Hello! This is the second Newsies fanfiction that I will begin posting so far. My first one was Start of a Rebellion, go check it out if you haven't already.

Originally I was going to wait until I was completely done with this story to begin posting it, but I couldn't wait. In my opinion this chapter alone is the greatest thing I've ever written. So I hope you guys enjoy it!

The screams and shouts were almost too much to handle. At least a dozen men and even a few woman were surrounding two others, cheering, calling out for one or the other to throw a punch or swipe a leg. All the others that sat inside sat in silence, in their own world, ignoring the chaos around them. The smell of alcohol was rich and wasn't making matters any better. Words slurred together and glass bottles were being swung around in the air. It was past midnight. And all this was about to get a whole lot worse if it wasn't for a boy, a seventeen year old, tall, well built, smug, pushing his way through the drunken crowd, swatting away hands that tried to hold him back.

The boy finally got a look at the middle of the crowd and, most importantly, the two special individuals in the center of the gathered circle. He saw a man, at least in his early thirties, in no shape to drive, or even walk in a straight line. He had bright red hair that was sticking off of his head at odd angles and his tie was crooked and loose. His suit was expensive, suggesting he worked at a high ranking, very stressful job. On his left wrist was a watch, golden, its hands set three hours behind.

In the middle of all this commotion was a table. It was on its side, cracked even, and scattered all around it was a mess of cards. But the boy didn't take too much notice to these things. No, no, no, all he saw was the reason he was here. The other side of this vain fight.

Another boy. Clearly younger than the first to anyone but the people in this bar. His short, curly, blond hair stuck to his head with sweat as he continued to dodge and back away from the flying fists. He wasn't exactly as well built as the first boy and, to all that didn't know him, was considered weak. But he could hold his own. Getting into a fight with him would not end well because not only did he have a lot of overlooked physical strength, he was also very fast and very smart. His too small, too thin frame was covered in only an old, ratty t-shirt and some ripped jeans. And, boy, was he ready to put up a fight. Sadly, he wouldn't get to be thrown around any longer.

Just as the old man was about to take a swing, the seventeen year old stepped right in front of the younger boy, who he could hear breathing heavily, suggesting they'd been at this little game for more than only a few minutes. "Whoa whoa whoa, fellas," the boy started. "What's the problem here?" He put his hands up, in front of his chest, assuring the man that he came in peace... for now.

The slobbering drunk scoffed, then gave one, almost humorous, laugh before his face became annoyed and angry. "Not that it's any of your business," the words slurred together, making it hard to understand, but the kid caught the words, barely, as he had to resist the urge to cough when the strong smell of beer met his nose when the man spoke. "But that little bitch," he pointed behind the seventeen year old, trying to lunge at the smaller kid only for the older boy to continue to move into his way. "Just cheated me outta a hundred bucks!"

The boy raised his eyebrows at this. He crossed his arms and glanced over his shoulder at the boy who supposedly did this. His chest was heaving as he constantly tried to catch his breath. He looked up at the older boy with eyes that could only be described as pleading and so the older boy turned back to the man. "How do ya know he was cheatin'?" He asked, knowing for a fact this man was lying.

The drunk stuttered for a moment. It seemed he couldn't find the right words. Then he sighed in anger. "No one can win at poker like it's just nothin'!" He pointed out, making another lunge for the boy but was, yet again, blocked. "He played three games and won all of 'em! No ones that good!"

"So ya never actually caught him?" The boy asked with a smirk. Then he took a moment to take in the rest of his surroundings. He knew his time was about to be up and he didn't see a way out. Everyone was still around them, blocking his view, still screaming for the fight to continue. But he knew if they didn't get out of there soon, things would take a turn for the worse. And, the boy quickly realized soon had become now, when the man's face hatched into a smile and he got a real look at both of the boys, the younger one mostly.

"Wait a minute..." he slurred, "I know what this is!" He announced to the crowd who all quieted down, waiting for the man to continue. "You ain't no hero tryin' ta stop a bar fight!" He shoved the boy's chest with his finger and all the kid could do was sneer at him. "Ya just don't want no one ta call a cop on your underage friend here!"

The boy was shocked that this drunken man could put all that together in his state. After all, he could barely form a sentence but, none the less, he was right. The kid tried to shake his head and laugh it off anyways, not expecting what was about to happen next. The man started shouting again. "Grab 'em!" And immediately, the smaller boy's arms had been seized by two other men, being painfully twisted behind his back.

The younger kid struggled as he watched the older boy dodging hands that were reaching out to trap him. The small boy cried out and tried to run to his rescuer's aid but was unable. And as he continued to try and slip out of the mens' grasp, he failed to see a woman next to him with a glass bottle of beer in her hand. It was half empty and it was raised in her slender hand above her head. The boy just kept struggling, desperate to make it to the other boy who was fighting off the drunks who tried to grab him. He didn't expect glass to shatter over his head and for bitter smelling liquid to cover him as he fell to his knees, trying to push away the black spots that filled his vision.

The boy heard the glass break, followed by the heart wrenching scream of the other kid. The whole place seemed to stop as the kid's knees hit the ground and his head hung low. The seventeen year old looked back at the man as he gave an evil smile. "Maybe we can 'ave some fun with 'em first." The older boy cringed at the drunken tone of the man who was now eying the kid on the ground. Some folks walked away, others joined in, clawing at the poor boy like animals, but no one did anything to stop them. So the tall kid pushed up the sleeves on his dark red, old, zip up sweatshirt, and did the only thing he could think to do.

As fast as he could the kid turned to the man that he had quickly grown to hate, his fist clenched and ready to swing and he didn't hesitate before punching the drunk square in the nose.

The man screamed in pain and fell to the floor. No one came to his aid. He glared at the boy but made no move to retaliate. So the boy turned to look at the crowd that was now shocked into silence. Then as quickly as it stopped, it started again. People were yelling for someone to call the police and others were yelling for another fight to start but the boy heard none of it as he made his way to the other kid.

The younger boy was fighting the darkness that clouded around him. He tried to stay at the surface so he could escape somehow. He weakly struggled in the grip that had his arms pinned behind him but he was trapped. Then he looked up to see his savior step up in front of the drunk bullies that held him still. Even in the kid's state, he could see the fury that filled the other boy's face.

"So fellas," the older boy cracked his knuckles and straightening himself up to his full height. "Ya gonna let him go? Or do I gotta do this the hard way?" He asked, trying his best not to look down at the boy that would be face down on the ground right now if not for the two men holding his arms.

One of the men scoffed and shook his head. Reluctantly, he dropped the poor kid's arm which was immediately grabbed by the other man. He didn't seem drunk. He just seemed like he wanted a fight. And right now, the boy seemed to have no other choice but than to grant him his wish and swing his fists at the man's head.

When another fight began, the man dropped the almost unconscious kid's arm, causing the small boy to fall to the ground, face first into the broken glass. The rest was a blur. All the kid heard was yelling and fighting and it seemed to go on forever until he heard the crowd yelling for more because it had seemingly stopped for a moment. When he felt a pair of hands on his back, about to yank him back up, he flinched. Truth was, he could've handled a fight with one very drunk sore loser but, after that ended, he was sadly outnumbered. He wasn't ready for another fight. Luckily, that wasn't what was happening.

The seventeen year old boy yanked up the young gambler and stood him to his feet, trying his best to ignore the chimes of the glass that he pulled the kid out of. He tucked the smaller boy underneath his right arm and carefully guided him to the backdoor of the small bar, the one the kid must've come in through. He held the boy up, helping him walk out and get far enough away that they knew they couldn't be found by anyone in that damn place.

The tall boy gently lowered the kid onto the ground, leaning him up against the wall of an alleyway, behind some trashcans, trying his best to conceal them both from unwanted, peering eyes. He saw the kid, struggling to keep his eyes open, breathing hard like he'd been running and all he wanted to do was make it stop. He wiped away little pieces of glass that had stuck to the boy's shirt and some to his pale, bruised skin. Both of them ignored the strong smell of beer that covered the boy's small frame as they hid from view.

The older boy relaxed a bit as the boy seemed to regain control of his eyes and look up at him. Though he saw the regret in the kid's eyes, and a bit of fear. And boy, did he have reason for that.

"Are you alright?" The seventeen year old asked, placing his hand on the kid's cheek. The younger boy groaned and weakly coughed as he tried to readjust himself on the wall but nodded anyway. "Good." The taller boy said flatly before he smacked the other kid in the chest, not enough to do any damage, but enough to make the kid let out a small word of hurt. "Anthony Higgins, what the hell were ya thinkin'?!" He shouted.

The boy, Anthony, flinched at the use of his full name. It was rarely used, only on the angriest of occasions would it be yelled in his face. But he didn't answer, waiting for the older boy to continue in his silence. "When I told ya ta get outta the house ta get away from a drunk man that was afta ya, ya immediately go find anotha' drunk man ta beat the hell outta ya?! What the hell were ya thinkin'?" He scolded, hoping no one was around to hear them and call the cops because it was after midnight. After their curfew.

"Jack, I-" The smaller boy tried to speak but the other, Jack, wasn't quite finished yet.

"How long did ya think ya would go until someone found out you was underage?" The boy asked, no longer yelling, but still speaking firmly enough to make the kid look down in shame. "You're fifteen, Race. You had no business bein' in there." Jack's voice was filled to the brim with anger. But Race knew that Jack had just been worried sick. "And so help me God, kid, if you had a drink-" The older boy cut himself off when he saw the younger boy close his eyes and hide his face from Jack's view with his hands. "Race... tell me you didn't." Jack wasn't asking. He was more like warning the boy.

Race shrugged his shoulders and moved his hands, his mouth desperately trying to come up with a word, an explanation, anything that would make Jack's anger lessen. But he knew it wouldn't work like that. So he dropped his hands and sighed. "The guy said if I didn't he wouldn't gamble anymore." He explained. "He said he wasn't goin' up against someone with an unfair advantage."

Jack sharply inhaled, trying in vain to control his anger. "Racetrack, what the hell were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself killed!" Jack scolded, gesturing to the boy. "It's a miracle we even got outta there!" He realized the yelling was getting him no where. Race was tired, hurt and possibly a little bit drunk and he was shutting down at Jack's outbursts. So, instead, Jack lowered himself into a squating position right in front of the fifteen year old. "What were ya thinkin' kid?" He asked, gently this time, wanting, for once, to know what went on in this kid's head.

"First off, I ain't no kid! I'm only two years younger than you." Race retaliated. But then he stopped and remembered why he'd done it. Why he'd risked being arrested for the past three hours while he gambled for a little extra cash. "And I was thinkin' that Crutchie ain't eaten in two days..." he whispered, angrily. Not angry at Jack, but angry at so many other things. "And you haven't eaten in longer. And I was thinkin' that if we just have a little extra money, we could get outta here. Go to that place out west you're always daydreamin' about because-" Race stopped himself as the sleepless nights, the running and the fighting and all the emotions caught up to him, causing his voice to crack. "Because we don't deserve this..."

Jack shook his head as the boy in front of him sniffled and wiped away his tears before they fell. He twisted around his body and let himself lean up against the wall that the younger boy was propped up against. He took the kid into his arms and Race melted into him. He didn't cry, only sniffled while Jack rubbed his back. The older boy looked down at him as something occurred to him. "Race, when was the last time you ate?" His response was Race's silence. The boy buried himself deeper in his embrace and Jack shook his head at his own carelessness. "Race?" He asked again.

Race remained quiet. And Jack grew more and more worried. He tried to wrack his brain for a moment that he last saw the young blond eating something, anything, and found that he didn't recall anything. Last time he'd seen Race with food in his hand... "You gave it to me." The young gambler still didn't reply. Damn it. "Four days Race?" Jack asked. "Four days since you've eaten?"

"Jack, I-" Race tried, but he cut himself off. "You were hungry... could barely keep yourself from shakin'..." He explained. "I couldn't just eat in front of you and be ok with it."

"Racetrack..." Jack sighed, pulling away from the kid so he could see his young, innocent face. He shook his head, taking Race's face in his hands. "It is not your job to take care of me." He told him, sincerely. "That's my job. I'm the oldest. I'm supposed ta take care of you and Crutchie and you're not supposed ta starve yourself for me..." Jack's voice cracked with emotion.

"I don't care." Jack was taken back at Race's response. His voice was exhausted and weak and Jack realized now that Race had probably been seriously hurt during that fight. "I don't care that you're the oldest!" Race slurred, not out of drunkenness, but out of the night he'd given up sleep to earn a little extra cash. Race was exhausted. "Does the word brother mean somethin' to ya?" He asked. "I don't care how much older you are, Kelly. You're my brother and brothers look out for each other. We protect each other!"

Jack smiled and wiped at the unshed tears in his eyes. "Kid..." The older boy laughed and shook his head. "I couldn't of asked for better brothers." He swore and Race smiled at him. But that smile was short lived as the boy's eyes slid shut for a moment and he slumped against the wall. Jack panicked, but only a moment later Race was wide awake, coughing violently.

"J-Jack." He managed to choke out before he pushed himself from the wall, turned, and all of the contents of his stomach, which wasn't much, were a mess on the ground. He coughed as his body searched for more material to dispose of but found none and left the boy dry heaving on his hands and knees as Jack rubbed his back and ran hands through his sticky, messy, damp hair.

After what felt like hours, Race was done. Jack let the boy rest against him as he tried to find the strength to move. Then he heard a very faint whisper. "What about my clothes?" The poor kid asked. Jack furrowed his eyebrows.

"What about 'em?" He asked, looking over the kid, making sure he was truly ok.

"If he gets anywhere near me... he'll know where I was. I'm covered in that woman's beer." Race explained, weakly. Jack nodded and sat in silence for a moment, taking in the silence of a city that was never supposed to sleep.

"I ain't gonna let 'im touch ya Race." Jack vowed, placing a soft, brotherly kiss in the boy's curly blond hair. "Plus, he's passed out on the couch right now. That's the only reason I left Crutch alone with him. We have at least until noon tomorrow to wash your clothes."

Race nodded. As much as he wanted to sleep in the moment, in his brother's arms in the silence of midnight in New York City, the screams echoed in his head. And not only from that night. The screams that haunted Race everyday. The angry screams of his mother who was supposed to be there for them, the desperate cries of his brothers as he was ripped from their arms, the drunken screams of a man who couldn't care less weather they were dead or alive. Race shivered as he recalled these things and realized just how cold it was at that moment, in the middle of September. Almost immediately, Jack's sweatshirt was around him and he felt safe. It was too big for him, but he didn't mind. It was warm and welcoming, just like Jack. Just like his big brother.

Jack smiled and pushed Race to his feet. "Let's get you home kid." And they walked off into the night, forgetting about the horrors they knew they would soon face.

Thank you so much for reading! This is one of my favorite stories I've ever written. It is an adventure for me to write it. Unlike my other story, these updates probably won't come as quickly, but I will finish it. I'm determined.

Make sure to go check out my other stories, if you liked this one so far, you'll definitely like my others.

Again, thank you for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! I always love to hear from you guys! Love you and see you later! ;)