Seize The Day || Newsies Oneshots

No Newsie Left Behind (Pt. 1)

Jack's hands shook, knuckles ghosting white as worn fingers tightened around the metal rail keeping him from plummeting into the empty streets below. Sharp needles of brutal cold pricked into his skin, breath fogging in front of his face. He watched the faint tendrils of air drift up into the blanket of stars; making the escape he so desperately longed for.

"I got nothin' if I ain't got Santa Fe..."

A quiet whisper carried away on the wind, absorbed by the symphony of the city. He'd spent too long up here, that was made clear enough by the ache of his body with every small shift in his movement. But he couldn't bring himself to get down, all Jack could do was lose himself in the haven his mind had in store for him. The intimidating buildings of New York were replaced with quaint and simply built houses, plumes of smoke climbing up from the chimneys. The wide streets, often crowded with bustling people, rich and poor alike, faded into dirt pathways covered in rocks and carved with the history of passing wagons and adventurous spirits looking for their next rush of adrenaline.

That wishful, welcoming feeling drowned out his conscious, submerging him in the best kind of torture; the longing for something so close but so far away. That sense of belonging just out of reach, frozen fingers just barely grazing the bold idea of safety; the feeling of being home.

But just as always, each time without fail, that feeling was ripped away from him; the frigid air pulled him from the warm sense of security and shoved him back into reality with a force so strong it damn near knocked him off his feet.

"Jack, what are you doing up here-? It's cold as hell." David's voice sounded from behind him; the source of Jack's dreaded return to the real world.

"I'm sick of it here, Davey. I can't do this no more." He choked out, stepping away from the railing and turning to face the boy.

"This is about Crutchie...isn't it?"

Jack huffed sharply, the action visible in the frozen air, hands fisted by his side,aching muscles tensing up. That unending self hatred paired with his uncontrolled frustration was brimming up and getting ready to burst.

"It's 'bout Crutchie. It's 'bout the Strike. It's 'bout evry' one o' them boys who got beat down because I told 'em to fight-!"

"That ain't your fault, Jack-"

"It sure as hell is! And you's shouldn't be fightin' me on this, ya own damn brother almost got hurt 'cuz I was stupid enough to think we might actually win this."

He watched Dave inhale, flinching against the sting of the cold. Jack could tell the wheels in his head were spinning, thinking up some response that would pull the union back together. But no matter what came out of that mouth, Jack still couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of guilt.

"Save it, Davey. Whateva you heart warming speech ya give ain't gonna get Crutchie back."

And there it was, out in the open, free and exposed for judgement and mocking and brutal abuse. His deepest weakness, his biggest fear, the thing that kept him awake at night as he stared at the crippled boy across the platform from him, sleeping without a care in the world.

"So...it is about him." Dave stated matter-of-factly, unfazed by the revelation. Either he'd known the whole time or Jack was just shit at hiding his feelings. He had an unshifting feeling that it was more than likely both.

"'Course it's 'bout him-! It's...it's always been 'bout him." Jack's shoulders fell in defeat, tearing his eyes away from David and letting his gaze drift off to the skyline, the endless beginning to that blanket of stars he'd spent too many nights under. "It's my fault he's in the Refuge, ain't it? My fault I just stood there and watched Snider beat him with own his crutch- watched him drag him down the streets. You's gonna stand there and tell me I couldn't have done somethin' instead of standin' there and watchin' like a damn moron."