Summary: Jack saves Les from a run-in with a drunk. He gets injured in the process. Through this, his friends learn a bit more about him and his time at the Refuge.

Okay, here's a multiparter for ya! I haven't decided if I want three parts or two... but there will be multiple parts (each from a different perspective).

This one has been in my head for a while, it is in the same universe as my others but post-strike. It being my first post-strike story, it's the first time I've written for Les and Davey. Neither of which I'm very good at. It's like... I combine the Movieverse and Musicalverse into one character. If it's awful, you can let me know. 

Heavy accents are meant to be that way because of selling tactics/drunkness/bloodloss.

And if this starts to sound rambly and less coherent...  it's meant to be that way. I try to write in a similar way to what the character is thinking/feeling. Let me know if it works! 

Anyway, enjoy and leave lots of comments!

WARNINGS: Violence, Injury, Panic/Anxiety Attack, PTSD, Mentions of Past Child Abuse

Stay safe and enjoy!

~TH~

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I di'n mean ta bother ya. If'n I wasn't a poor orphan I wouldn' 'ave ta." Les finished with a deep cough. The ladies eyes grew twice there normal sizes before she took the paper and handed him a nickel. 

Jack couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his lips as the boy rushed over to show him. "Did you see that Jack! She gave me a nickel! A whole one!" His thick accent now almost completely gone. 

"Ya did good kid." He ruffled his hair. "Now, go find an'uder one, yeah?"

Les nodded excitedly before running off with another paper. 

Jack leaned against the wall, pulling his hat over his eyes, content to let the almost-ten-year-old sell their remaining pape. Things were going good, all things considering. The strike had been over for nearly a month and things had gotten back to at least semi-normal. Davey and Les were still selling and would continue to through the summer.  From the looks of things, they would both be returning to school come fall. Jack tried not to think about it. 

Katherine, on the other hand, seemed determined to make the Newsies a permanent part of her life. She had brought food to the Lodging House a few times. It helped. He just hoped she stuck around until winter. The headlines had been pretty good, especially following the strike, but as winter approached, selling was hard and food was scarce. She said she would stay around. He believed her... for the most part. He knew he loved her and she seemed to love him, but that didn't always mean she would stay. She still didn't know everything about him. There were some things even the boys didn't know about him (though those closest to him probably suspected). 

"Come on, mister. It's just one pape! M'uh last one too!"

Jack followed the voice to find the boy standing slightly to close to an older man leaning against the wall, bottle in hand. Drunks sometimes were willing to pay just to get the kids to leave them alone, but you needed an eye for it. Some drunks could get violent fast. 

The older Newsie slowly made his way towards the two, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. 

"Ge' 'way, kid." Yup. This guy was thoroughly drunk. 

"But sir! You wouldn't wish ill on a poor, sick-"

"Hey, Les, this place  is slowing down, let's find a new spot."

The kid didn't catch on to the subtle hint. "But this is my last pape! And this guy is gonna buy it from me, right mister?"

"I ain't buy'n nothin'!" The man lunged at the smaller boy. Jack pushed Les out of the way, falling to the ground under the man's weight. He struggled to push the man off of him, but this man was older, bigger, and despite being drunk was putting up a pretty good fight. 

He turned his head to see Les staring at him with wide frightened eyes. The kid tended to be pretty tough, but this was scaring him. "Les, listen to me, go find Davey and- arg!" He shouldn't have looked away, a sharp pain in his side told him that. Was that a knife? No, the bottle must have broken when they fell and, well it might as well have been a knife. 

Panting for breath, Jack kicked as hard as he could, managing to get the man off of him. Les was gone, that was good. He must have gone to get Davey. He looked down to see blood coming from his side. That wasn't good.

His back was suddenly slammed against the wall. He heard a few people around him gasp. Had they been there the whole time? The man was pinning him to the wall. 

Not good. Not good. Not again. No. He was fine. He would get out of this. This wasn't Snyder. This wasn't like before.

A piece of the broken bottle was coming closer to his throat, he put up his left hand to block it, but his hand was shaking. The sharp jagged edges kept inching forward until they were pressed against his neck, he could feel it biting into his skin. He tried to kick out, but only managed to lose his grip and accidentally scrape the shard against his throat. The man pressed harder on Jack's right wrist as the Newsie's left tried to find a new angle to push the glass away. 

A loud whistle, then a crash, and the weight was off of him. A police officer stood over the drunk man, attaching handcuffs.

"Hunny, are you alright?" Jack turned at the voice. It was an older woman. He stared at her, trying to get his lungs to work. So many noises and lights and people and - 

"Son," Bulls. He spun his head to find an officer stepping towards him. He pressed himself against the wall, trying to force himself to breathe normally. "What happened?"

He couldn't- 

He wouldn't-

He needed-

He finally pushed off from against the wall and took off sprinting in the opposite direction. His side hurt and his neck stung and he was dizzy and he couldn't breathe, but he just needed to get away. 

"Jack!" His eyes focused ahead of him. 

"Davey?" He breathed, not completely believing.

"Hey, hey Jack, look at me." 

His breathing began to slow and the world around him came back into focus. 

"Jack. Answer me." Davey patted him on the cheek slightly, his eyes scanning him and coming to rest on the blood trickling down his throat.

"Answer what?"

Davey's eyes snapped back up to his face, "Are you okay?" He said it slowly. Jack realized he must be repeating himself.

"'M fine." He was, right? He would be fine. 

"You're bleeding." 

"Barely a scratch."

Davey took off his empty bag and wiped it along the cut. It wasn't deep. Jack knew it wasn't because he'd be dead already if it was.

"It doesn't seem dangerous," he smirked, "looks messy though. Gonna have trouble selling papes with all the blood on your neck. 

Jack worked to return the smile.

"Let's go back to the Lodging House and get you cleaned up." Davey led the way, Les giving a shy smile at Jack before walking side-by-side with his big brother.

Jack stood there for a moment. Everything was slightly off-kilter. He felt dizzy, but he wasn't sure why. They had just cleared up that his neck wasn't that bad... he took a step forward to follow Davey-

His side. That was it. His side. He let out a sharp gasp, struggling to keep his balance. Davey turned around and quickly steadied his friend.

"Jack, what's wrong? What happened?" 

The leader of the Newsies didn't answer, squeezing his eyes tightly. He could handle this, it would be fine. He'd had worse. 

"It's nothin'." He breathed unconvincingly. 

Davey's eyes travelled to where Jack was subconsciously clutching his side. He pulled away his friend's hands and was met with a mess of dark blood oozing from a deep cut.

"Jack!" He exclaimed, seemingly startled. 

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" Les was keeping his distance, dancing around nervously.

Davey spun around, nearly knocking Jack over in the process, "Les, go find Racetrack. Tell him Jack's hurt and to meet us back and the Lodging House."

"No," Jack gasped out, feeling the full pain in his side now that the shock had worn off. "Don-don't bother Race. I'll be fine." 

All Davey did was nod and the younger boy took off. 

"Not that big a deal." The words came out slightly mumbled. "Jus' gonna worry 'im for no reason."

Davey sighed, rapping Jack's arm around his shoulder, "You're bleeding. A lot. It's why you're so dizzy."

"I've had cuts before." He ground out between harsh breaths. Even with the support, every step he took was agony. How had he not realized how bad it hurt before?

Davey didn't answer and just continued their excruciatingly slow walk back to the Loading House.

~N~

Jack didn't know how long it took to get back, but he knew it was much longer than it should have been. He's pretty sure he closed his eyes somewhere about the halfway mark. He could open them. Davey kept reminding him to every few minutes. 

"Hey," Davey jostled him slightly, causing him to hiss. "Sorry, but we're here."

He opened his eyes to see the front of the place he called home. From the other direction, he saw Race sprinting towards him. Their walk must have taken even longer than he thought, unless the gambler was already on his way back from Sheepshead when Les caught up with him. 

His second in command slipped under his other arm and helped Davey walk him up the stairs. They might have been talking. He wasn't sure. This was embarrassing. He could walk by himself. A sharp pain in his side had all three of them stopping to allow him to catch his breath. Maybe not right now.

Had that drunk broken a rib? He shouldn't be in this much pain from a little cut. 

Wait, was Race talking to him?

"Jack!"

"Huh?"

"We need to lay you down, okay? We have to use the floor because ain't nobody gonna want blood in their bed and the only table we got is for cards and not near big 'nough for ya." Race was rambling. He did that when he was nervous. 

"'M fine." 

A breathy laugh, "Sure ya are Jack."

He was laid down on his back. He knew he was on the floor, but where? Wait, when had he closed his eyes again? The bunk room? RIght, they had gone up stairs. He remembered that now.

Something was pressed against his side and he struggled to move away from it. 

"Sit still, we gotta stop the bleedin'." Race again. Davey was gone. So was Les. He vaguely remembered Davey sending him home at some point. 

"Jack!"

"Huh?" His eyes shot open.

"Yous gotta stay awake, kay?" Jack could feel Race's hands shaking as they pressed a cloth into his side. He wanted to comment but really couldn't muster up the willpower to do it. 

Davey returned with several cloths and a bowl of water. He knelt down beside Race, pulling his hand back slightly. He lifted the side of his shirt. 

"We gotta get him on his stomach. The cut is closer to his back and it's hard to reach from here." While Race's hands were his giveaway, Davey just sounded panicked. 

The two boys worked to roll him over. Jack wanted to protest but didn't. He was able to help some but just had no energy.

"We need to get his shirt off. We could cut it off, I'm pretty sure this one is ruined anyway." 

Race's hands stilled. "I, uh, ain't so sure that's a good idea."

"What do you mean? We have to-"

"No." Jack rasped out. "Don-don' like it. Jus' work 'round it."

"Jack, we can't we need it off."

"No!" They didn't understand. They didn't know. Jack had never let any of the boys see his back, his scars. Race, Race probably suspected, but Davey? He would have no idea how bad it was. He didn't need to know. No one did. His scars were his own. His paintings of the Refuge had been published for all to see, but this, this was too personal to let anyone else see. Not even Crutchie had seen...

Laying on his stomach had made it harder to breathe. He let out a cry as the pain in his side seemed to become worse. He struggled to control his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Jack, hey Jack stay with me." Now Race sounded panicked. He wanted to listen, he really did, but it hurt and he couldn't breathe and the sound was slowly starting to fade and then the darkness behind his eyelids started turning completely black. His body relaxed. The pain was gone. He was fine. The sound was completely gone. Everything was completely black. He was fine.

~TH~

Like I said, more to come!

I'm definitely writing a chapter from Race POV, but I'm debating on Davey. I guess it depends on what you guys thought of his portrayal here.

Any thoughts? Critiques? Questions? Random remarks?

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it <3

God bless,
Jamie