A shadow moving at the window, faintly illuminated by the gaslights down the block. A hand, pressing against the cool glass pane. The slow, quiet shriek of rusted metal as the window was pried open. The cautious moment before the shadow ducked inside the darken room. A figure landing crouched on the grimy floor without a sound. There was a pause, a quiet moment as the stranger's muscular shoulders relaxed. He sighed in relief.

"I'se wondering when you'd be gettin' here."

Suddenly there was the familiar sound of a match being lit, and a single flame burst into being. A thin, pale face was illuminated, its mouth cocked in a lopsided smile. The figure yelped and promptly fell onto his bum.

"Crutchie! Jesus, don'tcha know not ta scare a guy like dat?!" Crutchie ignored him, turning instead to a candle. His brow furrowing in concentration, Crutchie held the flame to the wick until it too caught aflame. He blew out the match and sent it skidding across the floor.

"So," Crutchie said evenly, taking the candle and holding it up. "Where've you been, Race?"

"Nowheres, that's where." Race pouted. In a swift motion he picked himself off the floor, brushing invisible dust off himself. "I think the real question is, why are yoose in my room?"

"Waiting for you to show up again, punk." Crutchie said, one eyebrow quirking up playfully. "I've been waiting here an awful long while. Hope ya don't mind that I helped meself to a few of your cigars..."

"You didn't!" Race exclaimed, rushing over to where Crutchie was sitting on Race's bed. Race threw back his pillow, plucking a dented metal box from its spot nestled deep into the mattress. He flipped the lid open, sitting down next to Crutchie and desperately counting the remaining cigars.

"Nah, keep your shirt on!" Crutchie chuckled. "I didn't steal none of your cigars. Smoke don't agree with me. Although, now I know where you's been keeping them..."

"Aw, sod off." Race muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in amusement. He hunched his broad shoulders, his elbows resting on his legs as he rolled a cigar between his fingers. Crutchie shook his head, his flaxen hair falling into his face. He set the candle down on the floor.

"So Racetrack," Crutchie sighed, gripping his gimp leg with both hands and swinging it onto the bed. "Ya going to tell me where ya really were, or what? I've spent half the night worried sick about ya." Race shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the limp leg spread between them. He took his newsboy cap in his hands, crumbling it in his fist nervously.

"I didn't mean for ya to worry, Crutch." Race said, genuine shame in his voice as he looked at the smaller boy. "How did ya figure out I'd gone, anyhows?"

"I saw ya out on the fire escape earlier." Crutchie said calmly, his big brown eyes lit with concern. "But you're not answering my question."

"It's nothing, Crutch." Race said, standing up. He paced in front of the bed, flexing his strong arms agitatedly. "Forget 'bout it."

"I can't, you know dat." Crutchie said. "Something's wrong, ain't it?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"Yeah, sure." Crutchie said, smiling sadly at his friend. "Come on Race, ya think I don't know ya?"

"Do the guys know that I... that I left?"

"Just me."

"I can't tell ya Crutch. It's betta that way, for the both of us." Race turned to Crutchie, hands deep in his pockets. "You ain't lookin' too good there, Crutch." Race took in his friend's weakened appearance. Crutchie groaned, leaning back and lolling his head to one side.

"Good grief, not you too. I've already got Nurse Jack and Matron Katherine nagging me every moment of the day."

"And they don't know you're down here, do they?" Race asked, mirroring Crutchie's movement and leaning against the opposite wall. Crutchie flushed sheepishly.

"No, they don't. Katherine woulda never allowed me to climb down those stairs meself." Crutchie swallowed, his eyes loosing their brightness for a moment. But then he glanced back up at Race, a smile forcefully spreading across his face. "But I've been cooped up in da upstairs way too long!"

"You betta get back up there before someone notices you've gone." Race said, looking away. Crutchie sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. Yoose right, of course. But promise me one thing first." Crutchie leaned forward, his face turning solemn. "If you're in trouble, come and tell me. 'Kay? I know I ain't the strongest or the fastest guy here." Crutchie shrugged. "But I'll listen. And I will help."

Race stared at his friend, a lump forming in his throat. Words confessing everything seemed right at the tip of his tongue, words ready to flood like a torrent and maybe then there would be an answer staring him in the face-

But Race bit his tongue instead. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Thanks, Crutch." He said, his mind abuzz. "I really do appreciate that, bud."

"Oh." Crutchie said softly, sounding disappointed. Race felt a flutter of guilt in his chest. "Well, all right. Ya know where to find me. I guess I betta let you get to bed." Crutchie reached underneath the bed and pulled out his crutch. The poor piece of wood wrapped in rags seemed to be worse for wear. Crutchie stood shakily, his gimp leg falling to the floor with a dull thunk. Race winced.

"See yoose tomorrow, Race." Crutchie said with an encouraging smile, hobbling over to the door. He was using the crutch more than usual, Race could see.

"Crutchie, wait."

"Yeah?" Crutchie turned to look back from the threshold, his pale face half hidden in the dim light.

"Let me- let me at least help ya back to your room." Crutchie gave a lopsided grin.

"Fine by me. As long as ya can keep up, punk."

Please review!