Hey. I'm back. (Which I hope is a good thing.) This story is going to be significantly longer than any of the previous fics I've posted, so just a heads up. It's Cruchie-centric, but with plenty of Jack. (Just like almost everything else I write...) Anyway, here it is! Don't forget to review!

"I don't know why I ever thought this would work out."

"There was no way you could've known."

"I should've seen it coming."

"No, you couldn't've—"

"Crutchie, she is an aris," Jack complained, using the shortened form of "aristocrat" that most of the newsies would use to describe the rich and powerful in New York. He had avoided that word ever since he started dating Katherine, knowing that it was somewhat offensive. But, now… Now, he would use it with a vengeance. "I'm some kid who grew up on the streets. We were never going to be a couple. I'm just mad that I let myself fall for her when I knew, I knew, that it would never last." Jack ground his teeth together, his hands clutching the railing of his "penthouse" until his knuckles turned skeletally pale. Jack sighed heavily, staring out into the dark. He examined the buildings that he knew so well from years of hawking papes in their endless shadows. Jack had lived a life in the shadows of the city and he refused to remain unknown and hidden. Not anymore. "I gotta get out of this place," Jack said firmly.

"And go where?" Crutchie asked, though he was pretty sure he knew where this was heading. Jack, every once in a while, would get into these moods where he'd moan about the injustice of New York and the necessity of space and freedom that could only be found in the Wild West. Crutchie would play along with Jack's dreams, listening to the older boy conjure up a land where everything would be perfect. As Jack pontificated about the idealistic nature of Santa Fe as opposed to the oppressive shadow that clung to New York, Crutchie would nod at all the right points, allowing Jack to get the burden off of his chest. It wasn't as if Crutchie didn't care about Jack's dreams; he just understood that Jack needed to complain to someone who was willing to listen and after he was finished, the older boy would feel better and be ready for another day in New York. It was a habit now, a reflex: each boy would take their part, with Jack venting and Crutchie nodding supportively.

Crutchie never expected Jack to act on his dreams. According to his understanding, dreams weren't meant to be acted on: they were a release from the average life, not a blueprint for the future. So, Jack's next words caught Crutchie by complete surprise.

"Santa Fe. And I'm going tomorrow."

"W-what?" Crutchie stuttered.

"I've spent much too much of my life trapped in this squalid city. I ain't gonna waste another day of my life here." Jack had a determined look in his eyes that Crutchie recognized from when they had first started the strike a couple months ago. With a suddenly uncomfortable lurch of his stomach, Crutchie realized that Jack was deadly serious. He was actually going to go off to Santa Fe. He's really going to leave all this—all of us—behind.

Jack suddenly turned toward Crutchie, his eyes pleading. "Will you go with me?"

No. Heavens, no. How would I ever get along in Santa Fe? I've just barely found my place here, in New York. "Yes," Crutchie found himself saying. He had never been able to turn Jack down, which had gotten the pair into quite a bit of trouble before. Crutchie had never really minded following Jack around, ignoring the Delanceys' snide comments about pitiful puppies and such, but at this moment, he was wishing he had found a way to stand up to Jack some time earlier. This wasn't going to turn out well, Crutchie just knew it. He didn't belong in Santa Fe. Maybe Jack did, but Crutchie sure as hell didn't. But, there wasn't anything Crutchie could do now. He had accepted Jack's offer and there was no turning back now. Whatever would happen, would happen. And Crutchie would just have to weather it as best as he could.

Slinging his arm around Crutchie's shoulder, Jack pulled the younger boy closer. "It's gonna be spectacular, Santa Fe is. You'll see. Rolling fields and opportunities springing up like dandelions in the park. It'll just be the two of us, forging a brand new life, far away from all our worries."

But, what if my worries are all in Santa Fe? Crutchie didn't look forward to the prospect of starting over anew, even though Jack seemed to think it would be the best thing to happen to the pair. "It sounds grand, Jack," Crutchie said, his stomach flipping with worry. He was going to leave everything he knew, everything he could do well, just because his friend had said it was a good idea. That didn't seem right, but Crutchie had no other choice. "But, what about the other boys? What're they gonna do, Jack?"

"What other boys?" Jack asked.

"The other newsies," Crutchie pointed out, gesturing down to where the other boys could be found, probably alternating between meaningless arguments and joking with one another. It was too early for any of them to be heading to bed just yet.

"Oh," Jack said, as if he hadn't considered what his decision to leave would mean for the other newsies. Crutchie shook his head, wondering how Jack could even contemplate decisions without deliberating how his actions would affect everyone he knew. Especially something so drastic as leaving for Santa Fe. "I guess I hadn't really thought 'bout it, yet," Jack muttered, itching the back of his scalp almost sheepishly.

Crutchie resisted smacking the older boy in the back of the head. Sometimes, Jack could just be dense. "Yeah, well, they deserve to know something."

"Guess we'll just have to tell them the truth. We'se leaving tomorrow. They can't stop us."

"You'se the leader of the Manhattan newsies. Ya can't just bail on 'em," Crutchie pointed out. If he could just get Jack to see how important his position was, how much he meant to all the boys, maybe they wouldn't leave. Maybe they could just stay where it was safe and Crutchie could be comforted by the relaxation of familiar routine.

Jack didn't appear to be listening and he was nodding to himself, which was never a good sign. "That's Race."

"What?"

"That's Race," Jack repeated. "The leader of Manhattan," he explained, "that's Race." With a smug smile, he added, "I'm retired."

"Ya can't!"

"Why not? It's a free country, ain't it?"

"Jack—" Crutchie began, but was interrupted by the older boy.

"No, Crutch. I'm gettin' out of here and Race will make a fine leader. He's been around almost as long as me." With a wicked grin, Jack continued, "Let's go tell the boys the good news!"

Crutchie really didn't think the news could be classified as good in any stretch of the imagination, but he allowed Jack to help him down the ladder and made his way, silently following, toward the Lodging House. Crutchie felt as if he were stuck in some strange dream; he didn't feel as if he were moving, but the landscape around him was shifting and whizzing past, but somehow in slow motion. It was all very weird and Crutchie felt as if was going to throw up and he still could not believe that he had agreed to go to Santa Fe—Santa Fe—with Jack.

Before Crutchie knew what was happening, he and Jack were back in the Lodging House and all the boys were staring at them and Crutchie realized that somehow he had missed Jack's announcement that they were leaving. No one was speaking and the smile was slowly slipping from Jack's face. Race looked completely and utterly baffled. "Let me get this straight," he said, the words slow and carefully enunciated, as if they had been rehearsed over and over again for a middle school play. "You want me to be the leader." Jack nodded emphatically. "So you and Crutchie can run off to Santa Fe." Race did not look the least bit impressed with Jack's idea.

"You'se been here the longest," Jack pointed out. "You know the ropes just as well as I do."

"That ain't the point," Race ground out. "I ain't gonna be the leader. You is."

"No. I'se leaving with Crutchie. Tomorrow morning, we'se hopping on the first train west. I can't lead from out there. You know that."

"Then don't go," Race suggested, raising an eyebrow at Jack as if he were an errant child.

Jack shook his question. "Outta the question."

"Damn it, Jack, you can't just leave like this."

"I gotta. I need to."

"What about what Crutchie needs?" Race challenged and Crutchie was suddenly pulled into an argument he wanted no part of. He had been perfectly fine, standing on the sidelines, watching the volley of words between Jack and Race. But, now, all eyes were on him and Crutchie felt as if he were clutched with vertigo. Crutchie hated having people stare at him—which really sucked for a cripple—and it felt as if only the crutch was keeping him upright.

Crutchie realized that the other boys were expecting him to say something, anything, but nothing was coming to mind. Nothing that he could actually say. Fears of Santa Fe clouded his mind, but he couldn't voice those. Not when Jack was looking at him pleadingly. Race's eyes were hard, challenging him to go against what Race clearly wanted him to say. "I think Santa Fe will be…" Crutchie began, but couldn't find an adjective that could be used to fill in that blank. "An adventure?" he finished, hoping it didn't sound as much like the question Crutchie knew it was.

"See!" Jack exclaimed proudly. "It'll be an adventure. We'se going tomorrow and you ain't stopping us. So, Race, ya can either be the head of Manhattan, or ya can leave all the newsies leaderless. It's your choice."

"That ain't fair, Jack."

"This is New York," Jack pointed out bitterly. "When has life ever been fair?"

Race shook his head. "I guess you'll do what ya want to do and I can't stop you. But, Jack, Santa Fe may not be any better than the city."

Jack scoffed at the simple idea that that would be the case, but Crutchie found himself having to stop from nodding in agreement. "C'mon, Crutch. We gotta go pack." Crutchie followed Jack to their shared bedroom, unable to completely dissipate the bad feeling that had begun to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Crutchie was roused at the crack of dawn by Jack gently shaking him awake. "We gotta get goin'," Jack said, pulling Crutchie to his feet.

"It's early," Crutchie complained.

Jack shot his friend a strange look. "This is the time we always get up. Every day."

"Yeah, well, I generally don't spend the night before packing up all my stuff and helping you decide which of your art supplies you should or shouldn't bring. Which, by the way, I don't even know why you asked my advice, since you decided to bring everything anyway."

"I was thinking out loud," Jack explained.

Crutchie grinned. "While it may not have been thinking, it was certainly out loud."

"Oh, shut up," Jack muttered, shoving Crutchie gently. "Are you excited?"

"About Santa Fe?" Crutchie asked, feeling that familiar dark emotion settling into his stomach. He was not excited, not even remotely close to excited. Crutchie was terrified. "Why wouldn't I be?" Crutchie answered. It wasn't a yes or a no, really, but could easily be construed as a yes, which Crutchie didn't mind. Let Jack think he was excited. It's what Jack wanted.

"I don't know you just looked…" Jack trailed off, thinking. "Never mind. It's gonna be great, Crutchie. Santa Fe's where we'se gonna be truly living." Jack swept his arm around, gesturing to the room and, possibly, all of New York. "This? This ain't living. This is surviving and it just ain't right. But, Santa Fe is where dreams come true, where life is worth living. It's gonna be perfect, Crutch, I promise."

Crutchie grinned, though it felt false to him. Was Jack even capable of keeping a promise like that? "I know, Jack. I believe you."

"Good, 'cuz if we don't get a move on, we'll miss our train."

The two boys made their way to the train station, Crutchie struggling to balance the bag of his sole belongings without tipping over. Jack noticed the difficulty Crutchie was having and offered to take the bag. "No, I'm fine. I've got it."

"Don't be silly. I have an extra hand; I can carry it," Jack said, reaching for the bag.

Crutchie skipped out of the way, nearly tripping over his crutch from the sudden movement. "I've got it. I can take care of myself," Crutchie explained. Although he doubted Jack realized this, Crutchie knew that he would need to prove that he was capable of handling himself in order to get along in Santa Fe. The West was a world where a man was required to pave his own way and if Crutchie couldn't carry his own bag, he knew that there was just no way he'd be able to make it out there.

"Well, if you insist," Jack remarked, quietly. He didn't completely understand why Crutchie wouldn't allow him to be helpful, but chalked it up to one of Crutchie's independent streaks that would flare up randomly. Jack knew that his friend was overly conscious of his handicap and would do anything to prove that he wasn't any less than his friends, that he could do everything just as well as they could, if not better. Sometimes, though, Jack wished Crutchie would just let people help him. Letting someone help you did not make you less than them, but Crutchie didn't seem to understand this.

They approached the train station and Jack quickly purchased two train tickets before Crutchie could protest. Jack knew that he had more money saved up from working as a newsie and helping illustrate the paper, so he refused to let Crutchie help pay for his ticket. Crutchie would need whatever money he had when they reached Santa Fe. "Two tickets to Santa Fe," Jack announced proudly, feeling as if he were sharing his dream with the whole wide world. The man at the booth did not seem impressed and merely exchanged the money for the two one-way tickets. Well, Jack would not allow that sour man to rain on his parade. "Ready?" Jack asked, gesturing to the black train that awaited in the station.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Crutchie said, grinning. He would have a good time. Or, at least, he'd fake having a good time until he believed his own lie. Crutchie was excellent at fooling himself into believing that he was truly happy.

"It's a new chapter, where we can do anything we want to do. There's no limit to us now, Crutchie!"

Jack, almost giddily, led Crutchie up onto the train, helping the younger man maneuver up the steps and into the passenger car. There were, roughly, ten people in the car already and all of their eyes were drawn to Crutchie's leg, like paper clips to a magnet. Is this what it is going to be like in Santa Fe? People gaping at me like some freak in the circus? Crutchie didn't meet their eyes, though that wouldn't have been difficult since none of them were looking him in the face, and took his seat next to Jack. It felt as if his leg was itching due to the unwanted attention and Crutchie wanted to stand up and shout, "I ain't a freak!" But, he kept his mouth shut like he always did, directing his gaze out the window.

"I can't believe we'se really leaving," Crutchie muttered, taking in the city that he had grown up in, that he had spent his entire life in. And now he was leaving it all behind. Would he ever see those buildings again, stand on the corner of those streets?

"I know," Jack agreed, "I can't believe it's finally happening."

"D'ya think we'll ever go back?"

"Not if I can help it," Jack ground out, his face darkening. Crutchie immediately released the silent hope he had been harboring that maybe Jack would grow sick of Santa Fe and they'd return to New York, that they'd return home. Crutchie now recognized that that would never happen; Jack would travel the world, flitting from place to place, lost in the wonders of the world, before he would ever consider a return. I'll never see it again, Crutchie silently accepted, trying to memorize everything he had known and learned in New York. He'd never be back and there'd only be memories left.

Jack seemed to notice that Crutchie had grown quiet and, incorrectly, attributed it to exhaustion. "Hey, if ya want, ya can take a nap. I'll wake ya when we get close to Santa Fe."

Crutchie didn't want to sleep, didn't want to close his eyes and miss New York as it faded into nothing, but he found himself leaning back against his seat, obediently shutting his eyes. He felt the train jerk into motion and Crutchie suddenly needed to see New York just one more time. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, realizing that if he opened them, he was inviting tears. Crutchie couldn't—wouldn't—cry in front of Jack, not when Jack was so happy, not when all his dreams were coming true. That just wouldn't be fair.

"Santa Fe, here we come," Jack said, and Crutchie could hear the excitement, the anticipation, in his voice.

In his head, Crutchie repeated the phrase, determining that he would make do with whatever life Santa Fe would provide. It couldn't be too bad. It was just a town. And there'd be horses and clay and green and it'd be pretty. "Santa Fe, here we come."

So, what did y'all think? I decided to expound on a different aspect of Crutchie's character, making him a bit more complex than the musical showed, so I really hope you guys can still see it as being in character. Suggestions and advice are always welcome!