Life With the Newsies- One Shots- OPEN to OCs

When Dreams Become Nightmares

A/N: This is another sad AU where basically everything with the strikes goes to crap. Go get your tissues or entire bucket of ice cream because it's gonna be a sad one. Thanks to Nycnewsgirl and nutcracker645 for helping me come up with this one and for providing input on the different ideas. I don't think the OCs are gonna be in this one but if they are....Katie belongs to BeckyMerari1909, Falcon belongs to Runner_Weirdo, Pups belongs to 23gatkins, and Ally belongs to heythatsmycigar18. I also did some research just to try keep things historically accurate when it came to a certain aspect of that story (you'll see what I mean once we get going). If you're curious what I turned up (which isn't a lot but I did do some research), drop me a comment and I'm happy to share the things I looked at. Without further ado, here we go. I don't own the Newsies, so please don't sue (seriously, why would you wanna sue a broke college kid anyways? I literally have no money to give you.)

A young man hangs his head, twiddling his thumbs in thought behind him. Was there any way this would ever end?

"So, what will it be, boy?" the threatening voice of the newspaper tycoon fills the room, asking what seems like an innocent question but could very well be a death sentence for the young man and his brothers.

"You promise not to hurt them?" he asks, raising his head ever so slightly. His hazel eyes pierce into the gaze of the newspaper tycoon. His nerves cry out from the pressure place upon his upper arms by the pairs of hands holding him back. He feels trapped, like a canary caught in between the jaws of a famished beast.

If they ever survived this, the young man made a mental note to throw Oscar Delancey head first into a trash can.

"Once you're out of the picture, it doesn't matter what happens to them, does it? They'll have no leader. They'll see no need to fight. Things will go back to the way they were before," the newspaper tycoon decides, "They're just boys."

"They ain't just boys," the young man corrects, "They'se done more heroic acts than you'se ever done."

"I fought in a war, boy," the newspaper tycoon corrects him, "And while you may know a thing or two about heroics, it hasn't been enough to keep you out of trouble, has it?" He bridges his fingers together and leans across the desk. "Do we have a deal?"

The young man looks over at a young woman to his right. Her hands are clasped in front of her, auburn curls spilling over her shoulders, and her eyes filled with worry. She bites her lip as their gazes meet.

"If I go to the rally and ruin it, you'll give me money for Santa Fe?" the young man clarifies and the young woman sadly bows her head at this news.

The newspaper tycoon plants his hands on the desk and rises to his feet, "I wouldn't give you a penny less than you need. Just leave this hopeless nuisance of a cause behind you and we're both free. You can live out your dreams and I can run my newspaper. It's a compromise we can all live with."

"Jack, don't!" the young woman tries but two bullies who just happen to be brothers approach her.

The young man, Jack, steps in their path,

"Leave her alone. I'll do it."

"And I'll be sure that you do," a spidery desk from his place besides the newspaper tycoon says cheerily, approaching Jack "And if you don't, you and all of your little friends will be coming home to the Refuge with me!"