Chapter Text
Wylan and Inej both froze, turning slowly to look behind them, at the source of the voice. Pekka was standing there, two men at his sides, one hand holding a gun in the air. “Hello Wraith.” he purred, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Come to rescue the little merchant? Tell me, did the other birdies tag along?” He didn't wait for a response before speaking again. “Oh, of course they did. Your sharpshooter, the Heartrender, the Fjerdan, and Brekker. All on a little rescue mission, isn’t that nice? Too bad I’m going to have to cut the heroic acts short.” He stepped forward, heaving thuds echoing across the ashen floors.
Inej bent her knees, brushing a hand over one of her knives. “You won’t win, Rollins.” she muttered, hoping that it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh, won’t I?” Pekka said with a laugh. “All I have to do is press a little button, and a dozen more of those bombs you saw earlier will rain hell on you and your Crows.” He waved a device around the air with his free hand. “See this little thing? Fabricator made, just for me.”
Coughing, Wylan shook his head. “He’s lying. I didn’t give him the plans yet, and I only made one bomb.” His body was shaking, his eyes brimmed with tears. Yet he tried to stand, stumbling out of the cupboard and onto the floor beside Inej. “He’s a liar. Just like he lied about having Jesper.”
Anger was building in the hall. “I did that for your own good, boy!” Pekka yelled, hand tightening around the gun. “I could have killed you the moment you finished those formulas!!”
Wylan let out a pained laugh. “You didn’t though, did you? Because you need me.”
“I don’t need you, boy.” Pekka spluttered.
“Yes you do.” Wylan said in response. “Not just for the bombs. You need me because I give you something to hold above my father's head. Because if you opened your mouth, his whole reputation would be sunk. I’m your leverage.”
“Your father wants you dead.”
“My father wants me dead and gone from the minds of anyone who ever knew I existed. He could care less what you do with me, as long as you keep your mouth shut.” Wylan began to pull himself off the floor slowly. “He’s willing to pay anything to keep it that way. If you threaten to talk, he’ll give you whatever you want.” He stood, staggering against the wall. “But here’s the thing about my father. If he finds out I get away? He’ll turn your life upside down.”
Pekka scoffed, but his hand was shaking. “You can’t get away if you're dead.” he said with a laugh. Wylan smirked.
“Kill me then. Shoot me, I dare you.” Wylan snapped, edging forward. “End it all right now.”
“Wylan.” Inej hissed sharply. “Wylan, what are you doing?”
Wylan didn’t respond to her. Instead, he continued to taunt Pekka, smirking as the tension in between them heated. “Come on, Rollins. Kill me. Get it over with.”
A gunshot rang out through the hall, and Inej flinched. But nothing happened, not for a moment anyway.
“Hey Inej?” Wylan whispered. “You might want to run.”
All at once, everything exploded from the barrel of the gun, sending smoke and flames up into the air. Pekka screamed as it happened, his skin burning from close impact. “What did you do, boy?”
A laugh left Wylans throat as Inej pulled him from the hall and down the stairs. “Science!” he cackled, willing every bone in his body to carry him out of the building.
They reached the bottom of the steps, where Matthias and Nima were standing. “What happened?” Matthias asked. Inej shook her head.
“We can explain later. Pick him up and carry him out of here!”
Matthias did so, hauling Wylan over his shoulder and out the back door. Kaz glared at them as they landed on the street.
“Let’s not have any funerals.” Was all he said before heading out into an alleyway. Jesper was waiting there, pacing nervously around.
His head snapped toward them. “Oh my Saints.” he muttered as his eyes fell on Wylans soot-covered flesh, on his arm that was burnt to the bone. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
Kaz tapped his cane on the ground. “He will be if we get back to the Slat. Inej, make sure no one follows us. Jesper, Nina, stand beside Matthias as he carries Wylan. Don’t let anyone get to him.”
He started down the busy streets, pushing past the crowds of people all flocking toward the smoking building. The others followed him closely, Inej darting off at some point.
As they walked, Jesper looked at Wylan. He tried to stay focused on his steps, on the people around him, but his eyes kept darting back toward his boyfriend. The ginger was struggling to keep his eyes open, groaning every time the wind hit his arm wrong. It was a horrid sight, one that made Jespers stomach flip.
Eventually, they made it back to the Slat, carrying Wylan up to the room he shared with Jesper. He coughed as his back hit the bed, throwing his head back in pain.
“Are we safe?” he asked, his voice coated with worry. “Is Jesper safe?”
Jesper's breath caught in his throat, and he sat down beside Wylan. “Saints, merchling. Your arm looks like it’s going to fall off, and you’re worried about me?”
A smile spread over Wylans face. “Yeah. I thought you were going to die. He told me he had you.” Tears formed in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to die. I love you.”
“I love you too, Merchling.” Jesper said, stroking his hand over Wylans soot covered forehead.
Wylans eyes scrunched up. “No. Not Merchling.” he huffed. Jesper laughed.
“I love you, Wylan.” he said, and the boy grinned. leaning into his gentle touch.
Nina stepped forward quietly. “As much as I love this little reunion, I need to fix him up.” she said, and Jesper nodded, moving to the side. As Nina tended to Wylans arm, Jesper watched anxiously. He knew she wasn’t a healer, but she was strong nonetheless, and he trusted her. He just hoped that she could do it in time.
Ever so slowly, the wound began to heal, fleshing forming back together and burnt skin returning to its normal shade. After Nina did the best she could, she wrapped the wound in bandages.
“Just let him heal.” she said, taking Jespers hand. “And bathe him, he needs to be rid of all the filth in case it infects any smaller wounds.” Then she left, leaving Jesper and Wylan alone.
Jesper ran the bath, adjusting the temperature so that it was just right. He walked toward the bed, smiling softly as he made eye contact with Wylan. “Hey.” he whispered. “Are you okay with me cleaning you up?” Wylan let out a little grunt of approval and Jesper lifted him, slowly walking him to the bathroom and ridding him of his clothes. He bathed him, letting the soap wash away the filth, and hopefully, the haunting memories too. After the bath he dried him and clothed him once more, this time in something clean and soft, and he brought him back into bed. All of this happened in comfortable silence, Wylan drifting in and out of sleep as Jesper just watched him, making sure he was okay. It wasn’t until they both lied down under the warmth of the covers that either of them said anything.
“Jes?” Wylan muttered, his stomach rising and falling with his deep breaths. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was the past few days, thinking I was going to lose you.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen, love.” Jesper whispered back. He hoped Wylan could hear the admittance in his voice that he too had been the most fear stricken than ever before.
Wylan sighed. “But what if it did? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His hand found Jespers under the sheet, fingers locking together. “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
“You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”
Wylan smiled as the sun shone through the window of the Slat, into the bedroom he shared with Jesper. He let out a heavy breath, glad to be back somewhere familiar, somewhere safe.
Reaching out a hand, he searched for the warmth of Jesper’s body beside him. But his fingers only glazed over the cool mattress, leaving him grasping at the sheets with panic.
“Jesper?” He called out, sitting upwards. Pain shot through his arm, reminding him of the night before. “Jes, where are you?”
He got no response, only the empty echoes of his screams bouncing against the thin walls.
“Saints, Jes. Please tell me this isn’t a joke.” He stood, wandering around the barely lit room. “Jesper Fahey! Jesper, please. Where are you?”
“He’s gone, Wylan.” A voice said from the hall. It was all too familiar, punching him in the gut with each word. “Did you really think he would stay with someone like you? A worthless little kid who can’t even read?”
Wylan clenched his fists at his side, inching toward the door. “That’s not true. He doesn’t- he doesn’t care about that!”
His father laughed. “Please. Even if he didn’t, why would he want to have to come to your rescue every time you tripped over your own feet? You’re useless, Wylan. Just an inconvenience. No one would ever stay with you, not unless it was out of pity. People pity you, they don’t love you.”
“What did you do with him? What did you do?” Wylan screamed, flinging the door open. But the other side was empty. His fathers laughs echoed across the dark abyss that the building has become.
“I didn’t do anything. You did.”
Collapsing, Wylan searched through the darkness, hoping he would find something, anything. But all that stared back at him was his own reflection in a puddle of tears.
“Jesper.” he pleaded through heavy sobs. “Jesper, come back.”
“Wylan?”
“Wylan! Wylan, wake up!”
Wylan jolted awake, gasping as a hand fell onto his arm. His eyes were wet with tears, his body painted with a thin layer of sweat.
He was in his room, moonlight breaking through the window, sounds of the streets from below drifting in between the cracks of The Slat. Jesper was by his side, fingers gripping into the bandages that covered his skin.
“Ow, Jesper!” he said, jerking away. Jesper shot him an apologetic look. As the pain faded, realization set in. “Saints. Saints, Jes, you're still here.”
Pressing his lips together, Jesper nodded. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Merchling. I’m right here. It was just a bad dream.” he reassured, and Wylan rushed toward him, burying his head in Jespers warm skin.
He choked on heavy sobs, steadying himself in the rhythm of Jespers rising and falling chest. “What if he gets to you?”
Jesper sighed. “Kaz won’t let him. I won’t let him. I promise.”
Letting out a shaky breath, Wylan finally relaxed. “I’m here.” he said to himself. “It was just a dream.”
“That it was, Merchling. That it was.” Jesper pulled him impossibly close, tracing a finger over the bone of his chin. “Now, let’s try to sleep again. You need rest.”
“Can you-” Wylan began, blushing at his request, “can you tell me a story?” He felt Jesper freeze beside him. “Sorry, that was weird. Just forget about it.”
“No!” Jesper yelped. “No, I'll tell you a story. What, uh, what kind of story?”
Wylan let his head fall back, pressing partly into the pillows and partly into Jespers arm. “Something happy.” he decided. “Something nice.”
He could feel Jespers face relax into a smile. “I can do that. Let’s see; something happy. Well, there once was a boy, a rather tall, handsome boy if I do say so myself-”
“Is this story about you?”
“Hush, Wy. Don’t interrupt the scene. Now, this boy grew up on a farm with his parents. His Ma was a lovely woman, strong and powerful and kind. His Da was the same, hardworking, and rarely ever upset. But this boy wanted more than life on the farm. He wanted something greater, something far more thrilling.”
Wylan laughed. “Thrilling as in dangerous?”
“This is supposed to be putting you to sleep!” Jesper complained.
“Sorry, sorry. Go on, I’m enjoying it.” said Wylan.
Jesper cleared his throat, launching into the story once more. “So, this boy left his farm in search of higher education. Some things went, well, wrong in that area, and he ended up with a boy called Dirtyhands. But we can skip ahead a little bit. Let’s say… we skip to when this boy found something far greater than the chaos of the Barrel streets. To when a little curly haired boy stumbled into his life and lit it up like an explosive.” He took a breath, pulling Wylan closer.
“And he decided he would do anything to keep this boy in his life. No matter what it took. No matter how much it cost. Because this boy was worth more than he could ever imagine. And nothing would take him away, not on the handsome boy’s watch.”
“Stop referring to yourself as ‘the handsome boy’, Jes.”
“Never. Now close your eyes, please. I’m almost finished.”
Obeying, Wylan let his eyes flutter shut, losing himself completely in the lull of Jespers voice. He let the sounds of the story mix with the steady rise and fall of Jespers chest, and with the faint noise of the Dregs downstairs.
“These boys loved each other. And they would never be apart. Not if either of them could help it. The end.” Jesper finished with a sigh, leaning into Wylan and kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, Wylan.”
“Love you too, Jes.” Wylan responded. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, my love.”
-
Across Ketterdam, in the quiet of The Geldstraat, Jan Van Eck was removed from his home on suspicion of attempted murder, blackmail, and multiple charges involving neglection of tax paying and embezzlement of funds. Evidence was brought to the authorities in a large black envelope, signed only with the marking of a feather. He is currently awaiting trial, where his son will stand witness.
But that is a story for another time.