Work Text:
THEN
Rhys freezes, the grip on his wand going slack as his eyes widen at the sight of just who had stepped out of the darkened hallway.
It’s Vaughn.
Vaughn with his green glasses and patch of hair on his chin, a stack of parchment in his arms. Vaughn, whom Rhys hasn’t seen since the summer after graduation. Vaughn who is-- was --his best friend.
This was supposed to be a quiet operation: break into the Ministry’s Records Hall for...Rhys isn’t entirely sure what. Names, if he were to wager a guess, but as for why...he doesn’t know. He’s new, has only been with Jack for less than a year and still has ‘ his training wheels on ,’ as Jack had put it. It makes sense that Jack doesn’t tell him the nitty gritty details of every mission, but Rhys had been--disappointed, to say the least, when Jack had shut him out of his office while he spoke to Nisha.
It’s only the three of them at the Ministry and Jack and Nisha are busy sifting through files, hundreds upon hundreds of parchment papers shuffling through the air at the command of their wands. Jack had told Rhys to stand watch, to deal with anyone who came down this way.
“This is important ,” Jack had said. “ If we’re caught, we’re gonna have a hell of a time getting in again. So you’re gonna make sure that doesn’t happen. Got it, buttercup? ”
Rhys had nodded, always eager for an opportunity to prove himself to Jack, to do anything he could to see that Jack succeeds.
He’d had his wand at the ready when he heard footsteps echoing down the dark hallway, getting closer. Rhys was prepared to deal with the Ministry worker who’d wandered into the Records Hall at the wrong time, a spell already tingling on his lips.
But it’s not a no-name Ministry worker, and Rhys finds that he’s not prepared for this at all.
Rhys can’t move, frozen stock-still in the doorway, a blockade between Vaughn and Jack.
“...Rhys?” Vaughn says, voice barely a whisper. He halts midstep, face pale, like he’s seen a ghost. Rhys can see the whites of his eyes.
Rhys wants to tell him to run, to get away from here as fast as he can--
“Rhys! Deal with him!” Jack’s voice is demanding, ringing in Rhys’ ears, making Rhys jump. He hears a flurry of movement behind him, files scattering haphazardly. They need to leave, now , before the alarm sounds and Aurors storm the Hall. Rhys tightens the grip on his wand and raises it at Vaughn, mind paging through curses like a flipbook.
It’s hard to focus, to find a spell that won’t hurt Vaughn; Rhys doesn’t want to hurt Vaughn. He doesn’t know if he even can. They’ve known each other too long--and maybe they haven’t spoken in a few years but there’s something unmistakable about the way his chest tightens when he looks at Vaughn’s face.
Vaughn’s eyes dart from Rhys’, to somewhere behind him, hardening into something other than surprise. He starts to mutter something, so quietly Rhys can’t even hear it. A spell, probably, and Rhys should--he should do something, should stop him. He still can’t move, can’t bring himself to fire off a spell.
A rough elbow hits him in the ribs and Rhys yelps as he’s shoved aside. Nisha’s already got her wand out, and she curses Vaughn as easily as Rhys should have been able to. Vaughn goes rigid, expression freezing in place as he falls backwards. Rhys can hear his blood pounding in his ears--at least she’d only paralyzed him and nothing more severe.
It’s too little too late--the alarm starts to blare, and there’s shouting from down the hall, the lights all blinking to life. Fingers dig into Rhys’ shoulder, sharp and painful--but he can’t tear his eyes away from Vaughn until he’s forced to disapparate. Rhys clenches his eyes shut, gritting his teeth at the sudden pressure on his skull, the air being forced from his lungs.
In an instant, they’re back at the rendezvous point: the foggy bank of a small river out in the country, hundreds of miles from civilization. Rhys stumbles when his feet hit solid ground again--he still hasn’t gotten used to apparation, and it always leaves him dizzy and just a little nauseous.
Hands clutch at his collar and he’s yanked up until he’s almost nose to nose with Nisha’s snarling face. “What the fuck was that?!” She hisses, eyebrows drawn together severely, her teeth bared like a wild dog. Nisha shakes him. “You trying to get us caught?!”
“No--I--” Rhys tries to speak, vision still swimming.
“I should kill you right now!” Nisha yells. Rhys swallows when he feels the press of her wand against his throat, threatening. He doesn’t dare try to pull away from it, but he blinks, tries to come back to himself and look her in the eye.
“Nisha.” Jack’s voice cuts through the tense air, firm and authoritative.
Nisha narrows her eyes, and after a moment she shoves Rhys away. He loses his footing on the slippery bank and his ass hits the sand. His cheeks burn as he scrambles to get back to his feet. This is the angriest he’s ever seen Nisha--she isn’t even laughing at him for falling. When Rhys stands again, he keeps his eyes on the ground, unable to meet Jack or Nisha’s eyes.
“Your little boy toy just lost us half those files,” he hears Nisha growl.
“We’ll deal with it,” Jack says. “Go meet with Vasquez and Moreau.” Nisha curses, and then there’s a crack and when Rhys glances up, Nisha is gone. Jack is still there, broad shoulders tense, his mouth a thin line, eyes dark when he looks at Rhys.
Rhys swallows and tucks his wand away before lifting his chin. He fucked up. He fucked up and he’s going to take whatever punishment Jack wants to dish out with dignity. Jack steps up to him in even strides, and Rhys has to fight the urge to take a step back, away from him. He’s seen Jack punish people before. Jack’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder, and Rhys does his best to keep his knees from shaking as he meets Jack’s eyes.
They apparate back to Jack’s place, into the middle of his office. It’s dim, lit only by the green-flamed braziers that line the wall. Jack’s hand on Rhys’ shoulder tightens, and Rhys is forced to sit in the rickety chair in front of the desk. He curls his fingers into the armrests and looks up at Jack from under his lashes, trying to school his face into something neutral.
Rhys has seen Jack kill for less than what he’d had done tonight. He can only hope Jack will allow him a chance to explain himself.
“Handsome Jack.” Rhys starts with his full title, knowing just how thin the ice he’s treading is. He tries to keep the tremor from his voice. “Sir. I…”
Jack sighs heavily and leans his weight against the side of his desk, one hand massaging his temple. “Rhys, Rhys...Rhys. Why don’t we start with just what the hell happened back there, kiddo. Thought I could trust you.”
“You can!” Rhys says, a little too loudly, an edge of the panic that’s clenching his gut bleeding in. He’s never been on the wrong side of Jack’s anger, has never failed him before. Jack hasn’t even done anything to him yet and Rhys is already desperate to get back on his good side.
“I gave you an order,” Jack says sharply. “You didn’t follow it.”
Rhys can feel his face getting hot under Jack’s scrutiny. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“What. Happened.”
“I…” Rhys holds Jack’s gaze. There’s no use in lying. Jack would be able to tell--and the thought of lying to Jack makes Rhys feel sick, even more so than apparating twice in so many minutes. “The man at the Ministry. I knew him. He was a - a friend from school. My best friend. I couldn’t…” He feels shame well up inside him as he admits it; admits that he couldn’t follow Jack’s orders. “I couldn’t hurt him. I just--froze up. I’m sorry.”
“That,” Jack says, stepping away from his desk to crowd into Rhys’ space. He plants his hands on the armrests, fingers warm against Rhys’ arms. “Is some loyalty, kiddo.” His eyes are sharp, burning a hole straight through Rhys. “I’m hurt sweetheart, really. You said there was no one else . I don’t like being lied to. Did you know this friend of yours would be working tonight?”
“No! I had no idea, I swear. I haven’t seen him since graduation. I didn’t even know he worked at the Ministry,” Rhys says, tongue heavy in his mouth. He can’t have Jack thinking he’d sell him out, that anyone was more important than him to Rhys. “I would--” The words get caught in his throat, vicious with sincerity. “I would never do anything to betray your trust. I was just surprised is all. I didn’t mean--Jack, please .”
“Hey, shh, shh,” Jack cups Rhys’ jaw. Rhys’ heart jumps in his chest at the gentle touch as he stares up into mismatched eyes. “I’m not mad, Rhysie.”
Rhys feels a flicker of relief.
“I’m just disappointed.”
As quickly as it came, the relief rushes out of him again and Rhys’ heart goes cold, his shoulders tensing. Disappointed. The world stops before his eyes, hanging on that one word. He feels like he could sink straight through his chair, into Jack’s disappointment, so palpable he can almost taste it. It’s worse than Jack’s anger. At least Jack’s anger could be quelled, could be fixed. How is Rhys supposed to fix disappointed ? How is he supposed to stop Jack from looking at him like that ever again?
Jack glances up, somewhere behind Rhys, and he hears the loud click of the door lock sliding into place. Jack’s grip on his jaw tightens. “You know I have to punish you, don’t you sweetheart?”
Rhys winces under the harsh grip but nods.
“I need to make sure you’re telling me the truth, and you know I can’t have my followers disobeying me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jack reaches for his belt and pulls out his wand, aglow with a spell that Rhys is intimately familiar with. He smiles, the first one Rhys has seen all evening.
“I know you are.”