JackCrutchie Oneshots

Crutchie is Hurt- Of Course Jack is There

Spring fell over New York City in rain that year. A cold rain that fell deep and ran into your veins if you stayed in it too long.

Jack always stayed in it for too long.

He was cold in the best way. Dressed in a dark jacket that hugged him tightly, the cap he wore nearly stuck to his head, and a warm drink in his hand, he welcomed the rain like an old friend; nervous at first but couldn't let go when it had to leave.

He walked along the city streets, his phone off and sipping at his drink. He drank his coffee with lots of cream, although no sugar. He usually didn't mind it when it was cold outside. But it wasn't healthy anyways and, in cold coffee, always stayed stuck at the bottom.

Jack was about to go back home, looking for his car. He sighed, remembering why he hated driving in New York; he could never find his car.

Passing by an alleyway, he thought he may have parked near, crying from the depths of the alleyway shocking him, making him jump out of his skin.

"Hello?" Jack cringed at how horror-movie he felt, knowing talking to the darkness was what got you murdered. "Anyone there?"

Nothing. He stayed for a moment more.

About to turn away, a weak voice called out, "J-Jack?"

"What?" Jack nearly dropped his coffee, wondering who could have possibly been in there. He stepped slightly deeper into the alley.

"Jack, it's m-me-"

"Crutchie?" Jack recognized the voice to be his dear friend, Crutchie Morris. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, turning on the flashlight. He threw his drink in a trash can before looking around for Crutchie, it suddenly tasting far too bitter.

"Where are you, kid? What happened?"

"T-They got me, Jacky-"

If another sentence could have broken his heart more, it was that one. He didn't even know what was going on in the first place. If the sentence broke his heart, what he saw destroyed him. His best friend was lying on the stone floor of the alleyway, blood and bruised, battered even. There was a cut on Crutchie's lip that was profusely bleeding and dirt all over his face. His leg was bent in a way Jack hadn't seen before.

"Crutchie, kid-" Jack leaned down, hands hovering over Crutchie's body. "What the hell-"

"The Delancey's-"

"I'll kill them."

"Jack-"

"Where the hell did they-"

"Jack, k-kinda bleeding h-here." Crutchie was able to laugh but it turned into a cough that rattled in his chest.

"Shit, sorry-" Jack sucked in a breath. "What can I do?"

"Help me up-" Crutchie hoped Jack hadn't heard how his voice cracked. "But, be careful? Please."

"Of course, God, of course, Crutchie." He placed his arm around Crutchie, nearly stopping when Crutchie shouted in pain. "I'll stop, are you okay?"

"I'm okay-" Crutchie mumbled, his voice watery, "My leg hurts real bad."

"I'll get you help, I'll call an ambulance-"

"No!" Crutchie bit his lip hard. "Please, don't do that. The thought is nice, but please, don't do that."

Jack sighed, "I have to get you somewhere."

"Is your car h-here?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound like he was demanding that he got into Jack's car, especially with how dirty he was. "I'm sorry, no, I'll mess up your car."