Oscar watched as Jack and Race gently rested Morris on one of the empty bunks, his stomach twisting as Morris let out a small whimper of pain. When the two newsies backed away he quickly rushed to his brother's side, grabbing his hand and watching him closely, as if to see if he was still breathing or not. Morris stirred weakly and Oscar squeezed his hand gently, watching as his older brother relaxed slightly. Specs came running in minutes later, followed by a tall old man, still dressed in his night clothes and carrying a brown leather case.

"I got Dr. Skelton! How is-" Specs stopped short when as his eyes fell on Morris' pale, seemingly tiny figure lying stretched out on the bed. He glanced up and down, his eyes resting on the punctured portion of the shirt. Saying nothing, he gestured to Morris for the doctor to see. Dr. Skelton hummed before setting his case on the small wooden shelf attached loosely to the drab walls. He opened the case and Oscar stomach churned. There were all sort of surgical tools. Knives, scissors, saws (those made all of the room's occupants shudder), some needles, thread, and, in a second compartment, different types of medicines.

"I suggest you all leave this isn't going to be a pleasant business," Dr. Skelton said firmly. Morris' grip tightened on his brother's hand and Oscar could tell he was afraid, even though he didn't show it. "Please, sir, can I stay? He's my brotha, see, and I don't want him to get scared or nothin'," Oscar said quickly, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging. Dr. Skelton, set firmly in his ways, shook his head and gestured to the door.

"This boy is on the brink of death! If I want to get anything done or help him at all, I can't have distractions! Now please, leave!" Dr. Skelton said with a sigh, although there was a hint of regret in his tone. Morris looked up at Oscar fearfully, but forced a smile on his face like he usually did when his younger brother was around, and nodded. Oscar's brow furrowed and he gave Morris' hand one last squeeze before hesitantly letting go. As the door closed behind them, Oscar saw the doctor give Morris a wooden spoon to bite down on before selecting a piece of cloth and some medicine. Oscar collapsed against the wall, groaning softly and sliding down to the floor. Jack, Crutchie, Race, and Specs hovered around him hesitantly, not really knowing what to do.

"I can't lose him," Oscar suddenly rasped, catching all of the boys' attention. "You won't. I mean, even if he dies, you'll neva really-" Jack started.

"No, ya don't understand! I can't. Lose. Him," Oscar said, his tone almost menacing. His voice was pained, matching the mood of his eyes. Specs' face softened in slight understanding at he sat down next to Oscar, which was quite the sight, considering it had been just hours before that Oscar had taken him down for a couple of dollars. Tears started to gather in Oscar eyes and he quickly brushed them away, shaking his head slowly. They didn't understand, even if they thought they didn't. For some odd reason, Oscar wanted to make the newsies understand; they'd all been enemies for so long that they never realized how much the Delancey brothers were hiding...

"The two of us... It's just been us eva since our ma died. Pa was a great man, a great fatha, but when ma died he just broke. He was beatin' us, and neglectin' us on betta days. Morris always took the worst of the beatings. He said he didn't want me ta hurt," Oscar started in a low voice, his lip already beginning to quiver. The other four teenagers were shocked, but stayed silent to allow Oscar to continue. Oscar sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Pa was always drunk when he came home. He was always hurtin' us. And then when he was sober again, he'd break down cryin' and tell us he was so sorry and that he'd neva hurt us again. It was all lies. We knew it, too, but we was too stupid to try 'n get away. One day Pa beat Morris so bad he just lay there... he couldn't get up or nothin'... he was hurtin' so much he couldn't move." Oscar was starting to choke up, stumbling over his words and whimpering or taking a shuddery breath. Specs face paled; the other newsies knew why. Most of them could relate to a story like Oscar's.

"So we ran. We ran as far away from that small little town as we could. We was headin' toward New York City to make our lives betta, and nothin' was gonna stop us. We was seven and eight at the time, real young, but we did it. We got here, and Wiesel found us." Oscar stopped and his eyes closed, his face twisting as if he had just smelled something nasty. "We've been workin' for him eva since, and we's always hated it." Jack's expression was solemn, Crutchie looked like he was going to throw up, Race's cigar had fallen out of his mouth because it was open so wide in shock, and Specs had that same sympathetic, understanding look in his eyes that he had in the beginning.

"I know what you're going through. Somewhat," Specs murmured. Oscar's eyes widened and he leaped to his feet, actually beginning to tremble with rage as his eyes ran over the four newsies. They rested on Specs and his lips curled up into a snarl. "You don't understand nothin'! You have somethin' ta call yours, all of you do! Even if it's somethin' simple, like the bond you all have or small little trinkets. You even gots pictures, some of ya, and do y'know what I've got?!" Specs shook his head quickly, starting to tremble with fear. Oscar was tearing up again, all anger gone, and he hung his head.

"Morris." Specs gave Oscar a confused look and he smiled dryly. "You all have somethin' to calls yours, somethin' to put your name to. All I've got is Morris," Oscar said softly. Realization dawned on each of their faces and Specs started to say something, an apology maybe, but Oscar stopped him with the sad look in his eyes. As tears began to swell and slowly trickle down, Oscar said, "He's all I've got. I don't know what I'd do without him."