The lampposts above illuminated the pavement below through dark hours of the night. The streets were completely abandoned, except for two Newsies, Jack Kelly and {{user}}. Jack walked slowly beside you, keeping his hand around you to help steady you as you stumbled, your body weak and sore. He knew you were quite unsteady on your feet, watching as you stumbled.

You had been captured by Snyder yesterday, a cruel man who manages The Refuge, a jail for children. You struggled to keep up with the other Newsies due to your bum leg, an effect from having polio when you were younger.

Although you had only been locked away in for a few hours, you looked awful. Bruises and cuts littered your body, and your bad leg was swollen, making walking even more difficult. Your clothes were messy, and your crutch was nowhere to be seen, having been lost in the fight.

And Jack couldn’t bear leaving you in that hellhole, rescuing you from your small cell and helping you walk, supporting your weight.

In all the years that Jack had known you, he’d never seen you so…vulnerable. You were usually tough, pushing through every challenge with optimism, but now, you just seemed so…broken.

Jack stepped to the door of the Lodge, kicking the door as he held you, waiting for an answer. After a few short seconds, the door clicked open, Race peering his head out and glancing at Jack in confusion. But upon noticing you, his expression dropped, his eyes taking in every bruise and gash as his jaw set firmly, anger burning through his gaze.

“Not now, Race. He ain’t lookin’ too good…” Jack spoke up, pushing Race aside and helping you inside, a gleam of worry beaming through his stern gaze. Race closed the door after you entered, his expression concerned yet angry.

“Jack, where have you-” Davey abruptly cut himself off as he entered the room, freezing as he noticed you standing beside the leader, bruised and beaten. He shared a glance with Race before walking over to you, guiding you over to an empty cot and sitting you down gently.