Chapter Text
It was an early morning, all the newsies were getting ready to work that day. It was a normal day. Completely average.
Then again, it had been an average day when the group of boys had started the strike. But that was months ago, and there weren’t going to be anymore strikes or strange inconveniences. Not many, at least.
“Racer!” Jack called out, making his way down from his penthouse in the sky.
“Yeah?” his friend responded, walking towards him.
Jack smiled at how Racetrack looked ready for the day. He normally wasn’t so quick to get dressed and cleaned, but lately he had been getting ready and out the door earlier and earlier. “Try not to stay out too late tonight, ‘kay?” Jack asked. “I’se is gonna need some help with the younga kids.”
Race nodded, and started walking towards the door. Something about today made him antsy, but he wasn’t sure why. Yeah, he was going into Brooklyn that day, but it wouldn’t be for long, nor would he go too far into the dangerous borough. Maybe he felt strange knowing he wasn’t going to be able to see Spot that day. The thought alone was enough to make him frown.
But today wasn’t the day for forbidden romance. While the strike had been settled three months ago, Racetrack still had business to take care of. You see, after getting stomped on by the bulls, after Crutchie was dragged off to the refuge and Jack went missing, Race was worried out of his mind. Worried for Jack, Crutchie, and all the other newsies of Lower Manhattan. When they were at Jacobi’s after the fight, Race’s mind was busy trying to find some way to lighten the mood- something other than the few empty jokes he could muster up. That’s when Katherine waltzed in, proclaiming their “front page” rise to fame. Jackpot! Race gathered smiles onto the once sullen faces of his brothers by giving them the thought that they could be kings, even just for a day.
And it worked; it worked wonders. But as the strike came to an end, Race just couldn’t bare to see his brother’s in any glum moods, so he took it upon himself to get the boys the things they wanted most- the things they dreamed aloud about that day in Jacobi’s.
Some were easy. Henry simply wanted a sandwich, and damn it, Race was gonna make it for him, and make it the best he ever had. Others were difficult. Jojo was wishing for a gold watch, which was just a little out of Race’s budget. But, he would make do. Anything for his brothers.
So Race was getting up earlier, to get his papes earlier, to sell earlier, and to be done early enough to have the money to get his friends their small treasures.
That night he planned on taking a big risk to try and get the closest he could to a gold watch. No, he wasn’t gonna steal- Jack would soak him for that. But gambling, now that was something Race had much more experience with. Maybe he would have to cheat a little, but he was careful, and he knew Jack wouldn’t be the wiser.
Well, that would have worked if Race hadn’t gotten caught last minute. And not by jack, but the goons he was playing an “easy” game of cards with.
They soaked Race so bad he couldn’t even make it all the way to the Lodging House. His legs gave out a little less than a block away, and that’s where he lay for close to an hour.
Jack was getting tired of waiting for Race once it was two hours after curfew. Some of the other boys thought Race was in the refuge, and Jack was starting to think so too. But he wasn’t going to just wait in the house for him all night and then assume the worst. The longer he stayed inside, the more his mind wandered, so eventually he just had to get out a search the streets.
He’d gotten to the end of the road and called out his brother’s name, but couldn’t hear a response, so he walked a little farther and called again. That time, however, he heard a weak voice mutter something along the lines of “help.”
At an alarming speed, Jack took off towards the sound of that oh-so-familiar voice and found horrors laying in the bushes.
It was dark, but Jack could still see the dried up blood caked along the side of Racetrack’s face. He saw the torn up shirt the younger boy wore and the bruises that were already forming. He saw how his usually curly hair lay flat against his head, how all his clothes stuck to his thin frame. Soaked to the bone.
“Jesus, Racer, what the hell happened ta ya?” Jack breathed out.
“I’se got a little hurt, Jackie,” Race slurred out.
“A little? Really, Race? C’mon, kid, who did this ta ya?”
“I don’t… I don’t really knows them. They jus’... they’se was real strong, Jackie.”
“Race, be honest, was you’se gamblin’ again?” Jack asked firmly.
Race’s silence was the only answered Jack needed. He groaned and wiped off some of the blood from Race’s face. “You’se remember what they’se did ‘xactly? Any knives on ‘em? Any… any guns?”
Race shook his head meekly. “N-no… they’se soaked me real bad and uh… pushed me into the east river…”
Jack took the boy in his arms and held him close, “You walked all this way? In this condition?”
“Had ta… else I woulda died…”
Standing back up, Jack hauled Racetrack into his arms before turning back to the Lodging House. He wasn’t really sure what would happen when they got there- he wasn’t too sure Race would be alive then. Morbid, yeah, but the kid really wasn’t doing too well.
Jack kept a firm grip on Race as he tried to quicken his steps. He found himself whispering anything remotely comforting into the boys ears, trying to keep him awake.
He couldn’t allow himself a minute to breathe until, finally, he saw the wide, welcoming doors of the Lodging House. He could feel Race’s chest rising and falling against his own.
For the first time that night, Jack smiled.