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Chapter Text

1

"Hey, Crutchie, what's your leg say? Gonna rain?" Finch asked him playfully as the newsies waited in line to get their papes.

"Hmm, no rain..." Crutchie determined, trying to focus on the feeling in his leg. "Ah ha!" he finally announced. "Partly cloudy, clear by evening!"

This evoked a lively roar of laughter from the fellas along with a friendly punch on the arm from Jack. "Ey, good one, Crutch," he chuckled.

Crutchie jabbed at Jack's side in response, thus beginning a silly punching match between the two.

They were so caught up in their shenanigans that they didn't see Oscar Delancey approach Crutchie.

"Back of the line, crip!" Oscar sneered.

Before he could turn to face him, Crutchie felt a forceful tug on his crutch as Oscar tried to pull it out from under his arm.

Jack tried to move between Crutchie and Oscar, his fist already raised and ready to strike, but Crutchie stopped him. This was his battle and, win or lose, he wanted to fight it on his own.

When under attack, his crutch doubled as his weapon of defense. Crutchie had been in this situation enough times by now to know that that weapon would surely be used against him if he didn't hold on to it at all costs, even if that meant getting knocked to the ground with it, so that's exactly what he did.

Crutchie quickly tightened his grip on the handle and used his forearm to pin the crutch to his side as Oscar pulled harder. The force caused Crutchie to lose his balance and fall into Oscar who released the crutch and backed out of the way. Every instinct told him to drop the crutch and use his hands to break the fall, but Crutchie continued to cling on to it with white knuckles as he fell to the ground and landed on his arm. He wasn't hurt too badly apart from a scrape on his elbow and a few bruises.

Oscar wasn't content with that. He lunged forward and grabbed for the crutch again but Crutchie was faster.

Without missing a beat, Crutchie thrusted his crutch upwards into Oscar's middle, nailing him right in the groin with the underarm support and knocking him onto his ass.

"Argh, you lousy crip!" Oscar moaned, doubling over as he scrambled to his feet and staggered away.

The newsboys whooped and hollered in triumph. Some shouted insults in Oscar's direction while others cheered for Crutchie.

"Get outta here, ya good-for-nothin' sack o’ shit!"

"Yeah! That's what happens when ya mess with our Crutchie!"

"Crutchie! Crutchie! Crutchie!"

Crutchie got himself back on his feet where he was met with all kinds of hugs, back pats, and hair ruffles from the group.

"You okay?" Jack asked as he grabbed Crutchie by the shoulders, visibly still riled up.

Crutchie nodded. Meanwhile underneath his sleeve, he could feel blood beginning to run down his arm.

"Adda boy, Crutchie!" Jack praised, his anger melting as the two embraced.

The boys all took to the streets after finally purchasing their papers from Weisel. When Crutchie was sure that he was alone, he doubled back to the lodging house where he quickly patched himself up, then headed back out to continue carrying the banner.

Chapter Text

2

After a long day of selling papers, the Manhattan newsboys found themselves lounging around the common room of the lodging house as they often did before bed. A group of them were sat in the corner listening intently as Specs read aloud from the evening edition. All except Romeo and Elmer who were slumped on top of each other already asleep on the couch. In another corner, Race, Albert, and Mush were having their own conversation as Mike and Ike played checkers at a nearby table. Jack, Henry, Finch, and Crutchie were playing cards on the floor in the center of the room.

Crutchie shifted sideways and stretched his bad leg out in front of him, glad to be off of it for a little while. It had been particularly achy all day and more stiff than usual. He has days like this every so often and though it's no cause for concern, it sure is annoying.

"Your turn, Crutchie," Finch smiled at him.

"Oh, sorry, fellas," Crutchie whispered, not even realizing that his mind had wandered until he was brought back to reality. He quickly assessed his hand and played a card.

"Ooooh..." the others mused in unison as the turn shifted to Jack.

Damn, his leg hurt. It was making it hard for Crutchie to focus on the game. He rubbed the underside of his knee to try and loosen his muscles a bit but it didn't provide him any comfort.

He really just wanted to go to bed. As much as Crutchie liked staying up with the rest of the guys, lugging around a bum leg all day took a lot of energy out of him and he often required a little more sleep in order to keep up with them. Especially on bad days.

Crutchie jumped at the sudden sound of Finch shouting, "You bastard!" at Jack. It took him a good few seconds to realize he had only meant it playfully and that no one was actually upset with anyone.

Jack had won the game, apparently. At least Crutchie assumed that was why Finch was yelling at him and Henry was throwing his cards at him. Some of the other boys had congregated around them to watch in on the action and were now shouting either in favor or disapproval of Jack's victory.

When the clamor had calmed down, Crutchie decided it was time for him to call it a night.

"Well, goodnight fellas," he announced. "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night." He reached behind him for his crutch.

"Aw, ya can't quit now!" Finch asserted. "I can't go to bed a loser!"

"I'se sure one of the others can take my place," Crutchie offered, looking around the room for takers.

"G'night, Crutchie," Jack and Henry chirped, not arguing with him.

Crutchie smiled back as he went to stand up. He made it a few inches off the ground on his good leg but his bad leg wasn't cooperating. His knee was so stiff that it didn't want to bend. Crutchie fell back onto the floor with a small thump. He tried again and the same thing happened.

"Need help there, Crutch?" Jack offered, standing up.

"S'okay, I got it," Crutchie insisted. He bent and unbent his leg with his hands several times before attempting to stand again. He got a little farther this time but ultimately ended up back on his ass.

The room had fallen uncomfortably silent and Crutchie knew everyone was watching him. He felt his face go red as he tried once again to get on his feet. His leg obeyed him this time but it threatened to give out the second he put weight on it. He grunted with exertion as he shakily rose to a standing position and was able to lean on his crutch.

Jack was right there at his side. "Okay?" he mouthed silently.

Crutchie nodded, worn out.

"Go get some rest, kid," Jack smiled, patting Crutchie on the shoulder reassuringly before letting him go.

"Goodnight, Crutchie!" he heard the chorus of newsboys sing from behind him as he made his way to the stairs.

"Goodnight, fellas!" Crutchie yawned before climbing the steps.

Chapter Text

3

Jack and Crutchie had a special tradition. Every month they would pick a day during the week and have lunch together at Jacobi's Deli, just the two of them. It was a custom that Crutchie had initiated at the beginning of the Spanish-American war when selling newspapers had never been easier and the boys were finding themselves with a little more change to spare than usual each week. The war had ended months ago and money was much harder to come by now but they still managed to keep up their monthly tradition.

Crutchie had gotten a table and was counting his earnings from the morning while he waited for Jack. It had been a rough few weeks. A nasty stomach bug had put him out two days worth of pay last week and the lousy headlines lately were making it damn near impossible for him to make up for it. Unlike Jack, he wasn't good at coming up with fake stories. He hated it but sympathy was mostly what he relied on to sell papes. Although, it wasn't nearly as effective with how many newsies from neighboring boroughs were faking limps for profit these days. Crutchie was barely making a living.

"Hey! Sorry I'se late!"

Crutchie was pulled from his thoughts by Jack's arrival. He stuffed his change into his pocket as Jack took a seat across from him.

Before Jack even had time to fully sit down, Mr. Jacobi was already at their table. "Jack! Crutchie! What can I get you boys this afternoon?"

Jack nodded at Crutchie, letting him order first.

"Can I just get a water?" Crutchie asked.

Mr. Jacobi rolled his eyes but nodded.

"I'll take some seltzer," Jack said.

"That'll be two cents," Mr. Jacobi reminded him.

Jack nodded and handed him two pennies.

Mr. Jacobi disappeared back into the kitchen.

"So, how'd your mornin’ go?" Jack asked Crutchie, hanging his empty bag over the back of his chair.

"Good," Crutchie fibbed. He hoped Jack didn't notice how many papers he still had in his bag.

Before they could converse any further, Mr. Jacobi returned with their drinks. "Will there be anything else?" he asked almost sarcastically.

"Actually, yeah," Jack spoke up smugly. "Gimme a plate o' ham and some potato salad," he added, already holding up the dime it would cost.

"Ah, spending big today, are we?" Mr. Jacobi teased, taking the money. He produced a notepad from his apron and jotted Jack's order down before turning to Crutchie. "And for you?"

"Uh, one cheese sandwich, please," Crutchie requested.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him as Mr. Jacobi added that to his notepad. "That'll be five cents."

Crutchie counted out five pennies from his pocket and handed them over.

"I'll have that right out for you boys," Mr. Jacobi said before disappearing again.

"That's all you're gettin'?" Jack asked Crutchie once they were alone.

"Yeah," Crutchie said hesitantly. "I guess I ain't too hungry," he lied.

"Is your stomach botherin' ya again?" Jack leaned in and whispered, concerned.

"No," Crutchie quickly replied. "No, that's over with. I just... Well, I, uh—" he wasn't sure how to continue.

Jack figured it out on his own. "Crutchie, if youse short on cash, I can spot ya," he offered, already reaching back into his pocket.

"Jack, no," Crutchie said, reaching out his palms to stop him. "I can't take your money."

"You ain't takin' it," Jack scoffed. "I'm givin' it to ya." He put a nickel on the table and slid it over to Crutchie, "Get yourself a proper meal. Put some meat on them bones."

Crutchie slid the nickel back. "Jack," he repeated. "I'm serious. I didn't earn it. And besides, I don't know when I'll be able to pay ya back."

"Ya don't gotta pay me back," Jack assured. "You're my brother. Brothers don't let brothers starve."

Now it was Crutchie's turn to scoff. "I ain't gonna starve," he laughed. "I got a cheese sandwich comin' my way."

And that was the truth. Sure, he might still be a little hungry afterwards, but he'd be fine. Crutchie knew better than most people that there's a difference between going hungry and starving, and so should Jack. He was not about to complain about not having enough food when he knows what it's like to have none at all.

Jack even said it himself, they're brothers. Crutchie could accept hand-outs from the nuns—it's practically their job to help people—and even from generous tippers. But not from his own brother.

Jack didn't seem convinced by Crutchie's argument. "Yeah, but—"

"Here you are, boys!" Mr. Jacobi suddenly announced, setting plates in front of them before dashing off as quickly as he'd appeared.

The sight of Jack's ham made Crutchie's mouth water. He distracted himself from it by reaching for his sandwich. 

Jack picked up a piece of ham and stared at it hesitantly.

"How is it?" Crutchie prompted with his mouth full.

"S'good," Jack responded after finally taking a bite. He sounded guilty. "Want some?"

Crutchie shook his head quickly before he could change his mind.

"At least have some o' my potato salad," Jack offered.

Crutchie shook his head again and took another bite of his own meal.

"How's your sandwich?" Jack asked.

"Great," Crutchie smiled. It somehow tasted like cardboard and a million bucks at the same time. He chewed slowly, as if it would fill him up more the longer he took to eat it.

An uneasy silence fell upon the two so Crutchie decided to change the subject. "Hey, did ya hear about that baby in Brooklyn that was born with three heads?"

They kept the conversation light as they finished the rest of their meals. It took Jack a while to even consider eating his potato salad but eventually, both boys ate everything on their respective plates.

"So, uh, what are ya gonna do about supper?" Jack asked as they were finishing their drinks.

Crutchie shrugged. "I'll figure it out. I'se still got money, just not a lot of it."

Jack was about to say something in response but Crutchie cut him off.

"Hey, ya win some, ya lose some, Jack. That's all just part of being a newsie."

Chapter Text

4

A bitter wind nipped at the newsboys' noses as they stepped out of the lodging house one morning. Winter had well and truly arrived in New York. Nearly every article of clothing they owned was layered over their shivering bodies but it wasn't enough to keep away the cold.

Yesterday's rainfall had frozen over during the night, leaving scattered ice patches throughout the streets. The sun had barely risen yet which made them difficult to spot.

"Careful, fellas. It's slick," Jack cautioned from the front of the group, then immediately slipped on the ice beneath him. barely managing to stay on his feet. The boys giggled under their breath at him proving his own point.

Crutchie had to be particularly careful on the ice. His crutch had practically no traction on slippery surfaces. One wrong move would undoubtedly send him sliding.

Jack did his best to point out all the slick spots as he led everyone to the distribution center. He kept Crutchie in his peripheral vision at all times and matched his slow pace so that he wouldn't get left behind.

Once everyone had retrieved their copies of the morning paper, the group split up into twos and headed to their usual selling spots. Jack always made them travel in pairs when the weather was dangerous. Race and Albert tagged along with Jack and Crutchie for the first several blocks since their selling spots were nearby.

"You're gonna burn yourself," Albert warned Race, who was trying to use the lit end of his cigar to warm his hands as they walked.

"I'd rather burn than freeze," Race countered.

Meanwhile, Jack was still on the lookout for slick spots. Ice seemed to occupy more and more of the ground the further they ventured. It was getting trickier for Crutchie to maneuver.

The four boys continued along cautiously for another few blocks until they approached an intersection only to discover that the road in front of them had completely frozen over.

Albert and Race shrugged at each other, then began slowly shuffling across.

"Boys, I dunno about this," Jack tried calling after them but they were too far along to turn back.

Crutchie stepped forward to follow them but Jack put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Ey, why don't me and you cut over a few blocks and go around?" Jack offered, moving in front of him. 

"I can make it," Crutchie assured him. This wouldn't be his first time walking on solid ice. It hadn't always gone well in the past but he'd survived.

"Yeah, but I don't want youse gettin' hurt," Jack protested.

"I'll be fine," Crutchie insisted. "It's only a few feet."

Jack let go of Crutchie's shoulder and reluctantly backed out of his way.

Crutchie gently stepped down onto the ice. Once he found his footing, he located a safe spot to lean on his crutch. Doing so, he lightly glided his good foot back and forth to get a sense of just how slick it was. It wasn't too bad but he still had to be careful.

"You sure you don't want a hand?" Jack asked from behind.

Crutchie shook his head no. Linked together, they would both go down if either one of them slipped, and Crutchie didn't want to double his already high odds of falling. He took small, deliberate steps, paying close attention to his balance as he navigated the frozen terrain.

"Careful," Jack muttered every few seconds.

It was a slow process but Crutchie was getting the hang of it. There was more sunlight to work with now which allowed him to determine the worst spots with his eyes rather than with his feet.

Albert and Race had already made it to the other side without incident by the time Crutchie and Jack were even a third of the way across. They watched from the curb in nervous silence.

Crutchie couldn't help but feel like he was holding everyone up but he knew that even at this pace, crossing the road was quicker than finding an alternative route would have been, and he just wanted to get his papes sold while he could still feel his toes. All the extra weight he was having to put on his bum leg in order to keep his balance was really starting to hurt him. He tried hard to block out all of the distractions and stay focused.

Finally after several minutes, Crutchie reached the sidewalk. Race and Albert seemed relieved.

"You did it!" Race exclaimed.

Before Crutchie could respond, he heard Jack shout something behind him. Crutchie turned to see Jack flailing his arms in an attempt to keep his balance but it did him no good. He fell forward and caught himself with his hands before landing softly on his knee.

"Oof," Jack mumbled as he hit the ground.

"Jack!" Race shouted. He was about to run out onto the ice without thinking but Albert grabbed him by the back of his collar before he could.

"Jack, you alright?" Crutchie called to him.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'se fine!" Jack waved him off, already laughing about it. Only about a foot away from the curb now, he was able to crawl over to it and safely stand up.

Albert and Race burst into laughter once they knew that Jack was okay. Crutchie had to bite his lip to keep from joining them.

"Alright, fellas," Jack said as he brushed himself off, clearly a little embarrassed. "We better get goin'. These papes ain't gonna sell themselves."

Chapter Text

5

Crutchie's leg hurt. So did his eye. And his stomach, though he wasn't sure if the latter was from being whacked in the gut repeatedly with his own crutch earlier that afternoon or from hunger.

The Refuge was worse than he'd imagined it to be.

All of the beds in the small bunk room were packed tight with three boys each, four for some. Muffled sobs could be heard from a few of them as they cried themselves to sleep but most were wide awake despite Snyder having ordered everyone into bed hours ago. A couple of poor boys in one corner were hacking and coughing violently into their pillows. Whether or not it had anything to do with the dusty, moldy air they were breathing in, Crutchie wasn't sure, but it was obvious that they were unwell.

Another group of boys sat up in their bunks and talked quietly amongst each other. Crutchie sat with them on the edge of his bunk, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. He mostly stayed out of the conversation, knowing there'd be consequences if he got caught making noise. Besides, he really didn't have anything to say. Staring down at the dirty floor, he desperately tried to take his mind off of his current situation.

He missed the rooftop. Sleeping right out in the open in Jack's penthouse in the sky. Jack. Oh, God, did he miss Jack. And Davey. And the rest of the fellas. He wondered if he would ever get to see them again.

A knock on the window suddenly pulled Crutchie from his thoughts. He flinched at the abrupt loud noise but kept his gaze fixed on the floor, wanting to appear uninvolved in case Snyder heard it and came barging in. Fresh air flooded into the room as Ten-Pin, one of the younger boys, got up to investigate. Crutchie closed his eyes and breathed it in while he could.

He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve absentmindedly until he was startled yet again, this time by Ten-Pin tapping him on the shoulder.

"It's Jack!" the small boy whispered, gesturing toward the window.

Doubtful he'd heard him correctly, Crutchie followed his gaze and sure enough, there was Jack, dangling in front of the second-story window by what looked to be an old rope. All Crutchie could do was blink at him, not fully believing what he was seeing. As embarrassed as he was to be seen like this by anyone he knew, especially Jack, Crutchie was relieved to see a familiar face.

"Hey, Crutchie," Jack greeted him with a weary smile that looked nothing like the big, goofy grin he typically wore but was comforting nonetheless. He motioned for Crutchie to come closer.

Snyder had taken possession of his crutch for the night, but Crutchie wasn't going to let that stop him from getting to Jack. The shooting pain in his leg that had somehow slipped to the back of his mind became front and center once again the second he tried to stand. Wincing, he reached for the bedpost and reseated himself before he could fall over. Only a few steps were needed to get him to the window, but without his crutch, it might as well have been a thousand miles away.

"I can't," Crutchie sighed in defeat, stranded there on the bunk. Before he could say or do anything else, he felt another presence to his left. A young, hat-clad boy whose name Crutchie hadn't learned yet was stood at his side, offering him a hand. Crutchie felt silly for taking it, for needing it, but he had to get to Jack one way or another. The boy seemed far too meager to support Crutchie's weight, but if he was willing to try, Crutchie was willing to let him.

With some difficulty, the boy got Crutchie back into a standing position. Crutchie hooked an arm around the boy's shoulder and, led by Ten-Pin, they slowly made their way to Jack. He felt so naked without his crutch. So much of his identity was tied to it—right down to his nickname—that he hardly felt like himself unaccompanied by it. Each step hurt worse than the last but there was a light at the end of the tunnel in the form of his brother waiting for him at the window.

"Thanks, fellas," Crutchie nodded at the young boys once he'd finally reached his destination. They nodded in return before propping themselves against the nearest bunk.

"Hey, Crutchie," Jack repeated once the two were as alone as they were going to get. His smile was still there but his tone was much more somber than it had been moments ago.

"Jack," Crutchie stared at him through the metal bars, befuddled. "What are ya doin' here?"

"What do ya mean 'What am I doin' here?'" Jack scoffed. "Me and Dave is here to—"

"Dave?" Crutchie interrupted incredulously, looking to the ground below in search of the tall, dark haired boy.

"Yeah," Jack laughed. "Dave's up on the roof."

Crutchie didn't believe him. He craned his neck to see for himself and though the bars prevented him from doing so, a harsh "Shhh!" from above was all the confirmation he needed.

"Alright, Crutch," Jack spoke again. He pulled out a crowbar that he had wedged down the back of his trousers. "C'mon. We's gonna get you outta here."

Crutchie hesitated. The idea of not having to spend a full night in this terrible place made his whole body tingle with excitement, but with the shape he was in, he knew that that idea couldn't possibly be a reality. How was he supposed to climb out of a window when he couldn't even walk over to it on his own? He couldn't outrun Snyder or he wouldn't be here in the first place, and while he feared what was in store for him if he stayed, it terrified him to think what Snyder would do to him if he caught him trying to escape.

"Well, umm..." Crutchie said before trailing off. He'd had to admit defeat too many times already today and it wasn't getting any easier. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. Turning his head before Jack could see them, he bit his lip and took a deep breath through his nose in an effort to keep his composure.

Once he'd gotten his emotions under control, Crutchie turned back to his friend, still avoiding his eyes. "Actually, I, uh..." he tried again. He swallowed hard and finally allowed himself to look back up at Jack. "I ain't been walkin' so good," he admitted. "Snyder soaked me real good with my crutch."

Jack nodded solemnly. "He hurt'cha?"

A nod back was all Crutchie could muster in response.

Jack's brows furrowed in anger. "Ey, don't worry 'bout it," he said after some thought. "Me and Davey'll carry you outta here." He began prying at the metal with the crowbar.

"Jack, wait!" Crutchie interjected at a volume he immediately regretted, prompting another "Shhh!" from Davey. "I... I can't let'cha do that," he whispered.

"Why not?" Jack questioned, surprised.

Crutchie couldn't tell Jack the truth. Not the full truth, anyway. "You'll get caught," he settled on.

Jack scoffed. "We won't get caught!"

"But what if ya do?" Crutchie asked, lowering his voice even more.

Jack stared at him blankly.

"If you and Davey end up in here, the strike'll be done for," Crutchie continued. "You're their leader, Jack. The newsies need you. And Davey's family needs him."

"What about you?" Jack asked.

Crutchie breathed a long sigh and tried to smile. "I'll be fine," he assured, though the tears in his eyes betrayed him. "Good as new," he tried to save himself, but there was no denying the truth.

Jack blinked away tears of his own. He seemed to be searching for something to say.

Suddenly, Crutchie began to hear movement behind him. He turned to see several of the boys hurriedly flopping onto their beds and that's when he noticed the sound of keys jingling through the door.

"Cheese it!" Crutchie whispered back to Jack before quickly throwing himself onto the nearest bed in a maneuver that sent a stabbing pain through his leg. He had to cover his mouth to keep from crying out as Snyder entered the room.

The boys held their breath as Snyder glared suspiciously at each of them, making his way through the room without a word. He stopped briefly to snatch the hat off of the boy who had helped Crutchie earlier.

Crutchie noticed Snyder nearing the window and had to think fast to create a distraction. He grabbed his chest and erupted into a fake coughing fit.

Snyder turned and rolled his eyes at him. He smacked Crutchie across the face with the hat before finally leaving the room, locking the door behind him.

A collective sigh of relief filled the bunk room. Ten-Pin jumped up to check the window, shrugging to confirm no sight of Jack or Davey.

Crutchie stared up at the bunk above him and finally allowed the tears to fall. Damn this place, he thought to himself.

Chapter Text

+1

Blood ran from his busted lip and pooled on the floor under his cheek as he lay there. He searched for his crutch but it was nowhere in sight. A pair of shoes approached him that seemed to belong to a giant from this angle. He tried to move, to scream, to do anything, but he couldn't as one of the shoes slowly swung backwards, then abruptly switched directions, getting closer, and closer, and closer, until...

Crutchie gasped.

The motion had propelled him into a sitting position. Surveying his surroundings, it took him a second to realize that he was on the rooftop of the lodging house and that the moisture on the side of his face was only drool.

Whether he'd been asleep and dreaming or awake and thinking, he wasn't sure. He didn't remember falling asleep. Hell, he didn't really remember going to bed either. His mind had been preoccupied all day with thoughts—memories—as it had been for most of the last month, only today, for whatever reason, he just couldn't shake them. Even in his sleep, apparently.

"What's goin' on?" Jack stirred from the far end of the rooftop, his voice groggy with sleep.

Crutchie startled again at the sound of his voice. "Nothing," he stammered.

Jack lifted his head and stared at him.

"It was just a cramp," Crutchie replied, patting his bum leg. It wasn't the truth, but it was easier to admit, and simpler for Jack to comprehend in his barely awake state.

Jack mumbled something incoherent before nestling back into his pillow.

Crutchie lay back down, craving sleep and fearing it in equal measure. Alone once again with his own thoughts, he tried to push them away but the starless sky was too blank of a canvas to keep them from painting it with stills from the nightmare.

It wasn't real, he reminded himself. It was just a bad dream. That knowledge used to bring him solace when he was younger, and the monsters that threatened him in his sleep were fictional creatures that couldn't actually hurt him. But when the monsters in his dreams were real people, and he knew they could hurt him because they had hurt him, the fact did little to comfort him. Crutchie doubted whether he could even still consider it a fact.

In truth, Crutchie barely knew what was real and what wasn't anymore. He knew he was on the rooftop with Jack, so that must be real. But it didn't feel real. He barely felt real. He barely felt, period. Every feeling, thought, touch, sensation, and interaction felt distant and empty, the way they do in dreams. Oddly, the only feelings that didn't feel like dreaming were the ones he felt when he was dreaming.

Crutchie rolled over and reached for his crutch. He needed a familiar object. Something to tether him to reality and bring his mind back to his body. Pulling it close to him, he ran his fingers along the grooves of the wood, tracing their distinct patterns over and over. It was doing a good job of calming him down until he came across something foreign: A small indentation where part of the wood had splintered off. Crutchie tried to think of how that might have happened and shuddered when he remembered. He pushed the mobility aid away and briskly rolled over again, suddenly unable to even look at it.

"You must really be achin'," Jack spoke suddenly, initially startling Crutchie yet again, but he was glad to be pulled away from his thoughts. He hadn't realized that Jack was still awake.

"Uh... Yeah..." Crutchie responded. Not technically a lie this time.

"Want me to rub it for ya?" Jack offered.

"Sure," Crutchie heard himself say. He knew he should let Jack get back to sleep, but he was willing to take any excuse he could to not be alone. Jack's massages were always nice and comforting when his leg really did hurt. Maybe they could help with this kind of pain, too.

Jack sat up and stretched before crawling over to Crutchie's end of the rooftop. Crutchie stayed on his side with his back to him, keeping his good leg bent while extending his bad one outward. Carefully, Jack lifted it into his lap, wrapping a hand around his calf and moving in slow, gentle strokes.

"That feel better?" Jack asked.

"Mmhm," Crutchie mumbled into his pillow. He tried to relax, to focus on the feeling of Jack's touch, the warmth of his calloused hands and their stability as they methodically kneaded his leg muscles.

But the silence that had fallen between the two was a little loud for Crutchie's liking, and pretty soon, his thoughts were fighting hard for his attention again. 

He looked at his pillow, at the railing, at the city below. It was the same view he'd always fallen asleep to, yet it looked so different now. It felt like everything had changed, when really, Crutchie knew the only thing that had changed was him. A hole had been left in his place when he was taken away, and when he returned, he didn't fit back into it.

I'll be fine. Good as new, he'd told Jack that first night. Oh, how foolish he'd been for even pretending that he'd be able to just go back to normal and pick up right where he'd left off, as if that was even possible. As if anyone could walk out of a place like that the same person they were before getting dragged into it, kicking and screaming.

Crutchie knew he was lucky to have made it out alive, but he felt like he couldn't truly say he'd made it out altogether when so much of him was still there in that awful place. His literal blood, sweat, tears, and so many other pieces of his physical being had been shed there for one thing, along with his dignity, his sense of security, and what might have been the last of his innocence. Not to mention, his mind. Crutchie found it there every time it wandered. It seemed to spend more time there than it did in his own head.

Sometimes he wondered if he had still yet to even make it out at all. If laying on the rooftop as Jack rubbed his leg was the dream he was having whilst still crammed into that filthy bunk, dreading the reality he would wake up to. Or, if he hadn't been so lucky after all, and was only roaming free as a ghost.

It was a dumb thought, he knew, but it made sense. More sense than pulling through all of that did. Maybe it's why he felt so numb nowadays. If it were the case, he didn't want to imagine which of the horrific abuses he endured was the one to do him in, but he couldn't stop himself and before he knew it, he was spiraling.

The memories had returned with full force, each one worse than the last. Crutchie closed his eyes but he couldn't shut them out. Not when they were on the other side of his eyelids. He had no choice but to look at them as they replayed over and over again.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to break the silence.

"Hey, Jack?" he uttered with a shaky breath.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, still rubbing small circles into the back of his leg with his thumbs.

Crutchie couldn't bring himself to turn over and face him. "I, uh... My leg ain't hurtin'," he admitted. "I just..." He didn't know how to say it.

Jack slowly took his hands off of him and waited for him to go on.

"The reason I can't sleep's 'cause I can't quit thinkin' about The Refuge," Crutchie finally blurted out. He wasn't sure when he had started crying but by the end of his sentence, his words were coming out in sobs.

"Aw, Crutch," Jack comforted. He scooted closer to Crutchie and placed a hand on his shoulder.

The tears crescendoed. All of Crutchie's emotions were spilling out of him now that they had an escape route and he couldn't stop them. "Every time I close my eyes, it's like I'm back there again," he cried.

"Ey." Jack ran his palm along Crutchie's arm, trying to soothe him. "S'okay, youse safe now. Snyder can't hurt'cha no more."

Crutchie tensed at the mentioning of that name.

"C'mere," Jack murmured. He took his hand off of Crutchie just long enough for him to sit up, then wrapped him into a hug while he sobbed. "I'm here, I got'cha. S'okay," Jack whispered as he gently combed through Crutchie's hair with his fingers.

It wasn't like Crutchie to accept pity, let alone seek it out. He'd always hated it, but in that moment, it seemed to be the thing that he needed. He allowed himself to melt into Jack's embrace. His sobs were muffled as he cried into his best friend's chest, though coupled with frequent reassuring words from Jack, they were loud enough to quell his racing mind if even a little.

Minutes went by, or maybe they were hours. Crutchie could feel himself gradually returning to the present as his troubled thoughts slowly began to recede, but he really didn't feel any better. The tears were finally letting up, but he still felt numb, and while feeling nothing was arguably better than feeling horrible, it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel good again, to feel okay. To feel normal.

Crutchie cleared his throat. "How long did it take you to feel normal again?"

"What do ya mean?" Jack asked.

"Y'know. When you came back."

"Hmm," Jack hummed contemplatively. "Well..." he trailed off. "I don't know that I ever really did, to be honest with ya."

That was the answer Crutchie was afraid of but also the one he was expecting. "Do you still have nightmares?"

"Yeah, sometimes," Jack replied." But they ain't as bad as they used to be."

Crutchie shuddered as a dry, silent sob escaped him. He seemed to be all out of tears.

"I can't promise ya you'll ever be like ya used to," Jack said, "but I think you're gonna be okay. You're the toughest guy I know."

Crutchie scoffed, not believing a word. He had a lot more strength than some, sure, but there were several people who he considered to be much stronger than himself.

"I mean it, Crutch," Jack went on. "I dunno how ya survived all o' that." Crutchie didn't need to look at him to know that he was crying now, too.

"So did you," Crutchie pointed out.

"Naw," Jack shook his head. "I didn't go through what all you went through." He took a second to collect himself. "And besides, I busted outta there the first chance I got. Youse had the chance to and didn't take it."

"Well, I knew it would'a been worse if I got caught," Crutchie deflected.

"Yeah, but still. I could'a never done that," Jack said. "If you can do that, Crutchie, I think you can do anything."

Crutchie felt the tears returning. "That was the hardest thing I ever done," he admitted and now, both boys were crying.

Jack tightened his grip around him. "I know," he consoled as he rubbed the other's back. "But ey, look at me," he urged after a moment, pulling away a little. "Look at me."

Slowly, Crutchie tilted his chin upward until he could see Jack's eyes which were puffy from the tears they'd been shedding.

"The hard part's done with," Jack assured him. "It's probably gonna take some time, but it's all gonna be okay."

Crutchie nodded. A timid smile crept onto his face as he found himself in another one of Jack's hugs. There in his brother's arms, it was the first time in a while that he actually felt safe. A certain warmth filled the emptiness in his chest, a feeling he didn't recognize as the anger or the fear he was used to. It felt good.

He didn't necessarily believe Jack, but he trusted him. Nothing was going to magically get better overnight. He knew that. But he had hope that maybe things eventually could, and that he could find a new "normal". It wasn't much, but it was something to get him through the night, and for Crutchie, that was enough.