(A/N: Okay look I know I said I wasn't going to update any time soon but my girlfriend and I were rp-ing an alternate Back-From-the-Refuge thing and I just kind of.... Fell in love with it? So enjoy this short little thing while I get to work on part two of Torn for my friend BeckyMarari1808 -M)
The rooftop had seemed so cold. Unfamiliar. Like a beloved storybook with entire chapters ripped from the binding.
But then, suddenly, they were back. The pages were a little bent and stained and the binding was stiff and closed around it just a bit too tight, but the glue holding them together was even stronger than before.
"Ya know," Jack sighed, looking over at his friend, "Now that you'se back, we can go ta' Santa Fe togedda'."
Crutchie's huge (though painful-looking) smile faltered. "Santa Fe," he repeated quietly. Jack turned to him, expecting his usual, happy disposition. The Crutchie that met him, however, looked nothing like the one who used to sit up on this same rooftop and listen to Jack describe his fantasy. Cuts and bruises mingled with the dirt on his face and forearms; a defeated hunch took over his shoulders; his expression might have been found on someone five times his age- someone who had seen war and poverty and everything life had to throw at them. Jack stared at him a long moment.
"I'm sorry," he murmured finally, words barely making it out of his throat. Crutchie looked at him, a small, pained smile adorning his features. But it wasn't the same. It was never the same.
"It's alright, Jackie. There wasn't nothin' you could'a done," Crutchie said, staring Jack in the eyes.
God, his eyes. Jack had always marveled at their blue-ish green hue- how beautiful the color was and the remarkable little sparkle that was always there, right between where the pupil met the iris. But now- even now, as I should say- even as they were bloodshot and rimmed with red and glassy with unshed tears, they were beautiful.
"I could've been there," Jack found himself saying, mind still on his friend's stunning eyes. "I could've done.... Something."
"Like what?" Crutchie asked, searching Jack's face. "Fight off Snyder and the Delanceys at the same time? Ya might be a good soaka', Jack, but you ain't that good. Spida' would'a locked you up in the Refuge, too. And then where would we be? Still in that dirty, stinking, rat-infested...." Crutchie huffed, trying to find a word strong enough. "Hellhole."
"But we'd'a been togedda'," Jack said quietly. "I could'a protected you."
"They would'a busted you up even worse," Crutchie replied, and Jack knew he was right. But he couldn't find it in him to care.
If only there was a time.... A place where maybe they didn't have to worry about Snyder or the Delanceys or the Refuge. Maybe none of this would have happened.
"If we were in Santa Fe, Crutchie, we wouldn't hafta deal with any o' that. We could just.... Be. We could live there, together. You and me," he paused, a dreamy smile on his face. "You and me and the cactuses. And a palomino."
He caught Crutchie's look and the smile dropped from his face. "Now, look. I know, I know it's ridiculous and- and.... Stupid, you know. Dreamin' is for little kids, right? But it's nice to think. To escape, sometimes, you know?" He sighed, frustrated, clenching his hands into fists and digging his nails painfully into his palms. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe having a dream about being somewhere else was naïve and foolish and a terrible coping mechanism for a poor childhood.
"Jack." Crutchie's gentle voice carried towards him, drawing the newsie in name out of his head.
"It is dumb, Crutch. I know it. I just...." His hands trailed up his face, fisting in his hair. "I don't know anymore."
"Jack," Crutchie repeated, shifting the crutch of his namesake under his arm.
"I don't know anything." His hands drew back across his face, wiping tears of frustration from his eyes. Suddenly, Crutchie was in front of him, gently taking Jack's hands from his face.
"It's alright, Jackie," he murmured, holding his friend's hands in his. "Havin' dreams don't stop when you get older. They're part of what makes life wonderful." Crutchie smiled softly before pulling Jack into a hug. The latter immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms securely around his small friend as though protecting him from the world. "The otha' parts obviously being me and the fellas," Crutchie grinned after a moment, pulling away and smiling up into Jack's face.
Jack allowed himself a small smile. Crutchie's eyes glimmered in the light as he watched it form, and Jack watched them sparkle, captivated by the way they caught the light. Slowly, he reached out to rest a hand on Crutchie's cheek, careful to avoid the bruises.
"You're okay?" Jack's voice was barely above a whisper, as though the words scratched and scraped his throat on the way out. Still, the other boy heard. Of course he did- Crutchie's rather large ears had been tuned to Jack's softly husky voice since he had met him on the street. It had happened just as easily as Crutchie's answer now fell from his lips.
"I'm okay, Jackie. We're okay."
Two words. Two simple, perfect words. And Jack's heart felt as though it might just fly out of his chest. He smiled, pulling Crutchie's face closer so he could rest their foreheads together.
Not against each others'- Jack vowed he'd never let himself go against Crutchie again. Never against each other.
Together.
Because there, in that old, rusted fire escape on the top of an even older, mustier building- their penthouse in the sky, made of sunrises and late-night sketches and tales of faraway dreams, that was all they had.
Together.
