Hi again, fansies! I'm back!

So this is the story I mentioned in "By Candlelight" (which I suggest you read, though this is NOT a sequel) and takes place around the same time. Jack and Katherine are married, the newsies have grown up. Crutchie is around 19 or 20. So basically, since Snyder was arrested the Refuge has been made into an orphanage, with a separate section for kids getting into trouble on the streets. It has become a real refuge for the kids. Crutchie works there and gets assigned to troubled kids to be a sort of mentor and help them work through their problems.

This is a very different story from what is usually posted on here, but I really hope you'll read (and enjoy) it. It includes everyone's favorite Crutchie, a couple of OC's, and some others that will show up later. I'm really excited to see what you think. So go on, give this one a try!

Crutchie was daydreaming. It was a rare moment of quiet in the Refuge. All the children were outside playing, before dinner, and Crutchie wasn't on duty. Well, he was, just not kid-watching duty. He was supposed to be cleaning up one of the bathrooms, but the children were all so neat—desperate to please the workers—that he didn't have to do much. Now he stood in the hallway, staring off into space, dreaming about a young lady he worked with.

Her name was Violet.

Violet had started about two weeks ago, and everyone liked her. Crutchie liked her especially. Her long, flowing dark locks that she braided each morning but let down in the evenings…her sparkling blue eyes…it was enough to make anyone feel woozy. But Crutchie's infatuation went deeper than looks. Violet's attitude was what he liked most. She had only asked about his leg once, on the day she'd started, nodded solemnly when Crutchie explained briefly about the polio, then never mentioned it again. To her, his leg was just part of him, just how he was, and he appreciated that. Also, she didn't act delicate like other young ladies he'd seen on the streets, who practically swooned at the sight of dirt or grime. Violet seemed immune to such nonsense; if one of the kids was bleeding, she wasted no time in cleaning and bandaging the wound. She didn't mind if her dress got dirty; she would shrug and say, "Oh, well. I'm just gonna change it again tomorrow." Crutchie also loved her voice. It was soft and gentle, and he liked how she said his name. "Ker-utchie," that's how it sounded. "Crutchie." He could almost hear it now. "Crutchie." So sweet and lovely and…

"Crutchie! Are you daydreaming or something?" Violet smiled at him as she approached from the stairs. Crutchie's cheeks flushed.

"Me? Oh, uh, well…was only…I had just…"

"It's all right, Crutchie. We all need a break sometimes." She laughed, and it was like the tinkling of bells. "Anyway, you've been assigned to a new boy. Caught for stealing and fighting."

"Oh. Uh, that's great. Musta just been brought in, huh?"

"Yes." She smiled, shuffled through some notes on a clipboard. "His name is Oliver, and he was described as 'angry'. Hmm. Aren't they all, at first? He was reported stealing a loaf of bread, and right afterwards, got into a fight with—ooh, here's a name you might recognize—Les Jacobs. One of the newsboys?"

Crutchie nodded. "Davey's not going to be very happy," he muttered.

"The only reason Les didn't have to come is because he told the police his name right away, and passerby said that he was trying to stop Oliver from getting away."

Violet handed Crutchie the notes, which he scanned quickly and nodded. "He's to be on extra supervision, then?" he asked.

"Yes. If all goes well, I'll see you—and him—at dinner."

"Yeah. Um. See you Violet." Hellos and goodbyes, those were the times Crutchie got awkward. Everything in between usually went fine. He shook his head to clear it, and limped down the hallway towards the dormitory for the kids brought in for crime. He always tried to prepare himself whenever he was assigned to a new kid, but each case was so unique that he could never truly be prepared.

Crutchie figured Oliver must be about fifteen or sixteen, around Les's age. So he was surprised when he opened the door and saw a much younger boy, probably ten or eleven, sitting alone on the bed furthest away from the door. He sat straight, facing the window.

Crutchie started over to the boy, his alternating step-thud sounding extra loud in the quiet room. He noticed that Oliver seemed to shrink with every step Crutchie took.

"Hello there, Oliver," Crutchie said in an upbeat voice, as he reached the bed. "How are you?"

Oliver looked over sharply and studied Crutchie, his eyes lingering much longer than was polite on his bum leg. Still, Crutchie gave him a winning smile. He seemed to sit up straighter after that.

"How do you know my name?" Oliver demanded suddenly. He had a strange accent, a strong British dialect with a few New York inflections mixed in.

Crutchie shrugged. "Well, I got to know your name if we're gonna be working together."

"I don't know about together. We'll have to see. What's your name, then?"

"Folks call me Crutchie."

"That's a dumb name. Makes you sound like a sissy. What's your real name?"

Crutchie's smile faded slightly. "You can just call me Crutchie please, Oliver."

Oliver rolled his eyes and stared out the window. Crutchie observed him for a moment. He had light blond hair and piercing blue eyes, similar to Violet's but lacking her warmth. The trousers, suspender straps, and collared shirt led Crutchie to believe that the boy hadn't been living on the streets very long. Oliver had a black eye and several bruises and cuts on his face—from his fight with Les, Crutchie figured. Someone would come in after Crutchie was done, to clean Oliver's wounds.

"So, Oliver. I'm here to tell you about how things work here. You'se gonna be staying for a while, and I hope you'll get along great." Oliver scoffed as if he doubted it. Crutchie chose to ignore it and continued. "Right now, everyone's outside playing. Whenever we goes outside, the rule is that you can't leave the sight of whoever's supervising."

"Why not?" Oliver shot at him.

"So no one gets lost," Crutchie answered calmly. "That's one of the only times you'se gets to mix in with the kids from the orphanage section. Mostly, you'se just gonna be with the kids here—"

"In the jail," Oliver interrupted.

"Well, not quite." However, Oliver looked so sulky that Crutchie decided not to push it. "Every morning, breakfast is at seven. If you ain't awake by then, you don't get breakfast. Lunch is at noon, and supper's at five. In between, sometimes we'll have visitors come in for some excitement, but usually the you just gotta play or talk. We gots stuff for you to play with."

"What if I don't want to play?"

"Then you don't have to."

"Oh." Oliver went back to staring out the window.

"So tonight, if you want, you can come down for dinner and meet everyone. If you ain't ready, you can stay up here for tonight. But I would come down if I was you—sounds fun, don't it?"

"No," Oliver spat, "I'll stay up here. When are you going to leave me alone?"

"In just a sec, Oliver." Crutchie sat on the bed next to him. The boy deliberately moved a few inches, looking at his knees. "You know, Oliver," Crutchie said in a low voice, leaning in slightly, "I was hoping you and me could be friends. I could help you out, if you want. If you ever got a question or just wanna talk, come and find me. I always find time for my friends." Crutchie gave him a warm smile. He'd used very similar lines to charm other stubborn kids and they always reacted well.

Oliver, however, glared at Crutchie. "We're not friends," he said quickly.

Crutchie paused for a moment, then sighed. This boy would take some extra work. "Well, Oliver, if you wanna come down for supper, you sure can. I gotta go help set up now. I hope to see ya down there." He stood and began limping back towards the door.

"I'm not coming," Oliver spat after him. Crutchie stopped to look back at the young boy, so full of spite, who had presently gone back to staring out the window. He shook his head, then continued to the door, wondering how he could possibly get through to young Oliver.

So there it is! First chapter, done! The next chapter will be from Oliver's point-of-view. I'm not sure if switching POV's will be a regular thing in this story or not; we'll have to see! I've got a lot of good ideas for this, so I hope you like it because there will be a lot more of it. Don't forget to R&R-give me your thoughts on this first chapter!

-Sis21K