Conlon!" Jack hissed, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside. "You told him to murder someone! We know damn well that the only reason you wanted Snyder dead was because he was the only close enough to exposing your little business!" Jack accused.

Spot scowled hard. Jack could see his fists clenching at his sides. "That ain't true! I ain't been a dealer in months! And I neva' touched none of it!"

Jack shook his head, finally standing to his feet. "You really think that's gonna hell your case here-" A small groan is what made Jack stop. He let his breath catch in his throat as the hand that was in his tightened. The child on the bed began to shift. Jack didn't even look back up. He only muttered the words, "Get out," before he was leaning down towards his brother,

Spot didn't argue. He watched for a moment as those two swollen eyes tried like hell to open. They couldn't. And it broke Spot's heart. But for now, all he could do was just as he was told. He shook his head as he made his way back to the window. With one last glance back at that boy, he was gone.

"Racer, ya gotta stay calm... I'm right here, you're okay..." Jack murmured quietly, running his thumb over his baby brother's forehead. "I won't let anything bad happen, I swear." He swore. Never again. He had to make this stop. He couldn't bear to see his brother in a hospital bed like this ever again. He would blame himself for the rest of his life.

The child below him made a small croaking noise beneath the mask over his face. Jack assumed it was his name. He nodded. "I'm here, kid. Right here, you're okay..." He leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. "I'm right here, you're okay," he repeated.

That was right about when the door to the room was slowly pushed open. He didn't have to look up to see May standing by silently, smiling at them. He didn't move from his position. He just continued to calm his brother and whisper quiet nothings into his ear as two more adults made their way into the room. Jack knew things were about to change. He knew that his life was going to be very different very soon.

What he didn't know exactly was how. "Don't scare him..." Jack asked, leaning closer to the child, doing his best to shield him from any danger. "He just woke up."

"That's okay, Jack... we wanted to talk to both of you about something..."

Those were the words that Jack had been dreading. He was not excited about whatever was going to happen. But he didn't say that. How could he? It wouldn't matter. Nothing did.

His life was about to change. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Chapter Text

So many thoughts whirled around in Darcy's head. He couldn't believe that he was considering this. This was crazy. He was crazy. He couldn't do this. They couldn't do this. They could barely handle themselves, and yet here he was, walking up the steps of his home, a rehearsed conversation playing over and over again in his brain as he fumbled for his keys and stepped through the door.

The smell of fresh vegetables filled the air of the small house and Darcy smiled. He didn't speak as he made his way through the living room, dropping his briefcase and blazer by the couch and making his way to the kitchen. Normally he was never so careless. Everything had its place and purpose when it came to his things. But he simply had too much on his mind to care.

Making his way to the kitchen, the young man sighed in relief. He couldn't help but smile when he saw that someone standing over the stove, making dinner. Without a word, the lawyer walked through, careful but quick as he wrapped his arms around the other young man's waist. "Hey..." he sighed, burying his head against the man's neck and pressing a kiss to it, slowly and lovingly.

"Hey, babe. How was work?"

Darcy didn't answer right away. He just closed his eyes and breathed in his partner for a moment, glancing down to see the ring that was planted on his left finger. "Bill... I did something stupid today..." he stated, feeling the man — Bill — laugh beneath his arms.

"You do something stupid everyday," he responded easily. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"You're the one who agreed to marry me," he accused, spinning the man around for just a quick moment to give him a peck on the lips.

Pulling away, Bill smiled at him."Obviously, I was after your money," he stated with a shrug. Darcy laughed immediately, shaking his head. Bill's family was richer than his. Money had never made a difference to either of them. Not even a little. "One can never have too much money, dearest." The smirk on the man's face only made Darcy fall in love a little bit more every time he caught a glimpse of it.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Darcy stole another kiss before letting his fiancé turn back to continue making dinner. "Says the man who wanted to go backpacking across Europe with no money to help him out if he got lost..." he muttered in reply, quickly ducking out of reach of a spoon swung at him. He laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the tie around his neck and began to loosen in, moving over towards the small island of their kitchen and leaning back against it, letting his body relax even slightly. He knew if he sat down, there would be no getting back up. He couldn't sit down yet.

With a shake of his head, Bill just sent a glare back in his partner's direction. "We're still doing that one day, by the way," he stated firmly, reaching to turn the stove down. Then he turned fully around, leaning up against the counter across from the man he loved so much, crossing his arms over his chest. "So... what stupid thing did you do today?" he asked with a smile playing on his lips.

The other man tensed a bit, not sure if he should tell the truth or make something up really quickly and change the subject entirely. Then again, Darcy never was a very good liar. And he hated to be lied to himself. So, he reached back to scratch at the back of his neck. "Okay... so um... you remember a few nights ago... we we're in bed and you were talking about..." he hesitated.

Maybe he should change the subject. Maybe it would be better to just forget about this. To just move on from it. Because it wasn't logical. It wasn't smart to just do something like this. He'd rehearsed these words over and over again on the ride home. Because he had to be clear, he had to say everything exactly the way he'd planned.

A sort of panic trailed down the man's spine. He couldn't remember a thing he was going to say. "Darce? Are you okay?"

Nodding almost frantically, Darcy forced himself to think about it all over again, to remember the boy sitting alone, isolated in that office, scared out of his mind for whatever was to come next. And Darcy continued, letting the words just fall from his lips. "Do you remember the other night when you were talking about... about maybe... maybe wanting to have kids?" he asked, looking up into his fiancé's eyes to try and gauge his reaction from just that question. "Someday?"

The shorter man's eyebrows raised up a little, curiously. "I remember talking. I remember you pretending to sleep," he lightly scolded, leaning towards him just a bit. "Multiple times," he added.

It was true. The subject scared Darcy to death. Every move he made was carefully calculated. Hell, he'd had the ring that was now resting comfortably on his fiancé's finger for a full year before he was ready to get down on one knee. Thinking about having kids was something they didn't need to think about for a long time.

But then he'd met that kid. "Bill... I was... down at the station today. And I met this... this kid..." His partner, his beautiful fiancé didn't say a word. His eyes only widened a little bit in shock. But he kept his mouth shut. He stood, ready to listen. So Darcy kept talking. "He was sitting all alone in the Chief's office, so I went in to talk to him and... when the Chief got back I asked about his situation-"

That was what got Bill's attention. Not that he hadn't been listening, just that this had not been what he was expecting. "Wait, what?" he cut in, pushing himself up so that he was standing taller in front of the other man. "You met one kid and now you want to... what? Take him in?"

"It wasn't my intention! But... you would've done the same thing, and you know it!" Darcy argued. He knew Bill would've. Bill wouldn't have waited as long either. He would've seen that little boy and it would've wanted to scoop him up and make him soup immediately. "His situation is complicated and he needs a place to go, and I know you and I know that you would love this kid and yes he's troubled and yes-"

"Okay. Okay! Okay," Bill caved, raising up his hands in a sign of surrender. "I'm not saying you're wrong. But let's not forget that you met him in a police station. Obviously he had to do something to be in there," he mused. "So... what'd he do?"

Opening his mouth to respond, Darcy opted against it, remembering the words that had come out of the kid's mouth. He shouldn't lead with that. "Can I tell you about him first?" he asked hopefully. But that only seemed to make Bill more anxious. "Listen, he's a good kid. I talked with him for a while. He loves to read. He's smart. He likes art and told me that he wants to learn how to cook. And, the kid has never seen so many movies that I know you'd want to show him-"

"Darcy! What did he do?" Bill asked again, slowly and calmly, reaching to place his hands on his love's shoulders, trying to tell him to slow down. "C'mon, normally you're off ranting about things that I can hardly keep up with. This kinda thing is supposed to be my territory. So... what did he do?" His voice was gentle, just like it always was.

Taking a breath, Darcy lowered his head, trying to figure out how to word this. He knew it was a long shot. He knew it was. But there was just something about this kid... something so good about him. Darcy wanted to help him. "He... sort of... he sort of shot someone..." he finally forced out, scratching at the back of his neck, knowing it was pointless to try and skirt around that little detail.

At that point, Bill didn't know weather he was supposed to laugh or be worried out of his mind. Shooting someone was kind of a big deal. He knew that his fiancé tended to overlook things like that. After all, he was a lawyer. People shot people for all kinds of reasons, but to defend their morals and to invite someone like that into their home were two completely different things. "Darce-"

"He's fourteen. He shot his foster father who was beating on his older brother. He saved the kid's life, Bill... I saw pictures. It was bad... really bad..." Darcy explained, quietly. And right when his partner tried to argue, he pulled out his phone and opened it, turning it so that the shorter man could see the screen.

There were three boys. They looked happy. They practically clung to each other. The tallest of them was looking down at the two blonds held close to his chest with such a love in his eyes it made Bill's heart melt immediately. "Oh, c'mon... why do you have to show me that?" he whined, taking the phone immediately, and staring down at those precious kids.

A small smile spread on Darcy's lips. "Chris is the youngest... then there's Anthony and Jack, but they wouldn't be staying with us... if we agree to take him in... you know... if... if you want to..." he added quickly. Bill looked up at him with such a desperate twinkle in his eyes. "Look... I know when you were talking about kids... this is not what you had in mind and you certainly did not meant it this soon... but we could do so much good for this kid and I know you and I know that you want to help him, but this is a big decision so I want you to take a little time to think about how much this would change-"

"You know I can't say no! What the hell, Darcy? Why are you like this?!" Bill cried out dramatically, looking back down at the picture and letting his thumb hover over it.

But all Darcy could do was laugh. "Okay, well I mean we are getting married... so there's that to think about. Stress levels are already going to be high. But... you should meet him," he decided, reaching up to caress his lover's cheek even as he continued staring down at the photo that he'd gotten earlier that day. "They're close with the Chief. He told me if we wanted we could go down to the hospital tomorrow to meet all three of the boys... and we could decide for sure then. We don't have to if you don't want to..."

At that, Bill actually glared up at the taller man. "You are an asshole," he stated, hardly able to keep himself from looking down at those poor children again.

He was already in love with them. And Darcy couldn't help but fall even further in love with him. "I'm going to go ahead and take that as a yes," he sighed, simply watching the other man.

They were really doing this.

Holding onto them was all he could do. Cling to them, more like. Make sure that this time, he held tighter. Tighter than he ever had before. It was all he could do.

The apartment was small. There was no small thing special about it. It was just another home. Not a real home, of course. No. Home was supposed to be safe. Home was supposed to be where he wanted to be all the time. No. This was just another place. Another place for someone to pretend. To use them. To exploit them. To make them feel like mere objects. But it would have to do. Because he couldn't lose them.

They were all he'd ever had.

Three little boys. That's all they were. He knew that. He knew he was small. He knew he was weak. He knew he was scared. But he couldn't be. Not while they were here. Because they depended on him. They needed him to keep them safe; to do anything and everything he could to keep them together and alive. He'd seen things. Things too much for his young mind to handle. Things that would scar him and impact every move he made for the rest of his life. Things that he could never unsee.

He clung to them. Tighter than he ever had before. Because they were what he had. All he'd ever had. And this? This small, dark apartment was the only chance they had left.

One slip up and it was over.

"What the hell is this, Ian?"

The voice was harsh and loud and his baby brother whimpered against him. The littlest one. He didn't like the noise. Not anymore.

"You said one. One kid and this would go away."

Holding onto them was all he could do. Arms circled around his waist and a head snuggled into his shoulder. He tried to tune out the words. If he couldn't hear them, if he ignored them, maybe they'd stop. Maybe they wouldn't try to tear them apart again. Because he couldn't do it. Not again.

The apartment could work. They could survive here. Maybe it would be hard. Maybe it would be rough. But he'd make sure it could work. For them, he'd make it work.

There were little trinkets everywhere. Glass. Things he knew would get him in trouble if he ever tried to touch them. Things he'd have to keep them away from. They were just little kids. That's all they were. But they didn't have the luxury of warnings. One slip up, and hell would break loose. It would be their fault. Because they were supposed to be perfect angels. They were supposed to be mature and grown up and perfect little foster kids even though they had no one. No one to teach them right from wrong, good from bad or real from fake. They had to learn that all on their own. They had to learn things that no child should have to learn before they were old enough. They were just kids. Yet, they were held to bizarre expectations and standards. Like they knew better.

The glass was hardly touched by the light. He let his eyes wander around the colorful marks they made on the ceiling with the small amount of sunshine allowed in through the closed curtains. It wasn't much. But it was enough to make some beautiful kind of art across the room. Though, it was so small and easily overlooked, it was the only thing that was enough to let him tune out the arguing grownups. The ones who thought they knew it all. The ones who thought they had it all together.

They didn't. No one truly did.

He watched the small, colorful lights dance around on the ceiling as the grownups kept arguing. They seemed to be distressed and angry and all he could do was cling to his little brother and watch the small lights. He wasn't sure why they were so fascinating. Maybe it was because the glass elephant that they came from was so small and so fragile. Maybe it was because the light made his chest feel a little less clenched. Maybe it was because it was something to distract him. He didn't know. He didn't care. He just let himself watch them.

Someone sniffled at his side. His little brother. Not the baby. But still little to him. He tore his gaze away to look down at them. Two blond little boy's curled up on either side of him, waiting for the bad to come and take them again. Waiting for the hurt that he couldn't stop. He tightened his grasp. He took a steady breath.

"I got you..." he swore, just loud enough for them to hear him. The adults were still talking. Yelling. Angry at each other.

If there was anything he'd learned in his young life, it was that anger was what was always somehow turned on him. It was always taken out on him. Because he somehow wasn't good enough. Because somehow, standing up for himself was talking back. Somehow a single mistake was a deliberate attack. It always resulted in some kind of smack. Some kind of threat. Something to scare him.

But he couldn't be scared right now. Not while they were here. So he clung to the only two things in the world he had. The only two kids in the world he'd ever had and quite possibly might ever have. He was alone in protecting them. No one else would. No one else typically gave them a second glance. But he'd protect them.

This apartment would have to do. Because it was what they were being given. And this was their last chance.

One slip up and it was over.

The apartment was dark and cold and dirty and more empty than it had ever felt before. It hadn't been touched in two weeks. Jack Kelly stood there, a scowl on his face as he took it in. He tried not to look down. Not to see the blood than stained the carpet and the walls. Not to imagine how hard Race fought to get away from their foster father when he went at him. He tried to breathe. But the air seemed toxic. And all he wanted was out.

There were people behind him. Waiting for him to move. To let him in. To just suck it up and move forward. He couldn't. He felt frozen, unsure of why he felt so bitter and angry that this was the last time he'd ever step inside this apartment. Unsure of why it was bothering him so much.

He hated this apartment. Hated the memories that came with it. He hated the way it made him fear for his life. He hated the way all he'd ever remember when he thought about it was his brothers crying and screaming. He hated this place.

But once they left, that's when the change was coming. And he wasn't ready for that.

"Kelly..." a voice whispered behind him. Jack only vaguely recognized it as May. He let his eyes wander around the place for a moment more. He took in the darkened dump before he hesitantly took a step inside.

Glass broke beneath his shoes, shattering even more than it had already beneath his weight. Jack only sniffled a little bit before he forced himself forward again, slowly but surely making his way inside.

A herd of people began to trail in after him. And somehow, Jack still felt alone.

"Jesus, this is the place?" someone whispered in disbelief. Jack couldn't turn around. He couldn't look at the people that were there with him. His brothers both limped up to either side of him. Race with one crutch and an arm cast and Crutchie with just his crutch. The rest of the folks behind him were... well, just there to make sure Jack didn't try to make some kind of run for it. Not that he could. He couldn't drive. Now had two little brothers who couldn't physically run. But he supposed they were right to be there.

Because he wanted away with the only two people he'd ever had.

There were five adults behind them. Two they knew and three that were strangers. May and Medda, Kloppman, and Darcy and his fiancé. They had a plan. But Jack wasn't ready.

"C'mon, babies... let's go get your things..." Medda coaxed.

Their things. It was almost funny. They hardly had things to get. It was mostly just clothes. Maybe a few books that Crutchie had managed to hide. But other than that, there wasn't much. But they had their backpacks. The same ones that May bought them for their first day of school. It was all they had.

The second they made it to their room, the reality of the situation seemed to hit his brothers full force. Race froze completely while Crutchie hesitated by the bed. The only two that followed them in were Medda and Kloppman.

Crutchie sniffled. He didn't know what to say. All he could do was sigh and collapse back on the bed behind him. Their bed. The one he'd shared with his brothers for the past four years. The one that Jack always held them in. The one that Race passed out in most nights. The one where they were always together.

The old man in the room walked over to the single dresser that was up against the wall. An empty bottle of concealer was still left, disregarded on top. Other than that, there wasn't a single decoration. Not in the entire room. Just a bed and a dresser. Beginning to open the thing up, he found there was little clothes that they had to wear. Most everything were sweats. Baggy clothes to hide scars and bruises, no doubt.

He turned back around to try and say something as he saw Race leaning his crutch up against the wall. Before he could even try to warn him against it, Jack was rushing over. "Racer, ya can't-"

"I'm fine, Kelly," the boy insisted. Jack flinched a little at the tone, but quickly moved in anyways to carry some of his brother's weight.

"Calm down, kid... c'mon..." he soothed, leading his brother down to the bed, next to Crutchie. Then he leaned down to press a quick kiss to both of their heads before resting his cheek on Crutchie's hair. "I gotcha..." he swore. "It's gonna be okay..."

A sniffle made its way to Jack's ears. "I wanna go ta Santa Fe..." the littlest boy in the room whimpered. "I thought we was gonna go ta Santa Fe..." The boy was beginning to break. Again. As if they hadn't cried enough in the last couple of weeks. With Race completely bedridden. Crutchie being questioned over and over again, asked to describe what happened in explicit detail. They'd been told what was going to happen to them. They'd been told that this was going to happen.

That they were going to be separated.

"I know, Chris..." Jack whispered, running a hand over his hair and sitting down next to him. "I know..." It broke his heart. Santa Fe had never felt further from him. He still couldn't help but wish he could just scoop them up and take them there. Out west. As far away from here as they could get. But he couldn't.

Curiously, as Kloppman took some of the clothes out, and began to unzip all three of the backpacks in his hands, he looked up, just as Medda began to fold the clothes from the drawers and place them in neat piles on top of the dresser. "What's in Santa Fe?" he asked quietly, not quite understanding. At the very least, he knew the kids wanted to get away. He knew this is not what they wanted. He knew they still didn't fully trust him, or any of them. Expect, maybe Medda.

But the question seemed to float around in the room for a moment, like what was there was almost too precious to talk about. Kloppman watched as the boys seemed to lean closer to each other. But finally, Race spoke up. "Our mamma w's from Santa Fe..." he stated, his voice only barely audible. "She's said... she said she was gonna take us... afta' she got the money... n' we was gonna ride the horses n'-"

"N' ride into the hills on a palomino, bareback and wild, huh?" Medda smiled, glancing back at her boys and offering a quick wink.

Curling up even further into Jack's side Crutchie nodded, allowing his big brother to maneuver him so he was laying with his head in his lap. Race just reached out to massage his leg. "Mamma had a horse when she was younger. She n' Medda used ta ride him everyday..." he recited, the story making him smile, despite the situation. "His name was Beau."

Though Crutchie had been young when they'd lost their mother, that story always remained with him. Not to mention he had Jack and Race to tell him all of their mamma's adventures from her childhood. Back when she'd been innocent, she'd used to say.

With a small laugh, Medda nodded. "Yeah... we used ta ride all the horses back in Santa Fe. We didn't care who was callin' us 'r tellin' is ta get on inside, we just rode... sometimes all night," she recalled, allowing herself to cherish the memory of her best friend for just a moment before turning around to her boys. There were sad smiles on their faces. She knew this was hard for them. This might be one of the hardest things they'd ever had to do. It was hard for her too. But they weren't being torn apart. Not like before. Not at all like before. "Ya know what else your mamma loved ta do?" she asked, taking a few steps closer to her boys. Before anyone could stop her, she squeezed at Jack's sides, causing him to gasp and jerk backwards, though a smile spread over his face. And Medda didn't stop there. She grinned as she tickled him relentlessly, causing him to burst into a fit of giggles. "She loved makin' you laugh," she yelled as he writhed around on the bed, careful not to hit either of his brothers. He tried escaping her fingers, but she was too quick. And his brothers turned on him immediately.

Race crawled over to grab Jack's arms and Crutchie simply sat and laughed at him. "What the hell?" Jack laughed, tears coming to his eyes as he giggled and tried to gasp for air.

The fit of laughter seemed to get everyone's attention. The three men from the other room wandered into the smaller space, watching with small smiles as the oldest of the three brothers laughed, actually laughed. None of them were sure they'd heard it before. Jack laughing. Just laughing. And his brothers laughing right along with him.

"H-hey! Stop it!" he wheezed out, rolling over somehow and tackling his brother on the bed. Race yelped. Jack's heart dropped for a moment as he thought he'd hurt the boy. But Race just started laughing. So the older kid straddled his hips, reaching down to tickle his little brother just as Medda has tickled him. And when Crutchie started laughing even harder, Jack turned on him too. "You little traitors!" he accused with a grin, letting his fingers travel around their torsos, knowing exactly where their weak spots were.

For a while, they continued on, laughing and giggling on their bed, relishing in the moments they had together. And, when Jack got tired, all three of them collapsed back onto the mattress, breathing hard and letting their giggles trail off. Every adult in the room watched them, their hearts lightening just a bit when they saw the boys having a good time together. Forgetting for just a split second what was about to happen.

And then that moment ended.

None of the adults wanted to do this. They were all so hesitant to speak. It was heartbreaking what they had to do next. Race and Crutchie looked up to Jack. Too much. They hated to admit that that was dangerous. That Jack was only a kid and that they needed stable, hardworking adults to teach them right from wrong. They hated what had to happen next.

May was the bravest of them all. The one who cleared his throat. "Boys... We should get going..." he urged, watching as the backpacks were zipped up.

It was immediate, the way Jack held onto his brothers tighter. The way the laughter dissolved. The way the boys began to panic.

Jack sat up slowly. Crutchie was curled up, his head in the older boy's lap. Race was curled up with his head above his big brother's hip. He looked helplessly up at the adults in the room. And then his eyes travelled back down to the kids in his lap. His brothers. All he'd ever had.

There was nowhere they could go. This was the best they could get.

So, with a heavy sigh and one more kiss to each of his brother's heads, Jack looked back up at the five adults.

And he gave in.

It was a compromise they could all live with.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

It was dark. It had been a long time since Race was left alone in the dark.

He should be grateful. He should feel special, but that very word made him feel sick. Special. It was what he'd been told several times before. He was special after he'd been ripped from the arms of his brother and taken in by a man he could remember every inch of. He'd been special that first night when he'd been given new clothes that he did not like. He'd been special after that man had told them they were going to "play a game."

He didn't want to be special.

He wanted to be normal.

He curled up at the head of his new bed, his back pressed up against the wall and his knees pulled to his chest, his chin resting on top of them. It was a twin bed. His own twin bed. It felt empty. He wasn't in a tangle of limbs. He wasn't fighting for a blanket.

He was alone.

The room was warm and quiet and full of new furniture. A comfy looking chair in the corner to his right. A desk and an old laptop against the wall to his left. His own bathroom just through a door beside that. There was a television in the corner beside the window. It was set up with an Xbox. Race had never played. Some of the other boys who he'd met in the system had. But they weren't here.

It was just the first night. Maybe it would get better. But all the kid knew was, he couldn't sleep.

He didn't want to be special. Not again.

Things came flashing back through his mind in an instant. He didn't want to do it all again. It was like he could feel the hands all over him again. His breaths were trembling as he closed his eyes and saw himself being dragged backwards. He could feel lips on his skin. He just wanted to get out.

The boy looked over towards the bathroom. He bit his lip and then glanced back towards his door. He fisted a hand at his eyes and then slid off his bed. His bare feet hit the floor and he dragged them from the carpet to the cool tile of the other room. His ankle was still sore. His side too. He was supposed to use the crutches against the wall. But he didn't. Instead, he limped forward, only vaguely aware of the cast around his arm, still wrapped up in plastic wrap from the night before.

Jack had done it for him.

He reached the edge of the next room. He turned the light on and pressed the door shut behind him.

He felt nauseous.

His hands were shaking as he pulled himself to the shower. Turning the thing on, he made sure the water was hot. Really hot. When it was nothing less than steaming, he crawled in, clothes on and all.

And he let the scalding hot water drench him.

He just wanted to get the feeling of the hands off of him. He could still feel them crawling down his back, fingering around his neck.

He closed his eyes tight as he tried to imagine Jack's calming voice. Crutchie's warm smile.

The water hit his back hard. But he could hardly feel it.

He didn't want to think anymore.

He just wanted Jack.

"It's okay, Anthony… I promise I won't hurt you…"

"It'll be our little secret…"

"Shhhhhh… quiet, little one… we wouldn't want anyone to hear us…"

The boy didn't know how long he sat there as the memories kept replaying over in his head. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that his breaths were broken and uneven. That he had quiet tears and breathy sobs escaping him as the steam filled up the bathroom.

It had barely been one night.

The child let himself fall apart beneath the hot water. He was gripping at his soaked hair tightly.

His body felt heavy. The air was getting thicker. He was getting tired as the warmth blanketed around him.

Not until the curtain of the shower was pulled back.

Race flinched. But he didn't look up. Not even as the water was turned off and he was left a trembling mess in the tub. "Anthony? Can you hear me, buddy?" The boy's heart dropped. This is when Mr. Kloppman realized he was getting more than he bargained for. This is when Mr. Kloppman realized that there was no helping Race. That it was too much trouble for such a pathetic kid. "Hey… kid, talk to me," the man pleaded.

Still, Anthony did not reply.

"Okay… you don't wanna talk, that's okay," the man sighed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his new guardian run a tired hand over his eyes as he squatted down beside the tub. "I'll talk, if ya want…" he decided. He stood and backed away, leaning against the counter top behind him. "I was having trouble sleeping tonight, like you. Probably not for the same reasons, but I was awake, nonetheless…" His words were so calm and just the right amount of quiet for the time of night that Race found himself wondering if he was imagining it.

Here he was, sitting in a bathtub in his clothes, soaking wet, trembling almost violently as horrific memories plagued his mind and this man was acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"I was thinking about the stars," the teacher sighed, looking up at the ceiling like he could see them now. "When I was your age, I lived in a little town in Alaska. You could just walk outside and see the stars up in the sky in the winter." He looked back down at his new foster son. The boy was still shivering, though his grasp on his own curly locks was loosening, even if only slightly. He was definitely listening. "It was so green out there… people say they could never live there. Where I lived, in the summer, the sun just… doesn't set. It's like the days are never ending. It's beautiful… confusing for some, but… that was how I lived."

Silence remained. So the man continued speaking. "I loved the sun when I was young. Looking back, I miss it. But the second I could, I got out of there. I went anywhere that I could with any money I could get my hands on." A laugh escaped him at the old memories. Not one full of humor. More one of reminiscing and fondness. "Chicago, Hawaii, Texas, Mexico, Italy, Germany, Greece… its amazing the kind of beautiful things you find even when you're not looking for them…" Especially then.

The child sniffled, only glancing over at him for a split second before he cleared his throat, shakily and hesitantly. "I-I've never been out of New York," he squeaked, his voice so quiet sounding as though he was just on the verge of sobs, though none escaped him.

Giving a small scoff, the man smiled. "You've never seen the stars, have you?" Kloppman asked, careful not to move from his spot. Anthony only barely shook his head. "It's a shame. But you're only fifteen. You've still got time, kid… maybe one day we can get your brothers and drive up north a bit, watch the stars for a night or two…"

Taking a trembling breath, the boy let out an airy hum in agreement. The small sound was enough to remind him that he was still there. Still sitting like an idiot in the tub, dripping wet.

The thing was, he'd almost forgotten why. Just for a moment.

But he let out a small sob and peaked up at the man who'd taken him in. His teacher offered him a sad smile, but slowly stepped towards him, lowering himself to the boy's level and keeping his gaze steadily on Race's own. "It's okay, Anthony… lemme help you out of there—" He tried to reach for the child's arm.

"Please don't…" he asked, knowing he couldn't handle the contact, but also coming to the realization that he definitely did not want to be alone. "I… I'm sorry—"

"You have nothing to apologize for, kid. Nothing," the man stressed, taking his hand back and biting his lip. Kloppman had known this would be hard, but he'd be damned if he ever gave up on this precious boy. "Hey… I'll grab you some dry clothes, okay?"

Race nodded, still refusing to stand.

The man disappeared. And the child's heart clenched tightly the entire time he was gone, almost as if he were afraid that the monsters were going to grab him the second his foster father turned his back. Maybe that was exactly what he was afraid of. He just didn't want to admit it.

The door creaked slightly as his guardian returned, a fresh pair of sweats in his arms. The man set them beside the tub and smiled at the boy. "I'll wait right outside. Is that alright?" The slight nod that the boy gave him was enough. So Kloppman retreated back out into his foster son's room and shut the door behind him.

And for a long moment, Race didn't move. Because what if this man was just like… what if this man was waiting for him to…

He felt nauseous all over again.

He wanted Jack. He wanted his brothers. He'd take Snyder over this panic any day. He knew what was coming. He knew what this man wanted from him in return for staying in his house and eating the food he provided and taking up the space on this earth that he took up.

He didn't want to do it again.

But he knew he had to move. He knew things would only get worse if he didn't.

Wiping at his nose, the boy began peeling the soaked fabric from his body. He kept his eye steadily on the door as he moved fast and spastically after that. Just to make sure the door wouldn't open suddenly when he wasn't expecting it. He stood to his feet, forgetting that he'd been injured merely days before. He hissed when he put pressure on his ankle again.

If the man heard him, he didn't say anything.

He continued on, waiting for the moment when everything would start to fall apart all over again. When nothing happened, Race breathed a sigh of relief, though his breaths were still shaky and shallow at best. But he folded up the wet clothes, holding them over the tub as he did so, before shyly making his way towards the door, using the wall as support as to not hurt himself again, unsure of what to do next.

Mr. Kloppman was sitting on the chain inside the room, simply waiting for him to re-emerge. A kind smile spread on his face when he saw the boy. "Hey, Anthony… you feeling any better?" The boy didn't answer. He just lowered his head in shame and stood in the doorway, embarrassed. Kloppman stood. He walked towards the boy, warning himself against trying to touch the kid. "You wanna talk about it?" Race shook his head and sniffled. The man nodded and sighed a bit. "Okay… you don't have to. Is there anything I can do?"

The child really froze at that. Half of him wished his legs would just take off running. The other half of him wanted to finally be able to just sleep at night or trust someone again.

It seemed as though neither were an option.

He shrugged and bit at his lip, his eyes still glued to the floor. "I'm… 'm sorry…" he apologized again. For making the man get up. For soaking the perfectly nice pajamas this man had provided. For being an inconvenience. For being the pathetic shell of a person he was.

His teacher seemed a bit upset at his apology. At least, from what the boy could tell. He waited for a scolding that didn't come. Instead, a gentle and cautious hand beneath his chin forced his eyes up. The child gasped a bit at the concept before his eyes met much wiser ones. "Kid… nothing you've done was wrong. Do you understand that?"

There was sincerity in the man's gaze. And Race's heart tightened for some reason. A reason he didn't understand. He tried to keep himself steady. But he couldn't help the few tears that trailed down his cheeks when he tried to say yes.

Because he didn't.

He should be getting punished for this. He was being stupid. Snyder would've punished him for this.

But this man just cautiously reached to brush the confused tears off of Anthony's cheeks. "It's okay, bud… let me help you get back to your bed, okay?"

The boy didn't get much of a chance to reply as an arm wrapped around his back and he was leaning on his new guardian, allowing himself to be led back to the soft mattress that he was supposed to sleep on all by himself.

Once he was there, Race sat on the edge of the bed, wiping at his face as the tears fell faster. Kloppman's arm left him. And he felt a twinge of something. Something that he still couldn't place. The man ran a few fingers through his damp hair. Race shuddered only a bit. The man took his hand back immediately as the boy's discomfort showed.

Race nodded. He looked up as the man turned to leave. And he found himself thinking something he was sure he'd never thought before.

He didn't want this man to leave him alone.

"Mr... Mr. Kloppman?" he called in a breath, reaching to fist at his nose with his good hand. He barely glanced up enough to see his guardian turn back towards him. "C-could you… c-can you tell me more about the stars?" His own voice shook at the request. He could feel his brain beginning to turn faster and faster. He should be running. He should be finding his brothers. "Just for a few minutes…"

The man let a genuine, happy grin take over his face before he nodded and slowly walked back over to the chair. "As long as you're comfortable, Anthony, I'd love to…"

Race curled back up at the top of his bed. He backed away as the man leaned toward him.

But he found himself listening to the teacher's gentle voice as he drifted off calmly to darkness where no monsters were waiting to grab at him.

For this one night, maybe things would be alright.

There was a knock at the door. It was small and quiet and gentle. But it did not stop Crutchie from bolting upright. His heart was racing in his chest.

"Chris? Are you awake?"

The voice was as small as the knock. But Crutchie froze. He blinked himself awake quick. But he didn't know what to say. He decided on a very small, "y-yeah…" before the door was slowly pushed open. It didn't creak. Not even a small noise.

Nothing in this house was out of place. Darcy had put everything away for him. The boy hadn't missed the look on his face when he'd seen for the second time that day how little he had with him.

His whole life fit inside one backpack with plenty of room to spare. He'd never minded that. They may have had few clothes, no childhood treasures and nothing to really call their own. But they'd had each other. Jack had promised that it would be okay. He'd promised they would stay together.

It wasn't Jack's fault. But Crutchie was still upset.

Bill poked his head in. The boy tried to wipe the horror off of his face. Judging by the way Bill smiled at him, he guessed he wasn't quite successful. "Hey, uh… you okay?" It was clear the young man didn't really know what to say, much less do.

The truth was, Crutchie didn't either.

"I… I was just about to start breakfast…" Bill stated, when he figured that out, slipping a bit further into the room. "Are you hungry?"

Too scared to say anything else, the boy nodded his head. Looking back, he wasn't sure he'd said more than a couple words since he'd gotten here. They'd said this house was small. But it was bigger than any house Crutchie had ever been in before. It had two guest rooms, one of which they'd called his. His own room.

He wasn't sure he'd ever had his own room before.

He couldn't recall having his own bed.

Then again, there were a lot of things growing up that Crutchie couldn't remember at all.

"Well, we have a lot of options. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, smoothies, bacon, cereal, French toast… what sounds good?" The words flowed out of the man like he said them everyday. Like this was at least somewhat normal, though he still looked a bit uncomfortable.

The child's eyes widened a bit. He couldn't recall a morning where he'd eaten a proper breakfast. Not since they'd stayed with Medda when they were young.

Breakfast at Snyder's had been few and far between. At most, he'd been offered a piece of fruit. Jack would often give up food for him. But he'd couldn't remember the last time he'd even been offered so much. A room, a home, a breakfast. All he could do was stare, too scared to choose one of those options. The man still had an unsure smile on his face. "Okay… how about this, I let Darcy pick, because he loves to pick, and I can show you how to make whatever he decides," Bill suggested.

Crutchie swallowed and let himself nod again. Bill's smile fell just a little. The child could practically feel his disappointment. Him and Bill had yet to have a conversation without Darcy's help. It wasn't that the boy didn't like him. Bill was nice. Darcy had been kind to Crutchie from the second he'd met him. Bill had been even more so. He liked Bill.

He didn't like being away from his brothers.

"Okay, why don't you get dressed and meet me in the kitchen?" the young man suggested.

Crutchie tried to smile. It was small and quick. But he could see Bill's eyes brighten just a bit before the man nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, quietly walking back out the door and letting it shut behind him.

The boy watched the man leave.

He felt his heart sink in his chest. Jack always talked to the grown ups. Crutchie had never been good at that. The last thing he wanted to do was make these people feel like he was ungrateful, like he didn't want to be with them. They'd taken him in, knowing what he'd done and where he'd come from. They'd offered up their home to him, knowing he had baggage.

But he had no idea what to say to them.

They were supposed to go shopping for furniture today. Apparently, this room needed a touch of uniqueness, a dash of him. But the kid wasn't sure he knew what that meant. Bill said he'd help him figure out what he liked.

Crutchie just wished Jack was there to put an arm around him.

”I don’t know, Darce... He’ll hardly talk to me—“ Bill tried as he pulled out ingredients for the pancakes his fiancé requested.

"Sweetheart, this is new for all of us. He's still adjusting. We all just have to give it a little time." Sometimes it was crazy how Darcy could so easily calm him down. He always seemed to know what to say. "Look, we'll start slow. Just breakfast for now. Then we can go furniture shopping. I know how much you love that. We've got Chris to ourselves for a whole week. We'll figure this out…"

"What if we can't?" the other man asked, a faint feeling of guilt bubbling in his stomach as he whispered that to his future husband. He'd wanted a family for so long. He'd wanted to raise a kid for so long. But he didn't know if he was ready. He didn't know if he'd be good enough. "Darcy… I know you see something in this kid… and you deal with a lot of troubled people everyday. I have no idea how to even begin to understand what Chris has been through."

With a small smile, Darcy walked up behind his fiancé, wrapping his arms around the other man's middle and giving him a kiss on the shoulder. "Hey… no one says you have to understand, Billy… and… if you really think this will be too much, we can always figure something out. But right now? All you have to do is be here and make sure he knows that we're here for him," Darcy stated, letting Bill lean into him. "If it's really too much, we can talk about that, okay?"

Bill let himself smile. He knew deep down that there was no way he'd ever let that kid go back into the system. But hearing Darcy say those words gave him peace of mind. He turned just enough for Darcy to press his lips against his own.

That was when they heard Chirs's crutch clicking against the floor. Bill's heart ached for the small boy. The kid ran a hand through his messy hair and limped over to them, offering them both the best smile he could manage. "Hey, Crutchie," Darcy greeted easily. "You sleep okay?"

The boy looked between both of the men for a moment and shrugged. "I guess…" he sighed, wincing inwardly at himself when he heard how terrified he sounded. He cleared his throat, lowering his head as he bit his lip. "It's… weird… I ain't neva' had my own room before…" He didn't know what else he could say. He didn't know if he was sharing too much or too little. He just didn't know what to do.

Melting a bit for the boy, Bill reached to squeeze Darcy's hand. "I can't imagine what that feels like, Chris… but… we're only right down the hall if you ever need us, okay?"

Only glancing up slightly, the boy nodded. Though his heart felt a little lighter at the man's words. "What… what are we makin'?"

Smile only widening, Bill nodded him over to the counter. "Darcy requested pancakes, which means sausage and bacon too," he explained, grabbing a bowl out from the shelf above him. "Now, I don't know what kind you like, so you may just have to try them all. We've got bananas, chocolate chips, blueberries…"

The man rambled on. And Crutchie found himself getting lost in his words for a moment, allowing Bill to gently place a hand on his back as he introduced the kid to what he described as a secret recipe.

Darcy felt his heart tighten in his chest. He watched his man and the new boy in the house. Bill was so excited about everything and Crutchie was working so hard to try and keep and keep up with him. He found himself unable to refrain from pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture of the two.

One that just so happened to catch the boy's smile as Bill joked about something Darcy hadn't heard.

It didn't matter. The smile was enough.

That smile was perfect.

"A week? You can't be serious!"

"A week isn't a lifetime, Jack. It's just so you can all get settled—"

"May, we ain't been without each other for four years! You can't just separate us like this n' not let us see 'r talk to each other f'r—"

"Kelly. Sit. Down."

Jack did. He hadn't meant to. It was like his body just moved without his brain pausing to think. Somewhere deep down, Jack knew this man wouldn't hurt him. But his shoulders tensed. He couldn't help it.

The man noticed and softened at the sight immediately. He sighed as he made his way closer to the couch where the boy was now sitting, slowly lowering his head down into his hands to try and calm himself. The man slowly sat himself down on the coffee table in front of the kid.

It was clear that Jack didn't want to talk. Not really. There wasn't much May could say to make him feel better about this.

He'd known this boy for four years. He knew how hard this was going to be on him. For four years, the only hope Jack had was that when he turned eighteen, he was leaving and he was taking his little brothers with him. He was going to be the hero that they'd deserved for so long.

And now that had been taken away from him.

"Jack… I understand that this… it's gonna be hard…" the police chief sighed, not wanting to touch the boy, not sure it would be welcome. The kid shook his head, almost looking up to say something. But May stopped him. "No, just listen for a minute, okay?" Jack lowered his head back down. So May sighed. "You love your brothers more than anything. I know that, Jack. You know I know that," he stressed. He resisted the urge to run a hand through the boy's hair. "I know you don't want to be without them. But right now, it's important for you all to learn how to function without each other… it's important, bud."

The words felt heavy. But they were true.

Jack didn't like them. He didn't argue. He didn't storm away. He just sat, knowing that whatever he said wouldn't matter. It never seemed to matter.

"Jackie, c'mon, kid," May sighed. "It's only a week to get settled in. If something happens, you'll be the first to know. But they're both in good hands."

"I don't know them…" Jack admitted, his voice low and quiet, as if he was afraid to talk. "Crutch n' Racer don't know them."

"That's why we're giving it a week, bud," May assured, finally just letting himself run a hand over Jack's hair. The boy only flinched for a moment before leaning into the calm, kind touch. "Truth be told, your new social worker wanted it to be longer. But I know better than that," he smiled. The boy was already pressed into the corner of the couch. But that didn't stop him from curling up even more. He hid his face in his arms and sniffled. Something in May's chest tightened. The kid had bags under his eyes. He'd hardly slept.

Last night, May wasn't sure he'd slept a wink. He'd knocked on the boy's door to find him sitting in the middle of his bed, sketchpad in his lap and broken pencil gripped tightly in his hand. May hadn't wanted to address it. Jack looked almost unaffected. Like he did things like that everyday. Every night.

"Hey… how about we do something today? Just us…" the man suggested. "We have some things to do. You definitely need more clothes, some new sheets, and I need to grab some groceries, but we can go to lunch… anywhere you want to go."

Those green eyes peeked out at him, still guarded behind messy brown hair and long eyelashes. He saw a look on his new guardian's face that he could only identify as hope. And suddenly he felt guilty. But he didn't know if he could do this. "I… I just need ta know they're okay…"

To his surprise, May's small smile never disappeared. He didn't understand why this man wasn't so disappointed in him. He wouldn't be surprised if this man got sick of him fast. Jack was pathetic. He knew that. But it was always easier to face the world when there were two boys at his side, looking at him like he was invincible, despite everything he'd been through. Despite everything they'd all been through.

Now Jack was on his own. And so were his brothers. And he didn't know if he could go through that again.

Not after everything that had happened last time.

With a small sigh, May blinked, thinking about it for a moment before scooting closer to him. "How about I make you a deal?" he offered. Jack blinked up at him, a small pout on his face that May wasn't sure he even knew he wore on his lips. "You make it through one week without running away to find your brothers, and after dinner next Friday, you can all stay here together. All weekend."

For a moment, the boy didn't react. But he bit his cheek and rubbed at his eyes. "I promised them that this wouldn't happen…" he said, his voice breaking as soft as it was. "I promised them that I was going to get them out of there—"

"And you did everything you could do…" May stood and sat on the couch beside his new foster son. He sighed, almost reaching out for the kid before he stopped himself. He shook his head, almost scooting away.

But that was before Jack turned and leaned against May's chest, wrapping his arms around the man's middle and curling into his side. "Why do I feel so horrible?"

Looking down at the child, the man carefully and cautiously wrapped his arms around him. "It's because your heart's too big for your chest… you can't take on everything by yourself, kid. Sometimes… you just have to let other people help you carry some of the weight. That's why I'm here," he promised, leaning his cheek down on Jack's thick brown hair. "That's why Mr. Kloppman and Bill and Darcy and Miss Medda are here."

Jack listened to the man. May had never done anything to hurt him. May had never lied to him. May had only ever tried to help. So he believed him.

Letting the words sink in, Jack just melted further into the man. He let the man run fingers through his hair. The silence was somewhat comforting. But there was that lingering thought in the back of the kid's mind. Maybe it was all just a trick or some kind of odd dream. He was bound to get hurt eventually.

Things always ended like that.

But for once in his life, he allowed himself that moment. One small moment that was there for comfort and reassurance.

He let himself have that moment. Because it might end soon.

But then again… maybe the next moment wouldn't be so bad.