Archive of Our Own

'Vander, you can't be serious.'

'I wouldn't joke about something like that.'

Silco jumps to a lower pipe and squats down to get to Vander's eye level. He can tell he's in one of his obstinate moods just by the way he crosses his burly arms and looks away.

'They're children,' Silco insists. 'Not toys, not recruits, not—'

'I know.'

'Then why would you want them around?' he asks, his confusion bleeding into his voice. 'The peace is temporary, you know this as well as I do. Grayson caved because she's cornered, but we didn't scare them nearly enough. It'll only get uglier.'

'I know!' Vander exclaims, turning round to face Silco at last. He presses a massive hand against his chest as if to keep him from speaking any more about what's to come. 'I know. But that's why I can't help but feel like I owe them... I don't know, some hope?'

Silco cocks a derisive eyebrow. 'They're at the Hope Foundling House, so that's appropriate.'

'It's in the slums, right next to the Sump!'

'I know where it is,' Silco bites.

Vander sighs. He was born and raised in the Entresol, a whole world of privilege above Silco's youth in the Black Lanes, right next to the Hope Foundling house. Still, what's one layer of privilege, this deep in the trench? They both know. The lower you go, the shittier it gets. But you don't have to stay there, and Silco says so.

'The foundling house isn't forever. Vi's almost old enough to find work. You can help her and meddle, but adopting them, that's extreme!'

'I led the attack on the bridge!' Vander snaps, his fingers closing on Silco's shirt and yanking him from the pipe. 'I led Selene and Altan to their death!'

'They died for the cause!' Silco growls, digging his fingers into Vander's wrist. 'Let me down.'

Vander blinks, surprised by his own outburst. He lets him go with mumbled excuses, brushing his crumpled shirt. Silco lets it all slide. It isn't rare for Vander to get... overly excited when upset, and things have been particularly stressful in the past month.

'We've led many to their death, Vander. What makes those orphans different? Tell me. Talk to me.'

'I guess I feel like I owe them some happiness,' Vander explains, calmer now. 'Before the attack on the bridge I... Vi came to talk to me, at the Drop.'

'At the meeting?' Silco asks, frowning.

He does remember the girls being there, tagging along since both parents were attending.

'Yes.' Vander sighs and leans back against the wall. It's a tight fit in the maintenance tunnels they're navigating to return from their secret Piltover meeting with Grayson. 'She looked up at me with those big blue eyes of hers and asked me if it would all be over soon. If it was the last attack.'

Silco grimaces. 'What did you tell them?'

Given Piltover's reaction to the uprising, there were no optimistic answers to give a child. Or an adult.

'I told her I'd try my best. That it was the big push.'

'Well, you didn't lie.'

Vander shakes his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose like the memory is giving him a headache.

'They saw, at the bridge—'

'I know, I know.'

Silco had picked little Powder up, appalled that such a young child had managed to stumble on the battlefield—for that was the best term for the bridge, on that day—and only vaguely grateful that enforcers weren't so depraved as to shoot zaunite kids without provocation.

'We've been busy, fixing this mess, but now... Sil, they've been down there long enough.'

Silco would roll his eyes, but this is serious. He shimmies past Vander and goes to kick the latch of the exit hatch, grunting as he lifts it and opens the way out.

'Think about it a little longer,' he says, waving for Vander to go first.

'I have.' Vander's eyes have heavy bags under them, but they're clear, shining with simple honesty. 'I've been thinking about it ever since the bridge. We already have the two kids hanging around all the time, what's two more?'

'Mylo's got a mom to cook him meals and Claggor's father at least puts a roof over his head,' Silco protests. 'Just because they hang out at the Drop doesn't mean they're ours!'

'I think we could cook a little more every day, it wouldn't be too hard, would it?'

Silco snorts. 'You say that like I'm not the one doing most of the cooking.'

Vander smiles like Silco's just surrendered. 'Then I'll help.'

'What, cook?'

'And look after the girls.'

'Why do I feel like I'm being roped into this? All my earlier points still stand! Also, the Last Drop is mine, remember? Maybe I'll kick you out.'

Vander gives him a pitying look, like his bluff fell so short it was embarrassing.

'We don't have time to play dads,' Silco insists.

'Then let's be serious about it.'

Silco opens his mouth to protest and snaps it shut without finding the right words. Vander grins and jumps down the hatch, landing with a heavy thud below.

'Hey!' Silco calls after him. 'Conversation isn't over!'

'I think it is,' Vander calls back.

'It will just make our lives harder,' Silco grumbles, sitting on the rim.

Vander is there waiting for him, looking up. He waves for him to jump. 

'Come on.'

Silco scowls. He dislikes this part. The original ladder has long broken down and been dismantled, and it's a daunting drop. He grabs the hatch's handle and holds on to it as he slides into nothingness, slamming the hatch shut after him. When he lets go there's a gut wrenching moment of uncontrolled free fall, before Vander catches him.

'Look,' he says, putting Silco down on his feet. 'I'm taking the girls on. If you want to kick me out of the Last Drop, it's your prerogative.'

Silco looks up at him, his scowl still solidly in place. Vander's hands linger on his shoulders, pinning him there as if waiting for an answer.

'Of course I won't kick you out,' Silco says at last, looking away. 'I don't have the time and energy to look for an honest barman.'

Vander smiles at that. 'Yes, you could be looking forever. Janna forbids you pour the drinks.'

Silco shrugs him off and walks away. They're almost home, and the broken wall of the corridor they're in now opens on to scaffolding over Elma's Parlour. From here they can look across the whole of Bridgewaltz market and even see Jericho's. Silco wonders about stopping there on the way. He could use a bowl of spiced merlan after such an exhausting day, especially since it promises to be much longer.

'Are you pouting?' Vander asks, coming up behind him.

Silco doesn't grace that jab with an answer.

'Hey.' Vander nudges him, his enormous arm enveloping his shoulders and bringing him close. 'Sil, it's your turn to talk to me. Why are you so against the idea?'

Silco sighs and leans into his friend's side. At moments like this it's all too easy to simply close his eyes and let himself drift. There's so little of him, and so much of Vander, it's like he could sink into him and never resurface.

'Sil?'

'I don't have a lot of room for sympathy, and you know it,' he answers, opening his eyes and looking over the bright lights of the boisterous market below.

There's a hundred signs in dozens of colours, flashing to attract attention. Customers flow between stalls, stopping to eat or browse. There's strangers from far away lands, zaunites in striped and patchworked clothes, even some adventurous pilties, their faces glinting with fancy rebreathers. The blockade has made those particular visitors scarcer than usual, and Bridgewaltz is emptier tonight than Silco has seen it in a long time.

'It's hard work, running this movement,' he continues. 'We're supposed to fight for all the sons and daughters of Zaun, not two in particular. I'm the one who enlisted Selene, I understand you feel guilty, I just...' He glances up and looks away when he finds Vander staring down at him. 'I don't want your attention to be divided. I don't want to fight this fight alone.'

Vander's chest rumbles with a low chuckle and Silco wishes he were anywhere else.

'I wouldn't leave you.'

'I hope not.'

'No, Sil, I mean it.' Vander takes a step aside, holding him at arm's length, looking him in the eyes. 'I'm not abandoning you, or the cause.'

Silco grits his teeth. There's precious little remaining of their dream of a free Nation of Zaun today. It eats him up that they've brokered peace, even if only to lick their wounds and regroup.

'I know you hated doing this,' Vander says as if reading his mind, 'making a deal with the new sheriff, giving the chembarons what they've been asking for... I get it. But this isn't me giving up or retiring. I'm not settling down and leaving you behind, I'm not even going anywhere, if you'll let me stay.'

Silco gives in then, sagging under Vander's grip, the fight draining out of him. He's tired, and he wants to believe Vander so badly. If adopting the kids will make him happy and not compromise their work together then why not? It doesn't seem like he has much of a choice in the matter anyway, and Vander is being so... earnest.

'Of course you can stay at the Drop with them,' Silco says. 'I wouldn't trust you to take them anywhere else. You're such a disaster of a man, how can you think taking on two girls can possibly be a good idea?'

Vander laughs and slaps his back.

'Good. Let's grab something to eat first, then I'll go get them. I was thinking we should hit Jericho's.'

'I was thinking the same,' Silco agrees as he steps out onto the scaffolding.

Vander gives his shoulder a squeeze before grabbing a metal pole and stepping into the void. They make their way down, shimmying from bar to pole to gutter, in their element again.

Vander takes on a deep breath as they hit the floor.

'Good to be home,' he declares, arms akimbo and turning to grin at Silco. 'Now this meal's on me.'

'Incredible,' Silco deadpans.

Considering how often he feeds Vander, this meal is really still on him.

'Don't frown, Sil. You've got nothing to be afraid of. You'll be a great father.'

Silco gapes at Vander's retreating back, eyes bulging out of his head.

'Wh—' he chokes on his words, but Vander isn't slowing down or paying attention. 'Hey! Vander! What the fuck did you just say?'

'Come on!'

'No, answer me,' Silco yells, running after him. 'Vander! What the fuck did you even mean? Vander!'

But his friend only laughs.