FicWad

Christmas had come and gone. No one in the lodging house felt much like celebrating. The families of the children the boys had saved took up a collection of food and gifts for the newsies. Everyone in the lodging house had gifts, new shoes, gloves, hats and a few toys and books to be shared. It was a feast for the senses, but without Crutchy and Father Mike, it just wasn't the same.

And then there was Jack.

He hadn't said a word to anyone in days. Jack Kelly, leader of the Manhattan newsies, was never at a loss for words. But since the night they had found Crutchy's lifeless body, Jack wouldn't talk to anyone, other than to ask about Skittery and Blink, to be sure they were alright. He stayed in the sick room, deep burns on his back made it impossible for him to find a comfortable position, he had to spend the majority of his time on his stomach, which made avoiding conversation easy. He would simply turn his head or close his eyes. Blink, Skittery and the others, would take turns sitting in the room with him, but he was alone in his own tortured soul.

Eternally hungry, like all of the other growing boys in the lodging house, Jack was never before known to willingly skip a meal. But he refused to eat any of the food they brought him, even when they brought back his favorites from Tibby's, he would just pick at it or shake his head and shove the plate away.

"It ain't healthy!" Race complained to Skittery one night. "It's like HE died in dat fire wit Crutchy."

Skittery nodded solomly. "We gotta do somethin'."

"Yeah, we gotta get Jack ta snap outta it. We all loved Crutchy... but... we gotta move on... " Mush offered.

"But he won't talk ta anybody." Race frowned. "Who's 'e gonna listen to if not us?"

Skittery furrowed his brow. "Da only person I can think of is Spot."

"Are you outta yer mind?" Race lit his cigar. "Who's gonna go to Brooklyn ta get 'im? It ain't like he's been bustin down da door ta see Jack.

Mush glared at Race. "Hey! It's a good idea! Better than what's goin on now! Just sitting here doin nothin!"

Blink exited the sick room. His face was pale and full of worry. "Blink? what's wrong?"

"Doc Trenton says Jack's gettin woise. Pneumonia. His fever's gone up. If he don't snap outta it and staht fightin..." Blink's voice trailed off, not wanting to admit to himself or the others his fears of what could happen next.

"No, we ain't gonna let dat happen!" Race shook his head.

Skittery frowned, even deeper than normal. "I'll go."
Race looked at Skittery like he'd grown a third eye. "Uh, just how much smoke DID you inhale in dat fire?"

Mush's mouth hung open for a second. "What's gotten into you? You got a death wish or somethin?"

Skittery managed a small smile and shruged. "I dunno. I guess it's just dat I watched him almost die once and I ain't gonna sit by and watch it happen again, for real this time, specially if I can do somethin about it."

The busy bunkroom fell silent.

Skittery looked a bit pale, but he was determined. He stood up and adjusted his cap. "I'se goin' to get Spot."

Every Newsie in earshot stared at him.

He was nervous, actually, scared, was more accurate, Brooklyn wasn't exactly the safest place to go in the light of day, let alone at night, but he was undaunted. "Right. So which a ya is goin wit me?"

Mush stood up and pulled himself to his full height. "I'll go wit ya, Skitts." He nodded, and gave Blink the strongest smile he could muster. "Try not ta worry 'bout jack... just..."

"We'll hurry." Skittery nodded as he and Mush grabbed their coats.