Chapter 1: Morris, Oscar and Little Jack Kelly
Chapter Text
Jack raced along the street, catching up with and then following his friends.
“You better get out of here, Jack. They’ll put you on the train.” Fourteen year old Morris warned little Jack Kelly.
Morris held tightly to Oscar’s hand, keeping his younger brother close by his side. In his other hand he held on tightly to a torn piece of paper.
Jack jumped around them, trying to block their way.
“They won’t put me on the train! I ain’t an orphan. I got a Dad.” Jack said loudly and if Morris didn’t know the kid he would have punched him for boasting.
“Hey! We got a dad.” Oscar piped up and Morris shot him a warning look to keep his voice down but no one was listening to three boys walking towards the Children’s Rescue Mission.
“Yeah, we got a dad, Oscar. But he don't take care of us. Out West we’ll get a real family.” Morris explained.
“A family that don’t hit? A family with a mom?” Oscar whispered hopefully, repeating what his brother had already told him earlier.
“That’s right. They're waiting for us.” Morris nodded, not wanting to look at the bruises that shone on his little brother's face and around his neck.
“Why don’t you just stay with me and Michael and dad some more?” Jack asked desperately; Jack was only eight years old and the two bigger boys looked out for him and his little brother, Michael, when they were selling papers.
“We can’t keep sleeping on the floor of yours and your dads room.”
“Sure you can! Pa don’t mind.”
Their daddies worked and drank together.
Mr Kelly was kind but he was poor and often he was ill these days. He had his own sons to look out for and Morris didn’t want to keep imposing.
Mr Kelly never hurt Jack or Michael, and the old man certainly told some great stories and tried to look after them all as best he could, that was true. But he was a tired and sick man, worn down by work and by life. It seemed like all the light inside of him had been slowly fading ever since Jack’s mama had died four years back.
Mrs Kelly had been like a real life angel and Morris missed her. He found it unfair that as her real sons, Jack and Michael had claim to her memory.
Because Morris and Oscar had loved her too and they were both old enough to remember her properly.
Morris couldn’t talk about any of that because it made him upset and that made his father angry.
Morris and Oscar's own Mama had died when Oscar was very little; After Oscar was born, she got ill and never really got better and their father had always blamed them for it, especially Oscar, even though he was only a baby when it happened. The fourteen year old shivered, thinking of the bruises, black and blue that Oscar never seemed to be without and he felt the ache of his own bruises and the mostly healed scars on his back.
Only Mr and Mrs Kelly ever seemed to show the Delancey Boys the true warmth and kindness of a family: their little boy, Jack was their world...but Mrs Kelly let Morris and Oscar be a part of it. The way she treated them? It was like she was their born Mama: She fed them and looked after them and loved them like they were her own. Before Michael had been born, before they knew he was going to be called Michael, Mrs Kelly had been so happy and excited to meet the new baby. All of them had.
It didn’t seem right that she had died giving birth to a baby she would have loved so much.
But it hadn’t been right that their own mother had died either.
Morris thought about it all bitterly.
There were so few good people around: Jack, Michael, Mr Kelly...sort of, and Miss Medda; who looked out for all the Newspaper boys and girls and would give them candy and try to sort out clothes for them.
Their mothers brother looked out for them, some: But he had no patience or use for little kids. Especially little kids that looked so much like the sister he lost. Wiesel worked with the newspaper distribution and so would always give his nephews some papes for nothing, so that they could make a little money, but that was all he could do.
If Mrs Kelly was still around, then maybe Morris and Oscar could stay. But the way things were, Morris wanted out.
He needed to get himself and Oscar far away.
Chapter Text
Oscar was looking up at the sky, the sky that was never clear in New York. He let his brother lead him along without looking where he was going, his only job right now was carrying the little bundle of rags: everything the two boys owned in the world.
“What about me and Michael? Don’t you care!” Jack Kelly demanded as they joined a crowd of children lined up outside the Children’s Rescue Mission. All of them promised free of charge a place on one of the trains heading West - Where they would find a family and a better life.
“Get lost, Kelly.” Morris snapped.
The little boy looked genuinely hurt for a moment but finally stopped jumping around.
Oscar was looking at them both now and humming to himself, seemingly unaware of the conversation the other two boys were having. When Morris looked at him, Oscar smiled. Jack gave a small smile too and Oscar nodded.
Sure Morris cared about Jack, but he cared about Oscar more.
When Jack’s dad was drunk, he told stories and looked at the stars. He told Jack and Michael that he loved them.
When Morris and Oscar’s father was drunk - and that was almost always - he hit them.
Morris was tired of it and he couldn’t keep running away in the middle of the night carrying Oscar on his back, sleeping on the streets or the floor of the room that Mr Kelly rented.
He wanted a home, a decent meal, his own bed and he wanted to get Oscar away from their father before something really bad happened.
Morris was fourteen now - one of the thousands, millions of ‘vagrant, idle and vicious children’ that lived on the streets of New York and he was old enough now that if he was caught stealing again - even just stealing food - he could hang for it. Or be sent to the refuge, that he knew was basically a death sentence tied up in a pretense of kindness and reform. He couldn't risk that and he couldn’t abandon Oscar to a fate like that.
Morris knew his job on earth was to look after his kid brother. So when he had seen an article about the trains - he knew it was perfect. A miracle.
“Will you ever come back?” Little Jack asked Morris, defeated.
Oscar was looking at the sky once again. Bored and not really paying attention. At least he wasn't crying because of the pain in his head from where he'd been hit.
“Sure.” Morris shrugged “Maybe one day.”
“Or maybe I’ll see you when I move west with my daddy and Michael! We’re going to be cowboys, you know.” Jack said with a grin. Both of his baby front teeth had fallen out and his big teeth hadn't started growing through yet.
Morris nodded, though was filled with doubt: Mr Kelly had been telling stories about moving his family west for as long as he had known him.
Jack was still enough of a kid to believe those stories and baby Michael was just four years old and believed everything Jack told him - just like Oscar believed the stories Morris told him.
“Get going, Kelly.” Morris said, more gently this time as the door opened and the children waiting started to rush inside.
“Bye, then.” Jack mumbled, not wanting to step inside the Children’s Rescue Mission.
“Bye!” Oscar said, reaching out and hugging his friend.
Morris stood back, watching them. He didn’t join in the hug, but waited a moment then took his younger brothers hand again to lead him into the building.
“Look after your little brother.” Morris called after Jack as the kid skipped away.
“I will!” Jack said brightly, waving then heading in the direction of home.
Notes:
Please let me know what you think so far! I love reading comments and thoughts.
'Vagrant, idle and vicious children' is a true description written about the street children of New York in the 1800s.
The 'Orphan Trains', 'Baby trains' or 'Mercy Trains' were real - As the railroads were expanding, there were many programmes that sent orphaned and needy Children out West to waiting families. Though some adoptions were arranged beforehand, for most of the children they would arrive at a station and literally 'put up for adoption' - they would usually be lined up by height or age and a family would select them. If they remained unchosen they would be put back onto the train and go to the next town.
The children were supposed to be treated as a part of the family, given an education and checked up on until the age of 21- and though this was sometimes the case, often it wasn't.
Children fell through the cracks and records were purposefully destroyed or lost, Children were told to forget their past and often siblings were separated.
Chapter Text
“I ain’t a baby.” Oscar complained miserably as he looked at the new clothes given to him by the mission. Short pants; he preferred long trousers that kept him warm and that he could grow into.
“You is. You’re my baby brother.” Morris said as he brushed the eleven year olds hair with his hand. He was feeling a bit awkward in his own outfit but grateful that it was new. He couldn’t remember the last time he had clean clothes or a bath and he felt good - but the woman calling them all ‘poor dears’ made him feel uncomfortable. She seemed nice enough but she called every kid that she had handed a towel and bundle of new clothes to ‘Dear’ or ‘Poor thing’; not like she actually cared.
His Mama would have called him ‘Dear’ if she had lived, or ‘Darling’ Like Mrs Kelly called Jack, him and Morris and baby Michael before he was born.
Mrs Kelly had called them all her babies, only when she said it, it wasn’t out of pity and it wasn’t teasing or an insult.
“Shut it. Quit fussing, you say you’re not a baby? Quit acting like one then” Morris warned Oscar who looked like he was about to holler.
Morris did up the top button of Oscar’s shirt.
“There.” he announced with a smile. “You can hardly see them bruises.” he said, as he carefully covered Oscar’s hair - and most of the bruise on his head - with a new hat.
He didn’t put on his own hat, he put it in his pocket. He’d give it to Jack Kelly if he saw him again before they went on the train the next morning.
“You look real smart, Morris.” Oscar grinned as they found a place at one of the long tables where they would get some food.
Morris nodded, clutching the piece of paper tightly in his hand: It was the notice that he had torn out of the Newspaper.
“Wanted: Homes for Children” he read aloud again to his brother.
“They really gonna give us a home?” the eleven-year old asked.
“Yeah. Because We want one! Says it right here” Morris reassured him, vaguely tapping the words ‘wanted’.
“Why they give us new clothes? Does it really not cost us anything?”
“So we look good when we meet our new family.”
The fourteen year old waved the torn piece of paper again as if it were proof or their ticket, then playfully shook his brother.
“A family is waiting for us…they paid for our new clothes and our train ticket.” Morris reasoned. Why else would they be sent unless they were wanted?
He hugged his brother excitedly. They were going to get a good meal tonight and breakfast in the morning. Then they would be going on an adventure - one of the workers at the society promised - they would go on a train to a family waiting just for them.
As he made sure his brother and himself were covered with the blanket they had been given that night, after a meal of bread and some porridge. He tried to ignore his still rumbling stomach and the sounds of all the other children in the room and think of the family waiting for them.
Oscar was humming to himself again and he gently hushed his brother who started complaining about the bruises again.
Morris couldn't wait to get to their new family.
"Tonight will be the last night cold and hungry." he promised Oscar.
"Then we get a new family that don't hit and with a mom." Oscar mumbled sleepily.
"That's right."
A mother: a lady that was a mixture of his own mother - who’s picture stood in frame with broken glass in his Father’s room-, Miss Medda; who was funny and beautiful and sang better than anyone and Mrs Kelly; the woman he thought of when he thought of a Mom, all raced around in his childish thoughts.
His new father would let Morris work with him on the farm, doing whatever farm work was - He imagined riding horses and growing all kinds of food to eat. In the evenings they would drink beer, not until they were drunk but they would clink the glasses together happily like rich folk did on New Years Eve and they would have so much to eat that they would never go hungry, there would always be food leftover.
He and Oscar would go to school and Oscar would have marbles and toy soldiers and spinning tops that Morris would sometimes still play with, if he wanted to.
He fell asleep slumped up beside his little brother, dreaming of a future that he didn’t know would never be his.
Notes:
*Sings I Bet On Losing Dogs*
Chapter 4: We're gonna miss you
Chapter Text
Morris held onto Oscar's hand tightly, keeping him close beside him as they walked with the crowd of children that were being led to the train station.
“Where’s Jack?” Oscar asked, looking around the busy streets for the kid that they called ‘Cowboy’.
“He might not be here, we said goodbye yesterday, remember?” Morris said evenly, keeping calm but he really did hope they would see Jack one last time before they left, if only for Oscar’s sake. The younger Delancey brother didn’t seem to understand yet how far they were going and that Jack and Michael Kelly weren’t going with them. They would probably never see them again.
As they got near to the station, Morris had given up on seeing the Kelly brothers but outside the gates, two little boys were selling newspapers.
“There they are, Oscar. We can say goodbye now but we have to be quick.” Morris explained as they broke away from the group and rushed over to the smaller boys.
“Morris, Oscar!” Jack grinned for just a moment before the smile faded “You really goin’, then?”
“Yeah. We’re going out West” Oscar nodded.
“Good selling spot.” Morris complimented eight-year-old Jack “You be careful though, especially when you’ve got Michael with you.”
Jack nodded, seriously. Listening to the older boy's advice.
“...and you need to try and get Michael some shoes before winter.” Morris sighed, Michael’s feet were covered in socks at least and Jack mostly carried his little brother on his back so there wasn't much worry about him hurting himself but a bad foot could mean bad news for a Newsie.
“What do you think I’m sellin’ papes for?” Jack said defiantly, puffing out his chest “I’m saving to get him shoes but we got to eat….and our old man needs the money sometimes.”
Morris reckoned that whatever Mr Kelly ‘needed’ the money for was probably forgotten and spent on drinking. Though he didn’t say that to Jack, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
“Try and keep hold of whatever money you make,” he advised “or at least don’t give all of it to your Pa.”
Jack nodded again, a sad glimmer of understanding that was new to the eight year old who was just beginning to understand his position and keenly felt how unfair it all could be.
Oscar picked up Michael and hugged him.The little boy giggled and the laughter made Jack and Morris smile, the seriousness of their conversation forgotten.
“Oh. Here, this is for you.” Morris said, taking the new hat from his pocket and placing it on Jack’s head.
“There. You look like a real Newsie now!”
“I am a real Newsie.” Jack grinned, adjusting the hat on his head so that he could see. “We’re gonna miss you.” Morris smiled, reaching out and patting Jack on the shoulder.
Oscar put Michael down and hugged Jack.
“See you, Oscar.” Jack smiled, patting the older boy on the back and letting him lift him for a moment.
“Yeah. See you.” Oscar hummed, letting go of Jack and taking Morris’s hand once again.
“Bye.” Morris nodded as they walked through the gates of the train station.
"Goodbye!" Michael called out to them happily, waving a newspaper like a flag.
As Morris and Oscar looked back, one of their last sights of New York was Jack Kelly, holding up his little brother, Michael.
Chapter Text
Time passed and life in New York went on.
Jack would wear the hat that Morris gave him and let Michael borrow it whenever it was raining and they were out selling papes. It was a good hat. Jack said it belonged to a boy that went to be a cowboy and that one day they would go West, as soon as they had a few more dollars.
A year went by, two Years.
It wasn't long before Michael couldn't even remember the Delancey brothers. To Michael, the name Delancey meant only Old Mr Delancey, who would get drunk and fight with their father.
Friends came and went, some said goodbye and some didn't.
Their father never said goodbye.
“Miss Medda?” Seven year old Michael Kelly asked quietly, he was wrapped up in blankets beside his big brother on the couch in her room above the theatre where the two boys had been staying.
“Yes, baby?” Medda asked with a tired smile. Jack was already fast asleep, one arm protectively around Michael. The boys had been out selling papers all day - and Jack had been carrying his little brother around on his back since the little boy didn’t have any shoes.
“Is my father buried beside my mother?" Michael whispered, his eyes wide with fear and curiosity as he glanced over to her.
“....Sure he is.” Medda whispered quietly, walking over from her dressing table to sit on the couch with the boys. She carefully tucked Michael’s blanket around him.
Mr Kelly had been buried in a pauper's grave with no marker.
Though Michael didn’t need to know that, it was already hard enough on Jack; at least Michael could believe his parents were together some place beautiful with flowers.
“They’re together now, ain’t that a nice thought?” Medda said softly, stroking the little boys golden hair.
Michael sighed uncertainly as he snuggled up against her. “When will Pa be coming back?” the little boy asked tiredly. He was falling asleep.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Medda sighed and she sat with him until he was asleep before carefully leaving them on the couch and going to her own bed.
Jack and Michael stayed with Medda for over a month; they were good boys and they made her laugh, truthfully she loved them.
They reminded her of their mother; who had been her best friend; Especially Jack, the boy was a dreamer.
Michael had more his mothers looks and colouring, though Medda suspected that his bright blonde hair would likely darken as he grew older to match Jacks deep brown, wavy hair.
The boys were great singers and when they weren’t out selling papers, they were singing in or outside the theatre for tips that she let them keep. Though Jack, bless his heart, would always try to give her half. If she refused to take the money, she would find coins hidden in her shoes or on her dressing table and on one occasion thrown at her during a show where the ten year old had been hiding up on the balcony.
In time Jack saved up enough money to buy a good pair of shoes for his little brother and Michael danced around the stage and out on the street as he sold his papers.
Things were going well. The little room above the theatre was decorated with Jack's beautiful drawings. The boys would help decorate the sets too...and she never could bring herself to scold them for the little handprints they had left beside her mirror on her dressing room wall.
“Miss Medda?” Jack asked one night from his and Michaels shared bed on the couch.
“Jack, it’s late.” Medda told him with a smile, most nights when she was finished with a show the boys were asleep, and she would make sure they were tucked in before going to her own bed in a little alcove of the room, but Jack had been waiting up. She chuckled and sat beside him on the couch, giving him the hug that he held his arms out for.
“Tomorrow night, me and Michael are going to go stay at the Newsboys Lodging House.”
Medda gave him a squeeze, not wanting to let her boys to go.
“Jack, you know you can stay here.”
“I know it.” Jack smiled, yawning slightly and leaning against her. “But we’re getting to be big kids now.” the ten year old said earnestly. “Michael is near eight years old and I’m twelve now.”
“You’ve only just turned eleven.” Medda told him, raising her eyebrow and Jack gave her a little grin.
“The lodging house is so close to where we get our papes and the other boys are nice. Race says that it’s real fun staying there and Mr Kloppman who runs it is a fine gentleman.”
Medda laughed out loud then went quiet as she and Jack glanced over to make sure Michael hadn't woken up. Raetrack was a year or so younger than Jack and a mischievous but charming little boy that she often had to tell off for trying to sneak into shows and pickpocket the patrons. He had a good heart though and she was pleased Jack and Michael had made friends with him.
“I won’t stop you going Jack but I’ll miss you so.” Medda told him honestly.
“I’ll come back and visit all the time.” Jack promised.
“And you’ll bring Michael too?”
“Course I will. He’ll want to see you, Miss Medda.”
“And take candy from the shop and dance on my stage?”
“You know everything, Miss Medda.” Jack giggled.
"Goodnight." Jack called out into the dark once she had left to go to her own bed.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." Medda called back gently and Jack fell asleep.
Notes:
Please comment and let me know what you think! The story will follow Jack, Michael and Race for a while now - The Delancey brothers are out West and we will not see them again until they return.
Chapter 6: Jack and Michael Arrested!
Chapter Text
“Miss Medda! Miss Medda!” Eleven-year old Racetrack was screaming, banging on the doors of the theatre that had long been closed for the night.
Medda, in her small room above the theatre, was woken by the shouts of the boy and the subsequent shouts of anyone living close by trying to sleep - telling the boy to shut up.
She peered out of the window at the little boy that was desperately kicking and punching at the door, trying to gain entry to the theatre. She had never seen him like this, all his usual bravado had completely disappeared.
"Please let me in! Miss Medda!" Race called out.
“Race, what on earth?” she called down, wondering if this was some kind of prank but knowing deep down that it wasn’t. She was afraid of his answer.
“It’s Jack and Michael...They’ve been arrested!”
Race downed the glass of water that Medda handed him and held the empty glass out for another
"Got anything stronger?" he asked and it would have been funny if the entire situation wasn't terrifying. Racer was holding onto Jack's hat, hugging it against his chest.
The hat that had once belonged to another boy and now belonged to Jack.
The hat that Medda had carefully sewn the nickname 'Cowboy' inside of with red thread when Jack asked her to.
"Sorry, Race. Just tell me what happened and I can sort this." she said with a confidence that she didn't have.
"They're at the Policce station, Miss Medda." Race told her in a voice full of guilt. "Jacky told me to keep runnin'!" he cried.
Medda pulled him into a hug and told him he had done the right thing.
Then she simply pulled her coat over her nightdress, put on a pair of boots and marched to the Police Station.
Race tried to follow but she insisted he wait at the theatre - for fear that whatever trouble this was, if he showed himself at the station, he would be arrested too.
The little boy was left alone. Crying with exhaustion, almost asleep on the little couch that had been Jack and Michael’s bed before they moved into the Newsboys lodging house.
Medda stormed into the police station, making the young sergeant at the desk jump.
“My boys.” Medda demanded.
“I’m sorry?” The man asked with a frown, looking at the woman with wide eyes. “....Are you here to report a crime?”
“No. I’m here for Jack and Michael Kelly. Where are they?”
“...Two…young men are currently in our cells and awaiting trial.” The police officer hummed awkwardly, looking at his notes, though Medda suspected he had likely seen one of his colleagues dragging or carrying the children in.
“What are the charges?”
“...Stealing food and clothing. Caught red handed.”
“They are children!”
The man at the desk didn’t respond.
“Let me go to them.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss.” he said, his voice cracking as he looked away from her.
Medda reached out for his hand. The policeman was young, perhaps only eighteen or so. He had probably seen Medda Larkin performing in one of her shows. He had a few faint scars on his face; his own upbringing was probably not so different to many of the children arrested.
Medda took his hand in hers and he finally looked at her - she felt like she was looking at one of the many little Newspaper boys and girls that came to her for help. Perhaps he had once been a boy like Jack or Michael.
“Please. Let me see my boys.” she asked gently.
The young man nodded, looking around as if to make sure a superior officer would not scold him, he led her to the cells.
“They’re in a separate cell...for the little ones.” The young police officer explained quietly. “Don’t want them getting mixed up with…real criminals.” he said, fumbling over his words. “They’re the only two in tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t be allowed to let you see them at all…really I shouldn’t be..”
“Thank you so much.” was all Medda said and he became quiet.
Miss Medda followed him down a corridor and he opened a door and then unlocked another door that looked like an iron gate or a cage. She could see Jack and Michael shivering in a heap in the corner. Somehow they looked like baby birds as they reached out to her desperately.
“Five minutes, Miss.” The young police officer told her worriedly. “I’ll wait just outside.”
“Thank you, young man.” she said as calmly as she could before running to her boys.
Medda ran to them, throwing herself onto the cold stone floor and easily scooping them both into her arms.
“Miss Medda!” Michael sobbed, clinging to her. He was shaking from fear or cold or both.
“Miss Medda! I told Michael you’d come and get us.” Jack cried, holding onto her tightly. She could hear the slight smile in his words and it broke her heart.
This wasn't a rescue.
The three of them cried together and held each other for a minute before she pulled back to look at them both: Michael had the early signs of a black eye and the collar of his shirt was torn where he had obviously been grabbed by a police officer.
Jack's face was scraped up and bleeding badly. He was also holding his arm protectively around his chest. Medda suspected a broken rib.
“Boys, what happened? Why were you stealing! You know you can come to me if you need help!”
“We got some food and clothes for the boys in the refuge.” Jack breathed.
“...And blankets!” Michael shivered.
“We’ve done it before.” Jack continued “It’s not really stealin’ is it, Miss Medda?" he said with wide, truthful eyes "We never take too much from one place and them kids is starvin’ and freezin’ to death in there!”
“Shh, shhh.” Medda tried to sooth Jack, who had started crying.
"Miss Medda, they's dying in there. We need to help them. There's no crime in helping people, is there?!" he sobbed.
"No, my darling. No." Medda told him. "You're such a good boy, Jack. I'm so proud of you."
That only made him cry even more as he clung to her.
He seemed tiny in her arms. They both did.
Jack hadn’t yet had any growth spurts and his voice remained unchanged - he could still sing beautifully, reaching high notes with ease and confidence. He was still a little dreamer, but a hard worker too and an astute artist. He had the swagger of one twice his age and took perfect care of his baby brother, of Race and of a growing army of little Newsies. But he was only thirteen years old: Jack Kelly was still a little boy.
Michael ‘Baby brother’ had just turned nine and still looked like a little angel - His blonde curls contrasted with his tanned skin and flew around his head like a halo: the perfect image of a child. Changed and distorted by a black eye and a bleeding nose.
Medda took her handkerchief from her coat pocket and started wiping at the little ones face to try and clear his tears then she held it to his nose.
He winced but took hold of the handkerchief to try and stem the blood.
“I wanna go home.” Michael whimpered “Can we stay with you tonight, Miss Medda?”
There was a loud noise and both boys flinched in her arms. The young policeman was standing by the door.
“You have to go now.” He said quietly.
Michael immediately started screeching in panic and Jack put his arms protectively around his little brother.
“Boys, I will fix this.” Medda told them as she stood up and started to leave the little cell.
Jack stood up too, easily carrying Michael in his arms, though he had a pained look on his face and winced slightly as he started to move.
When the gate was closed behind Miss Medda and Jack and Michael were once again in a cage, Jack began to scream.
Michael screamed too.
Miss Medda was led away and in her head she could still hear the pleas of her little boys as she left the station and returned to the theatre.
Chapter Text
The refuge was an intimidating building.
Jack and Michael were carried in by officers: Michael was carried by the young officer that had allowed Medda to visit them the night they had been arrested- He had tried to be kind to them while they were at the police station and made sure that they were fed every day. He carefully placed the younger Kelly boy down, straightening the little boys torn collar as much as he could before nodding at the brothers then glancing over at the man behind the desk. He bowed his head to him looking almost fearful before quickly leaving.
The Refuge was not a place that he wanted to see or think about.
Jack was thrown down unceremoniously by the other police officer. He cried out in pain but composed himself quickly and went to stand beside his little brother once the officer had left.
“Jack?” Michael asked with concern.
“I’m okay.” Jack lied, his side aching. “We’re okay.” he said as he scrubbed his hand across Michael’s face to try and clean it, he was aware that they were both filthy. They’d been at the police station for days with no place to wash. He wiped at his own face and ruffled his hair, scraping through it with his hand in an attempt to make himself look smart.
Jack thought that a trial would mean a chance to explain that this was all a mistake, to say that he was sorry and that none of this was anything to do with Michael. He would be able to tell about the starving boys in the refuge and that he only took some food for them because they needed it. Then he and Michael could go home with Miss Medda, back to the Lodging house with Race and back to selling papers.
They weren't even given a chance to speak and no one was there to speak for them as they had no official next of kin.
The Kelly boys were Orphaned thieves. Street rats. The judge simply looked at them, sighed and sentenced them to a stay at the refuge.
As they were taken away, Jack had begged for Michael to be let go, for Miss Medda to be sent for, for Mr Kloppman at the Boarding house who could tell them all that they were good boys that worked hard.
No one listened.
Both boys were staring with wide eyes at the man behind the desk who was observing them with a bored look.
Tears rolled down Michael's cheeks and he gave an occasional breathless whimper.
“Jack and Michael Kelly?” The man asked.
“...Yes sir.” Jack eventually responded, keeping a comforting hand on Michael’s shoulder.
“Ages?”
“...Michael is nine and I’m nearly fourteen.” Jack answered, deciding that it was best to tell the truth. Often when they sold papes, they would pretend to be younger to sell more.
“Good.” The man said, seeming to approve of Jacks truth-telling as checked over a letter that had been sent along about the boys, he then wrote something down in a large book, waiting a few moments for the ink to dry before slamming it shut, making both boys jump.
The man chuckled unkindly and stood up for no reason other than to intimidate; He was a tall man with a mean look in his eye and his lips were curled in a smile that made Jack’s skin crawl. Jack stared up at him, determined to explain himself.
“Nine and...almost fourteen….” the man commented, “Enough time to mold you into fine young men, if you behave yourselves.”
"My brother didn't do nothing! This is a mistake. Please let him go away from here. I'll admit, I took some food and clothes....Some blankets too. But I only did it to help kids that needed it.... Honest!"
"An honest thief?" The man asked with a raised eyebrow. Moving around the desk to stand in front of Jack.
"Yes sir." Jack nodded, looking up at him, refusing to look away.
The man seemed amused that Jack would dare answer him. He smiled. Then he slapped Jack across the face.
"How dare you!" The man scowled.
There was a loud knock at the door and Jack and Michael jumped in panic, hugging each other for some kind of comfort as more grown ups walked into the room. They worked for the man standing in front of the desk who was still chuckling to himself.
Jack and Michael had no idea what was going on. No one had told them what was going on.
Scrubbed clean, hair chopped off. It was the Refuge’s way.
Some of their clothes were taken from them- for washing - Despite their protests.
They were handed thin, scratchy pieces of clothing that didn’t fit properly. No boy had belongings here, they were told.
Jack hoped that Race still had his cowboy cap and was keeping it safe for him. They were allowed to keep their socks boots.
Still they shivered as hand in hand they were led to a dormitory and pushed inside.
Jack tried to ruffle his brothers hair to comfort him but Michael's golden curls were all shorn and Jack's own dark waves of hair were gone too. His first thought was that they would be laughed at and he'd fight anyone that laughed at him but looking around, a lot of the other boys had their hair cut short and were wearing mismatched clothes.
"Least we still got our boots." Jack told Michael, hugging him close. The room was freezing.
"They's my tap dancing shoes." Michael told his brother, stomping his little foot on the floor.
"Yeah." Jack grinned, playfully pushing him. "You're a funny kid, Michael."
"I'm near ten." protested the boy who had his ninth birthday only three weeks ago.
"Funny kid." Jack teased in a whisper.
"Medda is gonna hire me to be in one of her shows." The kid insisted, playing along and pushing Jack back.
Jack winced in pain, clutching at his side and that made Michael start to cry.
"You aren't okay! You're hurt!" The little boy sobbed; tired, upset and angry.
The room was full of bunk beds - like the lodging house- But with none of the familiar warmth and laughter:
No drawings or newspaper articles hanging up on the walls and around the bunks. No toys,no books or colourful handkerchiefs and clothes hanging up.
The boys too, seemed pale and frightened, like ghosts. Some of them had bruises and black eyes, or bandages covering other injuries. Some of them looked in really bad shape - just lying there. Others were talking amongst themselves in whispers and not paying much attention to Jack and Michael; Jack felt this was some sort of respect- because Michael was crying loudly now. Jack didn’t know how to make him stop. He felt like crying himself.
A few of the boys rocked back and forth where they sat, whispering or quietly singing to themselves.
“Shh.” Jack said softly, patting Michael’s back and lifting him up to carry him despite the pains in his own body. He started looking around for a place for them.
They found a bunk and huddled up together, wrapped up in a blanket made of burlap sack that a boy wearing thick round glasses handed to them.
“You’re, Cowboy aren’t you?” the boy whispered hopefully “Jack…?” he smiled, squinting at him in the dark. This boys hair was growing back unevenly in tight curls from where it had been cropped short.
“...Specs?” Jack smiled tiredly, exhausted from all that had happened in the day. But happy to see a familiar face.
Specs nodded, then his smile faded slightly. “You got caught then?”
Michael let out another little sob and buried his face against Jack’s chest.
Jack shrugged. Specs offered another kind smile.
The last time Jack had taken food to the refuge, Specs had been a worried but thankful face at the window, warning Jack not to get caught.
They sat quietly until Michael was almost asleep in his big brother's arms.
Specs patted Jack on the back and moved closer to the brothers so that they were all huddled together.
“How long did you two get?”
“Three months…”
“I got three months too… I’ve only got a week or so left now.”
“That’s good.” Jack said blankly.
“We should try and sleep.” Specs sighed, looking at Michael who was safely dreaming.
“Lucky they kept you together. Sometimes the little ones get put somewhere separate.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know.” Specs shrugged “We just have to do as we’re told here, Jack. Otherwise bad stuff happens.”
Jack nodded fearfully and hugged Michael, trying to sleep.
“Who is the man in the office? The one at the desk that writes in the big book.” Jack asked.
“That’s Snyder. The Spider.” Specs whispered back.
Jack thought as much, he had heard fearful rumours about ‘The Spider’ and been warned to stay away from him and the Refuge for as long as he could remember.
The room was so quiet and so loud at the same time.
The quiet, broken voices of little souls abandoned, calling out to no one for help, for respite that never arrived.
Jack looked at his sleeping brother. More than anything Jack was determined not to let anything bad happen to Michael.
Notes:
Please I would love some comments!
I thought meeting Specs at the refuge would be good - a familiar face but also. In the musical Specs is the one to go get the note from Crutchie so I thought it would be interesting if this is where Specs and Jack first cross paths.
Also the young police officer, was in the refuge as a kid or at least I wanted to hint at this. He is still scared of Snyder.
Chapter 8: A Dream Called Santa Fe
Chapter Text
At the refuge Jack and Michael had to do military drills with all of the other boys. No matter the weather they would have to stand in line or march around a yard with high walls surrounding it for hours on end.
If they weren’t standing to attention or marching, they were in a different courtyard where they had work to do; breaking rocks or separating oakum; breaking up old ropes from ships and building sites and separating the fibres.
It was hard and tedious, painful work. If they stopped or it was decided that they weren’t working hard enough they would be beaten or put into solitary confinement in the cellars of The Refuge.
So Jack made sure that he worked hard and did as he was told and he made sure that Michael did too.
They stayed silent most of the time, only speaking properly with each other and the other boys in the evenings when they were in the dorm room. Night was the only time of day they could be themselves; in sleep they could all dream of better times and of the future away from the horrors of the refuge.
When Specs was released, Jack told their new friend to go and stay with Race at the Newsboys lodging house and sell Newspapers.
He also asked his Specs to send their love to Miss Medda Larkin.
On the second week at the refuge, tired of marching and working, Jack asked one of the overseeing adults if there was any school for them to attend. That earned him a slap across the face from the overseer, and a report to Snyder.
Snyder ordered that Jack and Michael would not get an evening meal.
The brothers did not receive breakfast or an evening meal the following day either.
Michael cried and clung to Jack that night. The little boy's hands were cut and aching from picking oakum and Jack was exhausted from breaking rocks in the yard. With almost two days without food both of them were shaking with hunger.
In the dining hall the next morning they were both given half a bowl of the watered down oatmeal: Jack had never tasted anything so good; he resolved to behave perfectly from then on.
As Jack marched and worked over the following weeks he could tell that the overseers were impressed with him and he felt a sense of pride in being strong and a good worker. It even earned him an extra piece of bread one morning; he secretly broke it up and gave the largest piece to Michael and the rest of the crumbs to the other boys sitting nearest to him.
Because Jack was a good worker he was beginning to be trusted by the overseers and given extra jobs to do; emptying the dustbins, cleaning the hallways in the evenings...
That’s when he began to sneak food from the kitchens. Almost every night before the dormitory door was locked, Jack would sweep the floors and find himself in the kitchens - he was clever; only taking small amounts that wouldn’t be missed and taking scraps from the dustbins. He was too hungry to be fussy. The overseers and Snyder threw away perfectly good food. It was almost like it was done intentionally to spite the boys, to just throw away anything they had left. So Jack would take it to share with the other boys.
Jack’s greatest joy was being able to feed Michael and the other kids, it wasn’t much but it made a difference.
No matter what Snyder said; there was no way that this was wrong.
Every morning when the children were forced to say prayers, Jack knew that God would forgive him for stealing food and disobeying people like Snyder.
One day when they stood in line for an inspection, Snyder was looking at them all. He stopped in front of Jack and congratulated him for his improved behaviour. Jack’s chest swelled with pride and he winked at Michael, who was holding back a giggle.
Jack felt like laughing in the Spider’s face.
As months passed, Michael danced in the dormitory at night. Even in the darkness of the refuge the little boy found moments to dance. He and Jack sang together in whispers.
Eating stolen crusts of bread with the other boys, they couldn’t help but feel hopeful.
In the middle of the night Jack was woken by the sound of screaming.
There was a commotion at the door and Jack realised with horror that it was Michael being dragged into the dorm by Snyder.
“I knew someone was stealing food from my kitchens!” Snyder announced loudly. All the boys were awake now. The man was holding he boy by his collar and Michael’s feet dangled above the ground. His little face looked painful from where he had obviously been hit and his nose was bleeding.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you.” Snyder warned, looking around.
“Let me down!” Michael demanded, kicking his feet.
“Did anyone help you?” Snyder asked, easily lifting the little boy even higher in the air as Michael screamed. The other boys were all standing to horrified attention.
“No!” Michael shouted.
“I know you’re lying.”
“Am not! Honest!” The little one shrieked
“An honest thief like your brother?” Snyder sneered, at last letting go of Michael, letting him fall to the ground.
Jack rushed over as his baby brother who was lying on the floor crying. He carefully helped him up and they stood together, Jack’s hand resting comfortingly on Michael’s shoulder.
“Steal from me again and I won’t be so kind.” Snyder sighed, looking at the brothers as though disappointed. “I’m afraid your stay at the refuge will be extended for another six months.”
“No!” Michael cried.
“Please sir! We’re supposed to be leaving in just two weeks.” Jack stepped forward, trying to speak calmly.
Snyder glared at Jack, surprised the older Kelly boy dared to speak up. The man looked disappointed.
“...Your stay will also be extended.” Snyder said coldly.
“Jack didn’t do nothing!” Michael shouted, stamping his foot.
“Your brother should have kept you in line.” Snider shouted, stepping forwards with his arm out as if to hit Michael.
Jack took the hit.
Eyes closed, Jack pushed Michael away, pushing him towards the bunk beds.
Snyder got an awful, almost gleeful look in his eye and he hit Jack again and again. When Jack fell to the floor, Snyder kicked him and left the room.
“Control your brother, Kelly.” he called out as the door slammed closed.
Jack lay on the floor clutching at his stomach and groaning in pain.
Michael rushed to his side, Jack put his arms around him, pulling him close.
“You okay? Did he hurt you?” Jack whimpered.
“No. I’m alright.” Michael insisted.
“Why? Why did you sneak out? Why did you try stealing food?” The older boy demanded, trying to wipe the blood from Michael’s face.
“You were hungry…you gave me your bread at dinner. I jus' wanted to get you some bread.” The little boy sobbed, his sentences could hardly be understood.
“You’re so stupid!” Jack gave him a shake.
“But you take food all the time! I was just trying to be like you!”
That only made Jack cry even more.
Carefully the brothers crawled to the bunk they shared. Jack began whispering a wild, made up story about going West. Escaping somewhere to freedom.
“Will we really go away from here?” Michael whimpered, his voice full of desperate hope.
Jack combed his hand through his little brother's uneven curls; they had grown back now and were as bright as ever.
“I promise you. We’re getting out of here.” Jack smiled.
“Where will we go?”
“...Santa Fe.” Jack hummed. He had seen a poster for a place called Santa Fe before. It looked pretty. “That’s where we’ll go! You and me together.”
“I love you Jack!” Michael grinned. One of his front teeth hadn’t grown in yet and his smile was sweet and lopsided. It made Jack smile to see it.
“You go to sleep and I’ll think up an ending for this story.”
“A happy ending?”
“Of course!” Jack promised “Now close your eyes.”
Michael finally fell asleep and only then Jack allowed himself to fall asleep too.
He dreamed of Santa Fe.
Chapter Text
Stealing food from the kitchens and dustbins was out of the question after Michael’s failed attempt at taking some food. Luckily, Jack had other plans:
Specs had found Race and Miss Medda and they started to make secret deliveries to the Refuge window in the early hours of the morning - Specs had shown Race where the correct window was and with the help of Medda they were able to get food to Jack who waited up for them.
They never delivered anything that would draw attention or be found out; Just bread and doughnuts, biscuits or cooked potatoes…all handed out and eaten by the boys before the morning bell.
The food was enough to tide them over and keep their hunger at bay through the increasing amount of work they were ordered to do.
The oatmeal at the Refuge was more watered down each day and Jack noticed that Snyder was smoking fancier cigars and wearing finer clothes. All the money to care for the children in the Refuge lined his pockets and it seemed almost everyone knew it.
As well as food, Race and Specs were able to deliver medicine if any of the kids needed it and another precious item ; clothes: Socks and underwear and hats. Nothing that could be noticed by Snyder or the guards- just small items that could be easily hidden underneath the shared clothes of the Refuge but the extra warmth was enough to stop the cold going through to their bones.
Jack’s socks were hidden by his old boots and with each step he took as they were forced to march around the courtyard, he was reminded that Medda was waiting for him and Michael. She loved them. Race was waiting to sell papes with them and so was Specs. Soon this nightmare would be over.
Jack couldn't help but smile - He’d always been a dreamer and even while awake he would dream of life outside the refuge.
Jack had a spirit infuriated Snyder, who was determined to break him.
For some reason, Snyder could sense that Jack Kelly was up to something.
The boy seemed to follow every rule: He was one of the Refuge’s finest workers and strongest boys. Almost a truly reformed child…But Snyder saw a glint in the boy's eyes, he saw how hopeful the boy was and the man resented it. Sometimes during inspection if he caught a smirk on the child's face he would hit him. Jack learned to keep his eyes down and not look at the man in charge of the refuge. But during their breaks from work, during mealtimes, and the limited amount of free time the boys had; The Kelly brothers would dance and sing. They laughed and raised the spirits of the other boys. Snyder couldn't understand it.
To Snyder, Jack was still a boy half wild; An animal and his little brother was no better. Taming them would be a crowning achievement.
The other boys were more inclined to listen to Jack than they were to Snyder.
There became some unspoken agreement now that Jack was taking the other boys' punishments - this somewhat improved the behavior of every other child in the refuge. The children stood in line for longer and marched and worked harder, if only for Jack Kelly’s sake.
Fourteen year old Jack was at times more bruise than boy. He was still small for his age but strong from all the work he did. His voice was changing now and he made it crack on purpose to make Michael giggle.
Michael wouldn’t turn ten years old until long after they were out of the refuge.
Jack couldn’t wait to celebrate that day.
Notes:
Soon there will be a visitor to the Refuge. Jack and Michael plan an escape....
Something terrible may happen.
PLEASE leave a comment!
I would love to know what people think.
Also, Jack is now the same age that Morris Delancey was in the first chapter.
In this chapter: Jack is 14, Michael is 9 (almost 10)
Race is 13(ish), Specs is 15
Morris Delancey just turned 20, Oscar Delancey is 16.
We will meet some more Newsies soon too!
Chapter 10: The Cowboy and the Kid Escape
Chapter Text
In the morning…In the morning, something was different.
Their breakfast oatmeal wasn’t watered down and there were raisins in it today. There were plates of freshly baked biscuits out on the tables and bowls full of apples and oranges.
All the boys stood in their places, heads bowed ready for the usual prayer but eyes on the food. Then they sat down to eat.
Waiting for Snyder’s nod: The Spider was smiling down at them all from the raised head table, that was on a stage at the front of the dining hall - Also at the head table sat a group of strangers. Probably do-gooders or something, Jack supposed.
Whatever they were doing there, Snyder was keen to impress them and however suspicious he felt, Jack quickly began to eat his breakfast once Snyder nodded and the boy felt a spark of mischief rising. He grinned over at Michael and scooped some of the raisins out of his own bowl of oatmeal to give extra to his brother.
“This is the best!” Michael whispered with excitement, stirring the oatmeal with his spoon and nodding in thanks to Jack.
All of the boys were whispering with excitement, shoving biscuits into their mouths and sharing orange slices and taking great bites of apple. Jack ate an apple and shoved an orange in his pocket to share with Michael later.
Jack glanced up at the head table, where Snyder was talking with a Man with glasses, a mustache and a smiling face. Jack vaguely recognised him, when he caught Snyder’s eye he quickly bowed his head and went back to eating.
Their stomach’s were full for the first time in a long time and all of the children were happy and full of energy. The quiet chatter slowly grew louder.
“Boys!” Snyder stood up and called out when they had all finished eating. There was silence once again and all of the boys stood up and lined up as usual.
Snyder was smiling like they had never seen before and they all felt nervous as he introduced the man visiting as “Theodore Roosevelt.”
“You’s running for Office?” Jack called out and Snyder glared at him.
“I’m police commissioner, son.” Roosevelt explained as he stepped forward and smiled, nodding at the boys as if expecting a round of applause.
There were a few mumbled and whispered “Hello’s” from some of the boys but none of them were sure how to act.
“I’m here to see the good work of the Refuge and to meet all of you.” He continued to speak.
“He wants ta show he cares about orphans.” Jack whispered to Michael who snorted with laughter and pulled a face at one of the newspaper men who stood close by Snyder and Roosevelt with a notebook and camera.
Snyder gave Jack another warning look and the Kelly boys looked to the floor, smirking.
All of the boys were ordered out to do their military drills as usual.
Marching felt easier on account of having a good breakfast. Jack still had a bruise on his face and was sure that Snyder would have hidden him away in isolation away from these visitors...but Jack was one of the best workers and strongest boys - He was a success story. So Snyder needed him to show off the good work of the Refuge.
They marched around the yard and did their exercises while Roosevelt and the men from the newspapers were shown around the Refuge - A tour likely to avoid things such as the cupboard-like cells the boys would be shut into for isolation during an illness or as a punishment, the filthy dormitories and worst of all; the cold, dark cellar; where boys that died were carried and covered with a sheet until they were taken away to be buried somewhere unknown.
Jack had only been in the cellar once and the memory still haunted him.
A little boy that they all called Scrap, not much more than a toddler, maybe four or five years old: he had already been near starving when he arrived at The Refuge. He seemed impossibly small…and he had a cough.
But he would play quietly and stumble along with the marches. Doing his best working in the yard. Always hungry, always busy, always keen to be picked up and held by Jack, Michael and the others. So desperate for any scrap of anything; food or love.
The little boy especially liked when Jack and Michael would sing; he would clap along and his laugh was still like a babies laugh and would ring out. But the cough got worse and when he was so ill that he couldn’t do his work, he was beaten by one of Snyder's men.
A few nights after that he fell asleep for the last time. Died in the night - he was there and then he was gone.
He still clutched a half eaten biscuit in his tiny hand that Jack had given to him. Probably saving it for when he woke up.
Jack had been the one to carry him down to the cold cellar.
Jack hummed a little song as he put the little boy down onto the table and covered him with a sheet like he was tucking him into bed. He knew Scrap liked the song because it had made him laugh the most when he could still laugh. Jack didn't make his crack on purpose this time though.
The cellar and what happened was why Jack always tried to stay awake as long as he could each night and kept himself close to Michael.
To keep out the cold and anything that might harm them. If he held onto Michael tight enough... Jack knew he could stop death himself, he would never carry his own brother's cold body down to a cellar, like he had to carry poor little Scrap.
And no one would ever truly know or understand these horrors. Only the boys that went through them. Everything would keep being hidden away and the boys that survived would grow into young men haunted by the past.
While the boys were working in the yard, some of the men from the newspaper walked around, taking a few photographs and soon Snyder and Roosevelt joined them.
Snyder was acting a lot nicer than usual; a cheap show but the men were falling for it and all the boys were too frightened to speak out.
When they were given time to break for lunch, Snyder pointed to Jack and Michael and ordered them to collect buckets of water for Roosevelt's horses and to clean the carriage before they joined everyone in the hall.
The other boys looked apologetic as the Kelly brothers walked defeatedly inside to gather supplies and then trudged back outside to go and do the task they had been set.
Upset with the extra work but with vague awareness that they may be rewarded for this extra job they carried buckets of water to the yard by the gate for the horses. Despite the sun shining, it was a cold day and cleaning the carriage with old rags hurt their hands.
Michael stood by the bucket of water that they had fetched for the two horses, watching as they drank in great big gulps.
“You think they got to eat good breakfasts today?” Michael hummed, stroking one of the horses ears with a smile. The cowboy dreams that Jack whispered to him at night clear in his mind. “What’s the horses names, Jack?”
“Their names?” Jack said absentmindedly as he continued cleaning the wheels, happy to let Michael try and find some sort of joy in this job. Jack looked through the window at the fancy interior of the carriage and gave a whistle of admiration and envy.
“Yeah. The horses. What are they called? ” Michael smiled "Are they palominos?" he took an apple he had been saving in his pocket, taking a small bite and then giving the rest to the brown horse he had been admiring.
Jack looked over, amazed at his little brother's kindness in sharing the food he had been secretly keeping.
“Don’t worry, I got an apple for you for later.” The little boy grinned at Jack.
“Give it to the other horse.” Jack smiled “I got us an orange for later.” he chuckled “I don’t think horses like oranges. And I don't think they is palominos."
“We should name them Apple and Orange.” Michael grinned.
“Good idea.” Jack nodded, going back to cleaning the carriage, Michael reluctantly left the horses side and went to help Jack.
Both of them were humming happily.
Once the carriage was clean, Jack and Michael rushed inside for their lunch and were upset to see that everything was being tidied away.
Snyder grinned from his place at the head table, amused at the disappointment in their faces.
The children were sent back outside for another inspection before they began their military drills and work again.
At the back of the rows of boys, Jack stood, shaking with rage: He and Michael had cleaned the carriage and seen to the horses. They did their job! Their hands ached with it and they didn't even get any lunch let alone a reward. They never got a decent meal and when they did... it was a lie. Suddenly Jack felt sick with rage. He glanced down at Michael, grabbed his hand and they left unnoticed.
In the courtyard the carriage stood waiting.
Jack was planning to do something like take the pin that connected the horses to the carriage or throw mud at it but seemed to change his mind suddenly.
“Come on.” Jack told his brother and he quickly climbed up onto the roof of the carriage, reaching out his hand to help Michael climb up, they both lay down out of sight. Michael was giggling, shaking with nervous excitement as he clung to Jack’s hand.
“Shhh.” Jack grinned. “We’s hoppin' a ride with Apple an’ Orange. We’re busting outta here, kid!”
Jack and Michael waited. They lay quietly on the roof of the carriage. Roosevelt got inside and soon he was riding away. The boys stayed quiet until they had moved past the iron gates.
They were out of the Refuge!
Jack couldn’t help it: he stood on the top of the carriage and began cheering. He wanted Snyder to see him. Michael stood too, the two of them cheering and hugging each other. Yelling and holding their arms out triumphantly as the cameras the newspaper men had flashed and the lines of boys that they could see over the wall of the refuge were broken as all the boys were running around chaotically screaming and cheering for the Cowboy and the Kid.
Roosevelt waved, probably thinking the children were all cheering for him.
Snyder was staring in disbelief in the middle of the chaos.
Jack and Michael hugged each other and as the carriage slowed when they got near the end of the street, they jumped down and ran away.
“We’re free!” Jack laughed, quickly leading Michael down an alley, knowing they had to keep running now and get back to Medda.
“We’re free!” Michael echoed, skipping along with Jack “We’re gonna be in the papes!” he cheered as he did a little spin and a dance as they ran along.
“I’ll teach you to read em’” Jack promised.
Michael continued dancing.
“Come on.” Jack smiled as they weaved their way through alleyways until they reached a road.
They were on the run now and would have to hide from Snyder;Jack still ached from all the beatings and both of them were so small and starving. Medda would hide them and look after them. Then maybe they could head West. Become real cowboys.
On the road, Jack hopped a wagon headed in the direction of Medda’s theatre and held his hand out for Michael.
Michael was laughing and grabbed for Jack’s hand. Jack pulled his hand back so his brother missed it and he pulled a face at the younger boy who laughed even more and called out his name.
"Jack!"
“Grab my hand!” Jack teased, properly grabbing Michaels hand this time and starting to pull him up as the carriage picked up speed.
“Thanks!” Michael smiled.
Suddenly, somehow the little boy lost his grip and let go of Jack’s hand.
As if in slow motion he fell back against the carriage wheel.
“JACK!” he screamed out as he was hooked by the spokes and quickly pulled around and crushed under the rolling wheel.
The carriage kept moving and Michael was on the ground. He didn’t jump up to chase after his brother.
“Michael!” Jack screamed, jumping from the back of the carriage and running to where his baby brother lay on the cobblestone.
Chapter 11: Brave Kid
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Michael wasn’t screaming or crying.
“Brave kid!” Jack told him, trying to fight back his own tears at the sight of his baby brother: his left leg had been caught under the wheel and was badly broken, the bone was cutting jaggedly through the skin and blood was pouring onto the pavement. Another small trickle of blood dribbled from Michael’s nose. Jack quickly wiped it with his sleeve. He looked at his brother with fearful confusion.
Michael was just staring at the sky with wide eyes, his mouth gasping as he seemed to try and catch his breath but he was still smiling, like he had been when they were on the carriage. Like they had been when Jack grabbed hold of his hand.
"You bit your tongue?" Jack commented, wiping Michael's mouth with his sleeve. "Hey, you're okay..." he said softly. It was scaring him that Michael wasn't saying anything or trying to move. “....Don’t look.” Jack ordered Michael as he stared at his brothers leg, he wanted to look away from the blood himself but he was already trying to lift Michael up to carry him home.
“I’ve got you.” Jack promised, unsure if Michael was listening - he easily scooped him up and cradled him, starting to stagger towards Medda’s theatre.
Michael made a strange gurgling noise and let out a weak cry.
“Miss Medda!” Jack was screaming. He kicked the door, making his way into the theatre, stumbling as he heaved Michael inside.
They both collapsed and Jack twisted his body so that Michael wouldn’t land on the ground. Jack cried out in pain as he fell backwards, his shoulder hitting the ground first, he whimpered and hugged his baby brother to his chest. Michael didn’t make a sound.
Medda rushed to the door of the theatre.
“Stop that! No fighting in my theatre!” She shouted, having heard all the noise. She expected to see Race or some of his little friends sneaking in to see a show or to visit her. She hadn’t recognised Jack’s voice but when she saw him and Michael lying in the dark corridor for a brief moment she smiled and held out her arms to go and hug them but then she saw Michael.
Jack was sobbing.
“Help, Miss Medda! Help us.” he cried.
“Jack.” Medda whispered in surprise, kneeling down and then holding her arms out to take Michael.
Jack trusted her completely and pushed the little boy into her arms then wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. He was already standing up and following Medda who rushed to her room.
She placed Michael on her bed in the little alcove. Jack climbed up beside him.
“...This bed is soft.” he whispered with an almost smile, he looked up at Medda who was standing by the bed in shock, staring down at Michael, she was holding his hand. Jack smiled again, Medda was so kind; Like a Mama.
“Oh. Miss Medda, you got blood on you.” Jack blinked, then he looked at Michaels leg, it looked even worse now. His leg was bleeding a lot.
“Jack…” Medda said softly, watching carefully as Jack took his brother's other hand.
“We hopped a carriage. He fell.” Jack explained, “We needs a doctor.”
“...Sweetheart.”
“I’m fine but Michael…He needs a doctor.” Jack told her again.
Medda put her hand on Michaels chest and then nodded. “Okay baby, I’m going to go get a doctor. For both of you. You keep looking after your brother.”
“I will."
The Doctor rushed straight to Michael’s side and was asking Jack questions he did his best to answer as one of his two assistants checked him over.
They were kind and Medda had called for them and told Jack he could trust them but Jack was frightened, wincing away at every touch.
He refused to let the doctors assistant lift up his shirt or look at anything other than his arm and the bruises on his face.
His arm was put in a sling and the assistant explained to Medda that there was nothing that could be done for bruises all over his body and that he suspected broken ribs, all would just need time to heal.
Michael’s leg was broken and had to be pulled back into place and tied to a splint then wrapped in bandages.
The only time he had woken in the last several hours was when the doctor was setting the bone.
The little boy had screamed then; he called out Jack’s name.
“Michael! Get off him! You’re hurting him!” Jack screamed, before being sick all over himself.
Throughout it all, Medda somehow managed to stay calm. She lifted Jack up and carried him away while the bandage was being wrapped around Michaels leg. She carried him easily, he was so light.
“They need to make his leg right. Understand?” She said softly as she took him to her dressing room where he was able to wash properly for one of the first times in months.
Careful of his arm she helped him dress into a vest. The vest was too big for him but it was comfortable and new with a pattern of colourful stripes. She had chosen it just for him.
“Plenty of room for you to grow into it and if you grow out of it you can hand it down to Michael.” She hummed.
He gave her a weak smile as she brushed his hair.
“I don’t look like myself.” Jack mumbled, looking in the mirror at his reflection and then ruffling the hair she had just brushed.
“You will.” Medda promised, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, why don’t you look through this box of clothes here, let’s find a nice nightshirt for your brother. I’ve been saving all of these for you two.” she smiled.
Jack nodded gratefully. Relieved they hadn’t been forgotten as he looked through the box of clothing. He picked out a nightshirt for Michael then took Medda’s hand as she led him back through to the bedroom.
Jack sat on the couch while Medda talked with the doctors and his assistants.
When the doctors left, Medda sat beside Jack and hugged him, then together they carefully dressed Michael in the new night shirt.
“When’s he gonna wake up?” Jack whispered. "Why won't he?"
"He's hurt badly, his head..."
"He hurt his leg. His head is fine, it ain't even bleeding." Jack frowned.
"He's got injuries inside his body." Medda tried to explain, closing her eyes and focusing on keeping her voice gentle and calm so she wouldn't worry the little boy lying beside his little brother.
"He only hurt his leg...and he had a little bleeding nose. That's nothing. At the refuge..." Jack's voice got quieter and he closed his eyes as Medda wiped his face carefully with a handkerchief. He smiled at the gentle touch "When's he gonna wake up?" he asked again in a whisper.
“...Soon, baby. Keep talking to him. He can hear you.” Medda said, gently stroking Michaels bright blonde curls that stuck out unevenly all around his head on the pillow like a halo.
“He can?” Jack asked, doubtful.
“Of course he can! He's got ears, 'aint he? His heart is still beating, he’s strong.” she told Jack as she tucked him into bed beside Michael.
Jack let out a little giggle. An echo of the boy he used to be.
“I’ll pay you back for the doctor, Miss Medda.” Jack whispered.
“Shh now, no need for that.”
“Then…take this.” Jack whispered, taking the orange that he had stolen that morning from his pocket and handing it to her.
"It was for me and Michael to have tonight...we...we wasn't exactly planning on breaking out." he frowned.
Medda held the orange as if it were a treasure and put it on the nightstand.
“We can all share it for breakfast.” she promised.
Jack began to cry.
“Cry all you need to, you’re safe here. You’re home.” Medda told him soothingly.
Jack nodded, gently hugging Michael.
"I don't want to go back to the refuge. We won't last in there, Miss Medda!"
"You're home. You're safe." Medda repeated.
Medda went to the couch, it would be her bed until her boys were well.
She looked at the boys shoes on the floor down by the bed. The mismatched laces. She remembered when Michael had insisted he was saving money for a pair of tap shoes. She felt sick as she thought of the sight of his leg. The little dancing boy. Still, he could recover. He would dance again and sing with his brother.
She hummed softly and Jack weakly joined in, singing just like he used to. His voice had changed, but still he sang. If Michael could hear them, Medda was sure that the song would bring him comfort.
When the song ended she didn’t say anything - just listened to Jack as he whispered tales of Cowboys.
Notes:
I couldn't do it...I couldn't let Michael die yet.
Please comment! Comments help me to write!
Jack saying he will look after his brother : The same thing he said to Morris before he left on the train with Oscar.
Also Medda taking Michaels pulse and Jack just thinking she is holding his hand :')
Also little Michael with a broken leg. I wonder if he might be like a certain kid we know from later in the Newsies story...Crutchie?
Chapter 12: The Next Morning
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack woke up early the next morning, he put his hand against Michaels chest and sighed with relief when he could feel his brothers heart beating.
“Michael! Wake up.” Jack whispered, shaking him a little.
“Let him sleep, sweetheart.” Medda said softly.
Jack jumped slightly and then got out of bed, standing beside it as though waiting to be told what to do.
Medda was already dressed and holding out Jack’s old cap and some new clothes for him. He took them gratefully and rushed away to wash and get changed, grinning slightly. He and Michael were home with Medda and she loved them. They were free from The Refuge!
When Jack returned to the room, Medda was sitting on the bed beside Michael, holding his hand again.
Jack stood in the doorway, not sure what to do. He was so used the routine of the Refuge. He waited for Medda to tell him what to do.
When she didn’t say anything he walked over to the bed and sat beside Michael.
“He still sleepin’?”
“He needs lots of rest.”
“Does his leg hurt him?” Jack asked worriedly, glancing at Michael’s leg. Wrapped up in bandages it didn't look so bad.
"Yes I expect so.” She told him truthfully "He’s injured on the inside." She tried to explain as she gently placed a hand on Michael's forhead "You can’t see the hurt like how you see his leg but it’s very serious, Jack. You need to understand that.”
“I understand.” Jack nodded solemnly with a slight frown. Then he glanced at the orange on the side table.
“...Breakfast.” Medda smiled, noticing that he was looking at it.
The boy took that as permission and grabbed the orange and started opening it, tearing at it with his hands. It smelled beautiful and he giggled, glancing to see if Michael would wake up properly. Michael was moving in a strange way; like he was trying to wake up but couldn't quite manage it.
"Don't be frightened, it's just Michael." Medda said softly.
Jack nodded and split the orange in half, holding half out to her. She shook her head, no.
“It’s yours and Michael’s, baby.”
Jack smiled at her kindness and took a big bite of orange, closing his eyes for a moment as he savoured the taste. It was so sweet.
“Hey, kid.” Jack whispered, leaning down to his brother's ear as he tried to gently wake him up. “We’s home. Here’s your breakfast!” he moved an orange segment under Michael’s nose and the little boy sniffed and smiled slightly in his sleep as if he was waking up slowly.
Jack grinned triumphantly and held the orange to Michael’s lips.
“Careful, now.” Medda said with a soft smile, stroking Michael’s hair then moving some pillows so that he was half sitting up, the pillows and the wall of the alcove supporting him. “He just needs a little time.”
Jack nodded, taking the handkerchief that Medda handed to him and carefully wiping Michael’s face then his own.
Medda went away to fetch bowls of oatmeal and spoons for the boys.
“Why don’t you mix some orange into it, that will make it nice and sweet.” Medda said, she was sitting on the bed with the boys, watching Jack with his bowl of oatmeal.
She wrapped a towel around Michael like a bib.
Jack watched with suspicion as he took his bowl and mixed in some of the remaining orange segments, then he put some into Michael's bowl and Medda mixed it all up and started to spoon it into the younger boys mouth.
“He ain’t a baby, you know.” Jack frowned, knowing Michael would say the same thing.
“I know that, darlin’” Medda said sympathetically as she held Michael’s head and carefully fed him some oatmeal. “He just needs some help right now…..Well done sweetheart!” she said with a smile as Michael actually weakly chewed for a moment and swallowed the food.
Jack looked down at his own bowl of food and felt slightly sick but ate quickly.
He knew not to ever turn down a meal.
“Jack?”
“Yes Miss Medda?”
“It’s going to be okay sweetheart.”
Jack nodded uncertainly.
“Now, you can stay here as long as you need. This bed is yours and Michaels.”
Jack smiled at that.
“Now, I think you should lay low here for a bit. Help me around the theatre, you can paint, help look after your brother. But after a week or so if you want to go sell papes with Race then you can do that. That might be good for you. Back to the lodging house?”
Jack’s eyes lit up. He had forgotten! Race and Specs! The other Newsies. He grinned and nodded enthusiastically. The idea of painting too, then he glanced at Michael.
Jack still felt a little bit sick but easily finished his breakfast, then Medda showed him how to feed Michael. Feeding him actually helped Jack to feel a better. Like he was helping. Even though he was sort of making a mess; neither Michael or Miss Medda seemed to mind.
“You’s keep resting, kid. I’ve got it all figured out.” Jack said confidently as he scraped the bowl and fed Michael the last spoonful of oatmeal.
Notes:
I think I'm making this worse dragging it out like this but I don't want Michael to die!
Please comment and let me know what you think! What you hope....
Chapter 13: Race sells the Headline
Chapter Text
Race couldn’t believe it when he saw the Headline:
BOYS ESCAPE REFUGE ON ROOSEVELT’S CARRIAGE
Even better was the picture above the fold of Jack and Michael Kelly!
Race and Specs and the other Newsies spoke excitedly all about it. Jack and Michael were back. Race half expected to see them at the Newspaper distribution window waiting to buy some papes.
“Gimme…100 papes!” Race said, slamming down his coins and grinning as he grabbed the papers.
"Buy extra, Fellas!" he instructed the other Newsboys "Our own Jack Kelly and Michael are famous!"
He sat down on the steps to have a proper read, laughing excitedly as the middle of the paper was also filled with a report on Teddy Roosevelt’s visit to the refuge along with some more pictures of some of the boys in the Refuge working in a yard; Race recognised little Michael right away from the light curls bobbing around his head and Jack standing beside him looking serious and protective.
Race whistled to himself in admiration. They’d made the papes and escaped the refuge! He quickly finished reading through the paper and set off selling. Shouting out the story for anyone to hear. No need to exaggerate the headline today.
When he had made his days' money back he started slowly heading in the direction of Medda’s theatre, selling a few more papers as he went. Deciding that he'd stop for some food on the way. He really hoped that Jack and Michael would be at Medda's and hadn't fled the city completely.
“Miss Medda! You’re not gonna believe the papes!” Race shouted as he let himself into the theatre through the stage door and ran to her dressing room.
When she didn’t answer him he rushed upstairs to her bedroom, he knocked and entered the room, holding a newspaper out.
“Jack and Michael made the front page..!” Race stopped in his tracks as he took in the scene in front of him: Jack, Michael and Miss Medda were all sitting together on Medda’s bed. Michael looked hurt and Jack didn't look in very good shape but there he was.
“Jackie?...Michael?” he smiled, dropping his newspaper bag to the ground.
“Race?!” Jack grinned, jumping up.
The two boys launched themselves at each other, each taking a few steps before meeting in a tight hug that neither of them dared to let go.
Occasionally seeing each other in the night through the Refuge window was not the same as this. They didn’t know if they were laughing or crying as the hug changed into a playful wrestling match and they collapsed onto the floor.
Miss Medda laughed at them, wrapping her arm around Michael’s shoulders in a way to make sure that he was joining in the fun.
The youngest boy was still sitting upright, leaning on pillows and still asleep.
“You’ve grown!” Jack told Race with a smile, chuckling as they both were sitting on the floor. Before Jack had been the taller between them but now Race was slightly taller.
“And you,” Race grinned, grabbing a newspaper out of his bag “Made the front page, pal!”
“Wow! Look at that!” Jack said, snatching the paper excitedly and admiring the picture.
“Michael! Look…You and Jack made the.. is he okay?”
Jack’s smile faded. “He got hurt.”
“At the refuge?”
“No. When we escaped. We hopped another carriage after this one" he pointed to the photo "I don't know what happened...and he fell…he…”
“You messed up your leg, bad!” Race said, standing up and going over to look at Michael.
“Hurt his head too.” Jack said solemnly. “See, he’s got a bruise.”
“That ain’t so bad.” Race hummed nervously, reaching out to gently ruffle the little boys hair but Medda stopped Race’s hand from touching Michael, she gave it a kind squeeze and Race dropped his hand, smiling at her, noticing how worried she looked.
"Poor kid." He mumbled as he picked up his newspaper bag. He held out the newspaper.
Miss Medda took it and smiled widely. Aware of the worry and sadness in the room.
“Boys this is fantastic. I’ll put this in a frame” she announced. “Racetrack, how many newspapers do you have left in your bag?”
“Four!” Race smiled after quickly counting. Miss Medda handed him a quarter and the young man grinned “There will probably be some more pictures in the evening pape.” then he looked at Jack, raising his eyebrows slightly, “You and Michael coming selling with me and Specs?”
“...I will. But Michael needs to rest.” Jack finally agreed.
Race nodded, patting Jack on the back.
“Can I go, Miss Medda?” Jack asked.
“Of course you can, but you be careful. Okay? Try and get home before dark.”
“I will.”
“Race, you and Specs can come and have some supper with us when you get back.”
“Thank you!”
“You boys better be off now.” She commented “I’ll stay here with Michael. My Bowery Beauties can help and we can still make sure that this evenings show goes well.”
“Can we…”
“No Race, no Kids at the theatre.” Medda laughed, already guessing that Race wanted to watch the show. “You boys just focus on selling your papers and I’ll make sure you have some nice food for when you get back. We’ve got plenty of soup left over from lunch.”
“Thank you Miss Medda.” Jack smiled excitedly, moving over to give her a hug.
He had been near starving during his stay at the refuge and the soup and bread they had for lunch was delicious. He had been allowed two bowls and then finished the half bowl that Michael couldn't finish after helping him to slowly eat some spoonfuls.
Jack hugged Michael, “You’ll look after him, won’t you?”
“Of course I will.” Medda told the boy softly, waving as the two boys left. “We’ll have a grand time, won’t we Michael?”
Medda continued to talk out loud to Michael even once Jack and Race had gone. She narrated what she was doing and spoke to him as normally as she could or sang his favourite songs.
She tidied the room, making sure that the couch was made into a comfortable bed for Jack though she expected he would want to sleep beside Michael, so really she was making the bed up for herself.
She hardly left Michael’s side and as the rest of the Theatre seemed to start to come to life, the Bowery Beauties visited her room to discuss the show, chat and say hello to Michael. Many of them concerned for the funny, cheeky, happy little dancing boy they knew.
“Now young man, how are we feeling? Can you try and open those eyes for me?” Medda asked a while later as she gently moved Michael to what she hoped would be a comfortable position after she had washed him and changed him into a clean nightshirt.
Michael opened his eyes and Medda was surprised, “That’s my boy!” she smiled.
Michael yawned and blinked again, “..Ma.” he mumbled.
“Almost. It’s Medda.” Medda hummed, doing her best to comfort the youngest Kelly, who looked confused and frightened.
“Jack!” Michael gasped. His first proper word since the accident.
“He’s out selling with Race and Specs. They’ll be home soon. Don’t you worry.”
Chapter 14: Dear Jack,
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Over the following weeks Michael improved very slowly - It was as if he was waking up from a dream.
Once the pain in his leg was under control and he stopped crying he was able to properly understand and remember where he was, Jack made him laugh. Some stupid joke or silly noise and Michael’s giggle filled the room and everything felt okay again.
Soon Michael was trying to talk.
He was frustrated and restless but the words came slowly. They were slurred and awkward but singing came easily; A part of him that nothing could take away.
In the evenings Jack and Michael would sing in the room together and Medda's heart swelled with love and pride.
When Michael first woke up, Jack had been nervous and felt guilty.
But he soon forgot those feelings as he cared for his baby brother the same as he always had.
Once Michael was sitting up and able to understand, Jack started going out each day to earn money selling papes.
Michael stayed with Miss Medda and Jack stayed at the Newsboys lodging house - it worked out cheaper...he explained that it was easier to get his papes staying there and he didn't even have to pay for a bed! He had a cosy spot on the rooftop, near the chimney so it was always warm. Medda hummed nervously and warned him to be careful and practically ordered him to come back and stay with her if the weather was bad or at least buy himself a bunk for the night.
Each morning Jack would buy his papes and make his way to the theatre where he would help Michael eat breakfast and get him dressed and have some time to play with him and read out some headlines before going back out to sell.
They had a routine and it was difficult but they were making it work.
“You’re keen to get back to selling papers and dancing,aren’t you, my darling?” Medda smiled- encouraging Michael to try and speak one morning.
Michael’s bed was the couch now but he was resting on Miss Medda’s bed - Jack had carried him there before going off to sell more papers.
“...Yeah.” the boy hummed, “...Extra!” he shouted suddenly, remembering what he and Jack used to holler in the streets.
“Good!” Medda laughed, walking over and kissing him on the cheek before leaving to go and see to what was happening on stage, knowing that Michael was able to call out for her if he needed.
The newspaper article detailing The Cowboy and the Kids escape from the refuge was framed and up on the wall. Michael stared at it, not sure if he was reading it or if he just remembered all the words.
He hoped that Jack would stay home tonight. Or at least that he would visit, maybe with Race and Specs.
Jack didn’t visit again that day.
Michael tried to hide his disappointment as he ate the sandwich that Medda was sharing with him. Then he took a spoonful of medicine that helped dull the pain in his leg and made him sleepy.
Medda held the little boy until he fell asleep, humming the lullabies she used to sing with Jack and Michael’s mother when they were young.
The next morning Michael was carefully eating his oatmeal, Medda sat next to him with a towel ready to wipe the boy’s face; Since the accident his movements were awkward and difficult so it took him a lot of effort to feed himself, though he was determined.
Jack was later than usual and that meant the headline was either really good or really bad.
Medda decided not to wait for him. She and Michael needed to eat breakfast then carry on with their day. She needed to work to pay for the mortgage, the theatre... the medical expenses.
Jack was giving all the money he could and Race and Specs would chip in whenever they could. It was a stressful time. Though they did it all gladly for Michael.
In a way Medda and Jack were grateful that the kid was innocent to all of this worry. Jack had always managed to let his little brother stay innocent. Though Medda worried it was at the expense of his own innocence. Jack was only just fourteen or there abouts.
Michael pouted and pushed Medda's hand away as she tried to wipe his face then he wiped his mouth himself with his sleeve.
Medda laughed out loud and ruffled his hair until the little boy giggled.
“Your brother will be here soon.” she reassured him.
“...For breakfast?” Michael asked slowly, serious once again.
Medda smiled, encouraged by his words. Everyday they were seeing small improvements. It was all worth it.
“I don’t think so sweetheart, he’ll be out selling with Race and Specs this morning. I expect he’ll be home for dinner though.”
“That’s…ages away!” Michael complained, glancing over at the dime store Cowboy novel that Jack had been reading out loud to him every night before he went to the Newsies lodging house to stay with all their friends. “Read to me?” the little boy asked hopefully.
Medda smiled and handed him the book once she had wiped his hands clean of breakfast.
“I have to work, little one but try and read some yourself. I know you can do it!”
Michael pulled a face.
“I can get you some paper and a pencil to do some drawing.” Medda offered.
“...I’m not good at drawing like Jack is.” he said mournfully with a yawn. He wiggled around on the couch and groaned at the pain in his leg.
Medda tried not to make a big deal about how well Michael was talking as she bustled around the room, though his words were sad and that hurt her heart. She couldn't offer him any medicine to help the pain in his leg until night time.
She placed some paper and a pencil on the couch beside Michael, kissed him on the cheek and then left to go and work.
“...Bye Mama!” the boy called out cheerfully to her as she left. He had taken to calling her Mama now.
Michael hugged the cowboy book to his chest and flicked through it, imagining the pictures that Jack painted with the words and the drawings that he would probably do if Michael asked him to.
He didn’t want to read to the end of the story himself, he wanted him and Jack to read it together with Mama listening nearby.
Michael’s day was spent resting and drawing and practicing some writing.
“I’ll write Jack a letter!” he thought to himself and he hummed as he clumsily wrote out the words in his heart.
Medda smiled when she would check in - she checked in often to make sure he was alright and see if he needed help with anything.
The bowery beauties and other workers at the theatre also visited - The boy was just as popular as he had been when he was tap dancing on the stage and singing song with Jack for tips.
So absorbed in his task though, Michael hardly noticed when anyone checked in. Though recently everything was so busy at the theatre and he was doing so well that he didn’t need people checking in as much.
Eventually he finished his letter and looked proudly at his work:
DEER JACK,
WE WILL BE COW BOYS IN SANTA FE ToGEHER
LOVE FROM YOUR BRUTHER
M-
He had finished the letter with a drawing of him and Jack as cowboys. There were trees and mountains and palomino horses. There was Medda and Race and Specs...He would have to explain the picture properly to Jack, he knew that. But he knew Jack would understand it and see it like how they imagined. He would paint him a real picture.
The little boy yawned and stretched out, wriggling and wincing again at the ache in his leg. He thought about calling out for Medda but then with a defiant little giggle Michael stood up to try and walk the few steps over to the little window and look out onto the street below.
Notes:
I'm scared for the next chapter....
Things will start happening quickly now.
A little brother will be lost.
Maybe another will be found.
Poor Jack is going to keep having his heart broken.
Chapter 15: Hope
Chapter Text
“That was a foolish thing to do.” Medda told Michael with a frown as she carefully tucked him onto her bed, covering him in a blanket and gently tucking him in as if the blanket could hold him in place. She took a breath and smiled, not letting her worry show through as she thought of sending for the doctor or going out to try and find Jack.
“I wanted to look forJack!” Michael explained tearfully. His voice slurred and distant as it took him some time to find his words.
Medda untucked the blanket a little, freeing the little boy's arms; he reached out to her and she didn’t hesitate to hug him.
“You gave me a real scare. You need to rest. Do you understand?” She explained. Needing him to understand the seriousness of the situation.
Michael wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“...Sorry!” he told her and she kissed him on the cheek then moved so that she was lying beside him, lifting the little boy up so that she could hold him. Tears rolled down the child's face.
“You’re okay, baby.” Medda hummed. Closing her eyes and trying to will things to be okay.
The fall was only the start of it:
When Medda had returned to her room she had found Michael seizing on the floor.
This had been something they had quietly got used to since he had woken up from the dreadful accident but the fits were becoming more frequent and it was starting to seem to take longer for him to recover after each one.
Medda was almost relieved that Jack didn’t show up for dinner that night.
Jack didn’t show up for dinner for the next four nights much to Medda's relief as Michael slowly recoverd. Medda hoped Jack was having fun with his friends and in the mornings he would quickly pass by the theatre to deliver a pape and wave up to Michael who was still resting.
Jack not being around for dinner also meant that Michael could have some more food - The little boy had still not gained back any of the weight he had lost during the months at the refuge. So two bowls of soup rather than one would do him good.
Though it was a shame it upset the little fellow so much when his brother wasn’t there.
“What you think they’s doing, mama?” Michael asked one evening, finally seeming himself again. He opened his mouth for a spoonful of soup. When Race or Specs weren’t there the little boy allowed Medda or Jack to help him.
The little boy had been so tired lately. Even though he was sleeping more and more.
“I expect Jack and the boys are having dinner at the Newsboys lodge or maybe if the headline was good they’ll be treating themselves and getting something from the deli.”
Michaels eyes lit up. Whenever Jack went somewhere like the deli, he’d always try and buy a little something to bring back for Michael; some candy or a pastry or sometimes he would even wrap up an entire sandwich!
“You think he’ll be back before bedtime?” Michael asked hopefully.
“Eat your soup.” Medda told him gently.
The next morning, Michael was woken up by Jack who crawled beside him with a smile. “Mornin’ time to wake up.”
“Big brother!” Michael cried, reaching out his arms and hugging him.
“Hey kid.” Jack smiled. Medda was standing beside the bed and so were Race and Specs.
Michael blinked at them all as he sat up.
“Got a surprise for you.” Jack told him.
Michael nodded, and held out his hand expecting candy or a piece of fruit.
“...So.” Jack hummed. “How do you feel about coming sellin’ with us?”
“Yes!” the little boy cheered, throwing the covers off and trying to move.
“Woah, slow down shortstop!” Race laughed.
“Yeah, shhh.” Jack tried to calm the little boy with a chuckle. “Not just yet. But soon.”
“Oh.” Michael sighed.
“But we’ve got you something that will help.” Specs smiled. That caught the little one’s interest.
“It’s an early birthday present!” Race grinned.
“Look here.” Jack nodded, and then from behind his back, Specs revealed a crutch.
“That for me?” Michael asked curiously, taking the crutch and looking at it. Turning it around in his hands with a confused expression. In his young mind he still thought that somehow his leg would heal completely and things would go back to how they had been before.
“You bet it is.” Jack said proudly. “We’s been saving up and everythin’ it’s special made just for you.”
Medda wrapped her arms around Race and Specs proudly. Race pulled his hat down over his head embarrassed by the praise.
“Thanks” Michael said earnestly.
“You’re welcome.” Jack smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “You gotta practice using your crutch but not on your own, okay?”
“Okay” Michael agreed, smiling.
Medda kissed Jack on the cheek and them took him aside to talk to him about Michaels condition. Though the boys all seemed determined to sell papers together and perhaps having something to look forward to would help the little boy recover.
All they had was hope.
Chapter 16: Lullaby
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was late in the evening and Jack had been spending the last nights at Medda’s theatre - The rain was the cause he gave for his change of address but as Medda sat on the couch mending some of the boys clothes by lamplight, she glanced with a smile over at the two brothers.
They were both had colds but it was nothing serious and they had been playing together beautifully all evening.
“Come here, Micha.” Jack said gently, he was kneeling on the floor and holding out his arms for Michael who was taking some wobbly steps with his crutch then letting himself fall into his big brother’s waiting arms with a laugh.
“Good job!” Jack said proudly, hugging Michael to him and lifting him up in celebration, the same way he had done when Michael was tiny.
Michael still was tiny.
They were wearing matching white nightshirts that Medda had got for them; larger sizes so that they could grow into them. They looked like little ghosts.
Michael’s bright blonde curls bounced around as Jack ruffled his hair.
Jack’s own dark wavy hair was mostly covered by an old cowboy hat Medda had found for him in the theatre costume storage.
Medda put her sewing to the side and then went to start plumping up the pillows on the bed in the little alcove that was now truly Michael’s space -Jack and Michael’s drawings decorated the walls.
Medda slept on the couch, when she did sleep. Though she spent many restless nights watching over Michael who though giggly and bright and cheeky as ever was still enduring fainting fits and struggling a great deal - the episodes occurred almost daily and each one seemed to leave him more exhausted than ever and with every fit it would take longer for the little boy to seem to come back to them.
Jack was humming, trying to encourage his younger brother who couldn’t seem to remember the words even to his favourite songs.
“Come on Michael! You say you wanna be a singer for Medda’s show? You gotta know the words!” Jack sighed gently - he was still hugging his baby brother close and though he was smiling, Medda could tell that the same worries that plagued her mind were plaguing Jack Kelly's.
“...Dancer!” Michael corrected.
“What?” Jack chuckled.
“Dance.” Michael said simply with a pout.
“....Alright.” Jack smiled, kissing his brother on the cheek. “Sure you can be a dancer, Miccha.”
“Isn’t it about time for bed?” Medda told them softly, almost sorry to cut into the fun they had been having but wanting to steer the boys away from anything that might upset them.
“No!” The littlest brother shook his head, starting to laugh loudly as Jack tickled him.
“You do as Miss Medda says!” Jack laughed, punctuating each word with a pretend punch, enjoying hearing Michael’s roars of laughter.
“Boys.” Medda hummed, though she smiled. It was good to see them both so happy.
The weather had been awful for the last week and the rain was so relentless that almost every Newsie had been struck down with a cold and those that hadn't soon would soon be.
Jack and Michael had sniffles as she finally tucked them into the bed and kissed them both goodnight.
“You just call out for me if you need anything, okay?” She told them both, looking to Jack.
“You try and sleep some, Miss Medda. I got him.” Jack promised with a sad smile as he wrapped an arm around Michael who was looking around wide-eyed at Jack's drawings stuck up on the wall.
“You’re a good boy, Jack.” Medda said softly, carefully taking the cowboy hat from his head and putting it to the side.
“Night Night…Medda.” Jack said softly, it was almost as if he was saying ‘Mama’.
Michael sneezed.
“Charming.” Medda laughed, grabbing a handkerchief and wiping Michael’s nose.
“Ma.” Michael yawned by way of thanks.
“See you boys in the morning.”
They boys fell asleep, hearing a gentle lullaby sung by the closest they had to a mother.
Notes:
Finally an update! This is just a small moment of calm before the next chapter....I fear the worst will happen. Please let me know what you think! Thank you for your patience and for reading.
Chapter 17: Grand Little Soul
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack and Michael were both very ill, even though the rain had stopped.
So many children and adults fell ill and so often; it was just another part of how they all existed: day by day as they lived and worked in New York.
The brothers slept as comfortably as possible in their bed and Medda did her best to look after them.
They were warm and cared for.
Within a week or so, Jack was able to sit up in bed and was his usual self, he only needed to rest a little more and build up some strength before he could go out selling newspapers again.
Race and Specs had been advised to stay away, though most days one of them would leave a newspaper or something by the theatre stage door for Medda to take to their young friends.
As Jack recovered, he and Medda worried: Michael was not improving.
He was getting worse - his cough became worse and the boy seemed to hardly breathe sometimes.
Jack read to him. Medda sang for him. But not often could they get the little boy to wake and when he was awake, they did their best to make him comfortable. The little one smiled, seemingly happy and he would cling to them weakly, sometimes babbling like the tiny baby Jack remembered he once was. Before Jack knew how much of a struggle life could be. Before the refuge, before the gnawing hunger that held them both in a death grip and the aches in their bodies, before; when they wanted to grow up to be cowboys, singers, dancers, with a home and horses and no need for selling newspapers or stealing for anything other than the fun of it.
Jack whispered promises to Michael. He was going to take him away - to Santa Fe, where Michael could sing and dance all he wanted and his leg would be all better…
Michael would just smile sweetly and Jack convinced himself that his kid brother understood him.
“....Jack.” Michael hummed one morning, eyes wide open he blinked at his brother.
Medda looked over from where she was sitting at the side of the bed looking through yesterday's paper.
“Hiya Miccha!” Jack said softly, excitedly. He knew his brother recognised him, had been listening. He kissed Michael on the cheek and gently combed his fingers through Michael's hair.
"Jack." Michael breathed again tiredly, but looking to his brother with a knowing look. Pleased with himself as Jack encouraged him.
"You're such a good boy, Miccha! Look at you gettin' all better." Jack said proudly, quietly.
If he believed it enough he knew that Michael would too.
A moment later, Michael was convulsing: having one of his fits.
Jack yelped out in surprise, even though he was used to this now it still frightened him and he called out to Medda.
Medda was already at the boys side and carefully trying to move Michael so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. Still the tiny, weak body thrashed around obliviously.
“Jack.” Medda said firmly, capturing the attention of the young man, still a boy.
“Help him Medda!” Jack begged, his voice still weak from his own illness.
“This is lasting longer than the usual ones.” Medda tried to explain as she glanced over at the clock on the side. “Jack, I need to go and fetch the doctor.”
“I’ve got Michael.” Jack whispered bravely, holding loosely onto Michael who was staring into the distance and shaking uncontrollably.
Medda ran faster than she ever had in her life, relieved when she ran into Race, she demanded he go fetch a doctor.
Race took off at great speed and Medda turned back to the theatre.
She was afraid to step back into the room but she did so without hesitation.
“He stopped, Miss Medda!” Jack said, relieved when she walked over to her boys.
“Thank goodness.” the lady smiled, going over and looking at Michael who was breathing shallowly and smiling up at Jack as if nothing had happened.
"He's alright, ain't he?" Jack asked innocently.
"...I'm sure he is." Medda nodded. "Race will be here soon with the doctor."
"Michael's bein' real good." Jack tried to speak. Medda nodded, without understanding fully but knowing Jack needed to speak like this as Michael's light was fading.
Each breath the tiny body took seemed to gurgle and creak - a horrifying noise.
A noise that Jack recognised but did not want to think about. He tried to force the images of Little scrap at the refuge in the cold cellar.
Jack wrapped a blanket around Michael.
"There you go, nice and warm. It's nice here. You just keep resting." He told Michael with great care, "...Race is probably gonna bring us some candy. Ain't that sweet!"
A little painful laugh from Michael.
"And tomorrow...tomorrow, do you wanna come sellin' with me. You's so good at readin' now that you'll probably be a top seller! And a face like yours? We're gonna make millions."
A smile. An attempted word.
"Oh yeah. Of course, you'll be dancing. You're the best dancer."
Quiet.
"Please....Miccha." Jack whispered, tears streaming down his face.
A little hand twitched. Maybe Michael was trying to reach out to his big brother. Maybe he was trying to dance one last time. Maybe it was just a reflex.
Almost an hour later, Race returned with the doctor.
The sight that greeted them was a sad one; a small boy, carefully cradling the body of a younger child in his arms.
The doctor shook his head gravely.
“But...He ain’t even ten years old yet.” Jack whispered, looking up at the Doctor, looking from Race to Medda then looking back down at the sleeping face of his beloved baby brother.
Michael moved no more. His grand little soul had taken flight.
Notes:
Thank you for reading-
Please let me know what you think.
Over the next chapters, Jack will be dealing with his grief and meet a new friend....a boy with personality.
Then after many years, the Delancy brothers will return to New York City.
Once Morris and Oscar were like brothers to Jack and Michael.
Maryann Watson12 (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sat 05 Apr 2025 10:42AM UTC
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