Jack lay stunned on the floor as Crutchie hustled out of the room, his head and jaw throbbing, unable to pick himself up.

Crutchie had never hit him before. Not even once. He joked about it, sure, but never socked him a hard one.

Just then, Specs ran in. Jack snapped to attention.

"Jack, did you say somethin' to Crutch? He just humped himself out the door!"

"What?!" Jack yelled. "It's below zero out there, he's gonna freeze his rear!" He held out a hand and Specs helped him up.

Specs took in the ugly mark spreading up Jack's face.

"Your jaw... Crutchie do that?" Jack hastily felt the tender area and came back with blood on his fingers from where the skin split.

"Don't mind me. Get the boys and go get Crutchie. I'm on your heels." Jack growled. Specs nodded and practically leaped down the stairs, Jack grabbed his hat and followed.

By the time Jack came down the stairs, the entire house knew what happened and had been dispersed in groups to look for Crutchie. Davey waited behind in the lower room.

"Jack, your jaw..." He said, eyes wide. Jack resisted the urge to swear at his best friend.

"Ain't nothin' but a bit o' bruisin'" He growled. Davey sighed and handed him an extra coat, which he accepted. Then they stepped out into the frozen street and began calling Crutchie's name with the others.

"Jack! Davey! He's over here!" Someone yelled.

"Looks dead." Someone threw in.

"I got the crutch, it was in the street." Someone else said.

"He looks pretty banged up, musta fallen on the ice."

Crutchie thought he'd been watching the door to the Lodge House, but the next thing he knew, he was being shaken frantically.

"Crutch? Crutchie! Wake up, you hear me?" He vaguely recognized Jack's voice, but couldn't bring his heavy body to respond... He was just too cold.

Crutchie felt himself be lifted gently into the air and carried a short distance before warm air hit him.

"Gotta get those clothes off, he's soaked through." One of the boys said. Slowly, all his clothes began to come off until he was left in his undershirt and pants. Then blankets were piled on him. The feeling in his limbs began to return.

Finally, Crutchie's eyelids fluttered open. He nearly died of fright.

"ARGH!" He screamed, scattering the crowd of Newsies that had been clustered in a tight circle around him.

"Pay up, he was only out for an hour." Race said to Specs. Various exchanges of money went on around the room.

"Les, go get Jack." Someone said.

"Give the man some room!" Les yelled before he ran out the door. The Newsies that had begun to cluster in scuttled away.

"Beat it." Crutchie growled to them all. He pulled the blankets tighter around his skinny shoulders and tried to stand, but his legs gave out and he collapsed back into his chair.

"You, uh... fell pretty hard. Why don't you take it easy." Specs said. Crutchie glared at the older boy and reached up to feel his face. His entire left cheek was swollen, accompanied by a scraped chin and cut eyebrow. Bandages covered his forehead, and looking down he saw that the same was true for both of his knees.

"Sonofa..." He growled. So much for being mature and taking some air. It was just like Jack said. He was pathetic on his own.

Suddenly, he became aware of another pain, cutting into his left hand. He uncurled his fingers to see the gold cross had cut into his palm. He must have taken it from Jack by accident when he left. When he had fallen, he'd fallen on his knuckles, now ragged and still bleeding.

"We tried to get it away from you, but you didn't wanna open your hand." David said. "I could bandage you now if you like."

Crutchie switched the cross into his right hand and held his left out as Davey bandaged it up.

Just then, Les and Jack burst in.

"Crutch..." Jack said, voice haggard. He looked upset. Crutchie's anger flared again, so he looked away. The other Newsies took their cue and exited the room except for Davey, who kept bandaging.

"Crutchie, come on... I'm sorry, okay?" Jack pleaded once the others had gone.

"Okay." Crutchie said.

"That don't sound like it's okay." Jack growled.

"What do you want me to say, Jack? That it's just fine and dandy? It Ain't." He held out the cross. "Here."

Jack stared silently at the cross, then asked in a dangerous tone, "What's this about, Crutchie? You been sore all damn day about something."

"I'm sick of this. This house, this leg, the way you all baby me!" Crutchie yelled. He tried to stand up, but his legs failed him and he was thrown back into his chair. He willed himself not to cry.

"Well. I ain't forcin' ya to be here." Jack said, obviously hurt. Crutchie felt the guilt gnaw at him as Jack slammed off the lightswitch and shut the door forcefully behind him, leaving Crutchie to sit in the dark downstairs. He let out a sob and chucked the cross at the closed door.

Eventually, Crutchie pulled himself to his feet and used various objects to drag himself to the stairwell. He painfully picked up the cross and held it in his hand. It took him a long time to get up the stairs, and by the time he got to his room, he was shaking and exhausted, body aching everywhere.

He paused outside the door to the room that he and Jack usually shared.

The door was shut and the light was off. He obviously wasn't welcome in their bunker anymore.

Crutchie looked at the cross in his bandaged hand, then hung it on the door handle. Maybe Jack wouldn't be so mad in the morning.

With that thought, Crutchie dragged himself up two more sets of stairs to an uninhabited bunk, throwing himself down on the first bed he saw and falling instantly to sleep.

Downstairs, Jack listened guiltilty to Crutchie's labored steps as they climbed the many stairs to their room. He heard them stop on the landing outside their room, then shuffle slowly up to the empty room two floors up.

Unable to fall asleep until long after Crutchie's steps faded, Jack felt guiltier than hell.