A Newsies Carol

Part Two: Chains

Hello again!

I once again apologize if the formatting is awful, I'm still not used to Wattpad. I think I've got more grasp on it now, however.

This chapter is largely narration, but as my goal is not to bore you, I promise it gets exciting by the end.
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Presently, the hour for closing up the law firm arrived. With it came the entrance of a golden-haired, green-eyed young man whom Jack had known well enough to love, once. He entered the offices without being bade in, standing as straight-backed as he could while leaning on a wooden crutch. Race waved hello to this man as he put away his books, then swapped the comforter around his shoulders for a real jacket and scarf.

The slightly younger newcomer walked closer to the assistant's seat, then made some request in a hushed tone unable to reach Jack's ears. In reply, Race shook his head, cast a furtive glance at his boss, and proceeded to occupy himself with putting out his fire, a task that did not require the level of intense effort he awarded it.

A light rap on the doorframe informed Jack that the man with the crutch had crossed his threshold. "Evening."

"Charlie." Jack did not look up, intent on avoiding the contagious grin no doubt lighting his office with its glow. He could have addressed the man by his nickname, Crutchie, but doing so would have implied that Jack carried a shred of compassion for this person his assistant knew, which he most certainly did not. It had been years since Mr. Kelly had allowed himself to care for anyone.

"I don't s'pose you'll be joinin' us for dinner tomorrow?" asked Charlie, not so hopeful as he should have been.

"No. I'll be working." Jack replied, "So'll Higgins, unless..." he raised his head, eyes traveling past Charlie to Race, who was still tending that fire. "I assume you'll be wantin' the whole day tomorrow?"

Turning around, Race rose. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, forgetting the soot and ink that stained it. "If it's alright with you, sir."

"It is not. How'd ya like it if I cut yer salary for not showin' up?" Race smiled halfheartedly, but did not speak. "Ev'ry year I lose my assistant an' a full day's work!"

"Mr. Kelly, it's Christmas," observed Charlie. "Only comes once a year."

"I know that. I'm givin' him the holiday, aren't I?"

"That wasn't entirely clear-"

"You wouldn't know, as ya don't 'ave a job yerself, but this is how an employer grants his workers an undeserved day off." Standing, Jack slipped on his own coat, buttoned it, and tasked himself with quenching the barely glowing coals in his stove. After he had done so, he swept past Higgins into the front room. "Be here twice as early the next mornin', ya hear?"

"Yes, Mr. Kelly," returned Race, nodding vigorously. "Thank you."

"Good. And you," the man rounded on Charlie before departing. "Get a job. Lousy crip." The last phrase was muttered audibly; what did Jack care if the younger man took offense to it? It was people like him that were the problem, useless people who couldn't look after themselves, who forced the wealthy and well-off to part with their hard-earned cash every holiday season.

Years before, Jack had associated himself with such people. He had been the person looking after a whole load of them, those newsies. David Jacobs had carried the same burden, having an invalid father back then. Often, Jack reminded himself that if Mr. Jacobs hadn't had such a horrible injury, Davey never would have become his friend. As time stretched the present further from his partner's death, it became increasingly difficult to discern whether that friendship had been worthwhile. On one end of the scale, the answer was yes. Davey had given Jack a purpose in the world, a profession that didn't involve silly drawings for a man who held no appreciation for his work. Because of Davey, Jack was somebody, and that was worth everything in his book. Despite this, on occasions such as Christmas Eve, when Jack thought back on his companionship with the Jacobs boy, he questioned its ultimate value. Was it better to be a nobody who had wonderful people in his life than somebody who had no one? What did he have to show now, besides his business?