Chapter 1

Jack Kelly was tall. Well, he was tall enough. Older than most of the other boys in his selling district, he tended to be regarded as tall, especially against the kids. So, when a mess of black curly hair with brown eyes and a tiny kid in tow showed up and claimed the rank of "tallest", Jack was intrigued, and a little annoyed. Jack wasn't one to pry on new kids too much, but he was too intrigued to let it slide. Not to mention the fact that the new kid had a little brother with him, and a little brother could likely sell papes faster than Crutchie could. Still, he would wait for an open opportunity to approach the "tallest" of the Newsies.

And it didn't matter if newbie was tall, because Jack was the leader here. Well, he didn't think of himself as a leader as much as the big brother of all of the boys. And as the oldest, though now certainly not the wisest, it went uncontested and unsaid. But any newsie could ask Jack for help, and Jack would do his best. Then, breaking Jack's concentration, the new boy spoke.

"I'll take 20 papers," The kid said, and without a dime on the box. Jeez, Jack had a lot to teach this newbie. Like, 'don't piss off the Delancey Brothers on your first day'.

"You only gave me 19," The boy accused. And Jack stiffened. He could see exactly what was about to happen. A fist was gonna punch the extremely brown eyes of the tall one, and the kid with him was gonna have to run. But a newsie was a newsie, no matter their background or when they joined. This newbie was no different, so Jack knew he had to step in. He couldn't let this new kid get the heat on his first day. So Jack stepped over and took the papers from the boy with the brown eyes. He counted them and interrupted Wiesel's spill.

"Ay, new kid's right. I'm sure it's an honest mistake on the count of Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on," Jack joked and handed the papers back to the new kid. Maybe he spent too long looking at the kid after, because he missed it when Oscar nearly popped a vein. Nothing he hadn't seen, or for that matter caused, before though. Jack finally pulled his attention away from the new kid long enough to turn back to Wiesel. He stepped to the box and set a coin on it. "Give the new kid fifty more papes."

But the kid didn't want more papes. What newsie didn't want more? Maybe one who didn't want to be a newsie. Jack was no longer annoyed now, more confused. Confused why this brown eyed, black haired, tall, nicely dressed boy was here at all, and why he cared enough to buy the kid and his brother more papes. If you asked him, he'd say it was because he was just doing it because that's what he'd do for the other newsies. Because the young one would sell more papes. Because he was new. He would never admit he felt something, even if he didn't know what that something was.

Jack was unsure about what he should do, or rather, how to approach the situation. And he didn't know how to feel about the fact that the young one knew him, but the brown eyed boy didn't. Did it bother him? Not necessarily. It just confused him more. So Jack offered to sell with them, split the pay, like he would with any other new newsie around.

After all, like Race said, it rubbed right off.

As they walked out of the square, the kid put his hand out to shake. "I'm Les by the way, and this is David. But I call him Davey."

So he, Les and Davey sat in Jack's usual spot, going back and forth, taking turns with the customers, and as the sun set, they had a single paper left. Snatched up by the youngest he now knew to be Les, it was sold within a minute.

"Hey Davey your brutha's a natural." A ghost of a smile hinted at David's mouth.

"Maybe he is. We better get home. The folks are waiting." With that, Davey pulled Les along, leaving Jack alone on an unforgiving street.

Jack watched the two walk away, and that only made him wonder why they were here. Lucky boys, they had folks. But...if they had a family and they were that well dressed, what were they doin' out on the streets? Why were they selling papes? Why did David talk like he did? He didn't have a street accent, and seemed to be smart.

With a sigh, he started to go up to his "penthouse" in the sky. The streets were unusually quiet, the vendors were gone early and the usual crowd was probably in the police station. It was a calm peaceful night if Jack had ever known one. At least until he heard the patter of foot steps, and heavy breathing. "Jack you forgot your two bits," Davey breathed out. Les followed soon after. Luckily Jack was only half way up the first story when they came back. Jack jumped down and smiled as Les handed him his money. He didn't see Snyder lurking around on a fire escape. Unluckily, Snyder had seen Jack. But Les noticed the man in the shadows.

Les tugged on Jack's sleeve. "Hey, who's that?" Before Jack could turn, Snyder was starting to run down and after him.

"YOU," Jack heard. He didn't need to see to know who it was.

"RUN!" Jack ducked down, grabbed Les and swung him on his back, taking David's hand and sprinting through the alleys of Manhattan. This was the opposite of good, because Jack was not about to allow these two boys to slip into the grasp of Snyder the Spider. And so he headed for the only place in all of the world that he trusted enough to dive into.

The theatre.

He swung open the door and sprinted inside, dragging the two along with him.

"Remind me again why I'M running?" Davey asked through long breaths.

"Because you don't want to end up where he would take you." And with that, Jack stopped talking. He just breathed. Breathed in the ink and smoke smell from himself. Breathed in the strangely pleasant, soapy, sweetness of Davey. Not yet covered with grime from the street, or the ink from the press. Blue eyed innocence was an oddity in his business. And he wanted to keep those eyes blue and bright.

"No children in the theater!" And out slipped the moment. And in slipped reality, along with the realization of how CLOSE they were. And how hot it was. Jack turned quickly.

"Not even me, Miss Medda?" Jack asked with a grin. He recognized the voice immediately of course, and leaned over the bannister to look down at her.

"Jack Kelly, is that you? Man of mischief! Get yourself down here and give me a hug!" The talented woman replied with a smile of her own.

Jack was always welcome by Miss Medda. In truth, he considered her a mother. As close to a mother as Jack was going to have. He moved down the stairs and ran across the stage to engulf her in a hug. He hoped Davey and his brother would follow.

Miss Medda, what a woman she was. Jack often slept in her theater when it rained or snowed, or when cruchie slept indoors. But time together was short, she was a star after all, and as Medda was swept on stage and Les disappeared into the crowd, Jack pulled Davey into an empty box to watch the show. He noticed that Davey actually could smile. A brilliant blinding one too. Jack never could have planned anything like this.

Jack didn't know how to describe what he was feeling, but he had to be feeling something. It was intense and new, and it made him watch Davey more than the show. Which was new, because he would always, always pay attention to Miss Medda. He wondered if what he was feeling was love. It couldn't be, because love at first sight was for suckers. He had heard and read about it plenty of times. He just never believed in it. But now...

No. He had no use for moonlight, and damn it he would not be writing poetry about Davey's brown eyes and perfect freaking smile and his curly black hair. He never planned on Davey. Never planned on any of this.

In a desperate attempt to get his messy mind off of the seemingly perfect boy besides him, Jack looked back to where Miss Medda stood, singing her heart out for everyone. And the backdrop he had painted in his spare time, he would do anything for the woman who would do the same for him.

His foster mom provided temporary relief from his nearly obsessive thoughts. As did the lady reporter, Katherine, who he met earlier today, who was seated across the way and would occasionally make a face to make Jack giggle. He knew they would end up being friends. But Jack unaware of the brown eyes that were focused on him. Focused on memorizing every little detail in case it was all a dream. Thinking nearly everything Jack was thinking.

Jack tried to focus on the two ladies in front of him. It was so hard when there was what seemed to be perfection besides him, but he managed until the show was over. And when it was, he was quick to escape Davey and make his way to Miss Medda. He spilled compliments about how great the show was, and how Miss Medda was amazing as always.

As he complimented Medda, David and Les slipped away into the night and on towards home. As the theater lights dimmed and Medda left, Jack found his old hiding spot in the overly large broom closet to still be intact. He picked up a few blankets and lay down. Those god damned brown eyes still haunted his thoughts though, and he picked an old lullaby for himself that Miss Medda would sing him.

"And its clean and green and pretty..."

Jack just found himself hoping that Davey and Les made their way home safely. With the lullaby still echoing in his head and the picture of the boy's brown eyes in his mind, he tried to fall asleep. At least here, he was safe from Snyder. He just hoped he didn't worry Crutchie too much. With all the loose thoughts rattling around, Jack finally succumbed to oblivion. Never would he imagine that things were about to turn upside down, or that Pulitzer had inadvertently put into motion a series of events that would force the hand of the city, and all of its invisible workers. Or that Jack would be out in the center of it all.

The circulation bells, though muffled by the walls of the theatre, still managed to break Jack from his sleep. Or maybe it was because he was so used to waking up at that time every day...

Still, without compliant, he got up and set everything back into its rightful place. He straightened himself out, adjusted his clothes, and stepped out of the theatre.

Now, he just had to make it to the square.

Co-Written by APHTomatoSauce