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"I just don't understand why the factory has to be built on my turf. I need that stretch of land!"
"Hah! For what, another superfluous brothel? People go to Bernadette's Ruby Rose to get off, not those bedraggled cesspools of yours."
Snap.
"Why don't you sacrifice some territory then, old man?"
"Because there's already a factory on my grounds, harlot. Having two so close together is foolish in this climate."
Snap.
"This has been going on for hours; will you stop bickering already?!"
"Gob it, dotard!"
Snap!
Silco's fingers hold the glimmering cigar in his hand ever tighter as he presses it against his lips, pulling thick smoke into his mouth and leaning further into the back of his cushioned chair before exhaling. Seconds agonisingly tick by as mismatched eyes flicker from the swirling cigar smoke to the five chem-barons seated around the grand stone table. His left leg twitches beneath the slate with every incessant flick of Finn's storm lighter; amazingly going unnoticed by either of them as they continue to argue. With a hand in his hair to smooth it back, Silco eventually rises to a standing position, his eyes remain focused on the ashtray in front of him in thought. As he's mentally preparing to give a lecture to what he once thought competent henchmen, the enormous double doors to the meeting room screech under the strain of being pushed open.
The person stumbling into the room is Ran, one of his more loyal followers. They've never been one for tact, though. Silco lowers his gaze towards his intruding underling, a reprimand already burning on the tip of his tongue but as he notices their wide-eyed frantic gaze, he pauses. Their eyes flicker between him and the elevator. Short strands of pitch-black hair whip around Ran's head with every jerky movement. It quickly dawns on Silco and he fails to suppress a dry swallow.
Now, of all time?!
Silco takes a deliberately slow breath before leaning his hands against the table.
He looks at the chem-barons one after another while he speaks, "Considering how none of you can come to a consensus, this meeting will be adjourned until further notice. I think we can all agree our time is far too valuable for childish squabbling."
Sevika, who's been standing behind his chair the entire time whilst this farce of an assembly has been going on, fixes everyone about to open their mouth with a glare, effectively nipping any objections in the bud.
Pushing his chair back, Silco turns on his heel and steps away from the table. Every step is composed and taken without haste whilst he and his employees enter the elevator in silence, and he looks at no one in particular as the doors close with a sharp hiss. Only the still-burning cigar carelessly being left behind beside the ashtray is the only thing betraying his mental composure.
The ride down the elevator feels endless. Rain pelts against the glass front but even that seems muffled by the tension surrounding Silco. Sevika and Ran stand behind their boss, neither challenging the silence as Sevika notes that the whites of his knuckles are showing and his breaths, whilst deep, are quicker than normal. This silence carries after they leave the elevator to Silco's private carriage, both goons avoiding meeting his gaze as his make-up melts from the exposure to the downpour outside. As the carriage engine springs to life with a hiss and a lurch, Silco remains lost in his thoughts as the three leave without a word.
"Aren't you excited?"
Silco can hear her voice clearly in his head, recalling the moment she laced his heart with barbed wire as she confessed to carrying his child. His reply had been as cold as his hands are now.
"However you want to deal with this, I won't stand in your way."
While it came as no surprise to him, her irrevocable desire to keep it had filled the coming months with headaches and sleepless nights. A child complicated everything. Each week that went by his workload had increased. And although he wasn't known for taking the easy way out, just this once he might've preferred it. It would have saved him a lot of time. A lot of money. It would have halved the number of fights they had since then. Probably.
Be that as it may, to this day he is a man of his word and despite distance growing between the two of them, he had spared no expense and accommodated her as best he could. But Silco can't bring himself to be excited when all he feels looking at that swollen belly is fear.
Fear of complications.
Fear of failure.
Fear of solitude.
It's an open secret that births within the Undercity are complicated at best and deadly at worst. Fissurefolk newborns tend to be bigger and the lack of proper medical care and filtration systems pose a risk for anyone in a vulnerable state. He vaguely remembers his father telling him that his own mother had succumbed to childbirth. Despite being a particularly small babe, an untreated infection on top of utter exhaustion was more than the woman could handle.
As the carriage comes to a halt right in front of The Last Drop, Silco regrets thinking about what he'll do if he loses one of the few important people in his life because of something that could have easily been avoided.
Sevika and Ran trail behind him as he enters the bar; it's still early and only a few patrons are around, scattered across different booths with deep frowns etched onto their faces. Sevika's low voice reaches him in what sounds like support, but now that he's here he refuses to wait another second before facing his new reality, however cruel it may be. His eyes are fixated on the spiral staircase whilst his hand lifts in dismissal towards his second-in-command. Silco takes the stairs two steps at a time. He can feel his knees shaking and holds onto the handrail just in case. It's only now that he notices how clammy his grip is and he tries to wipe some of the sweat on his pants--without success.
Disturbing silence greets him like an old rival--unwelcome at the best of times but now utterly nerve-racking--as he stares down the long, dimly lit hallway. No screaming. He shouldn't want her to be in pain, but he dryly swallows back the lump in his throat as the implication of the quiet sinks in. Unsure steps lead him down the hall. His good eye closes for a moment. The vice around his heart tightens. He reaches for the doorknob with a shaking hand. Steeling himself for the unmistakable smell of blood and disease and ultimately death, Silco opens the door with a rough tug and steps inside.
The sight he's met with takes his breath away.
She's lying in his--no, their--bed, strands of hair soaked with sweat sticking to her skin, but she's breathing and smiling down towards a tiny bundle within her arms. It's a tired but radiant kind of smile and he's elated to notice that there's no smell of decay or infection. The atmosphere of the room is warm and welcoming and alive, but Silco feels utterly useless and out of place.
His legs won't move and his fists clench and unclench at his sides, trying to force warmth back into them. He only closes his mouth and dares to blink when she lifts her head and looks at him.
"Silco..."
Her voice is fragile and the uncertainty lying underneath her tone makes him angry. Angry at himself for sowing that seed of doubt in her. His mind is bursting with things he wants to say to make amends, but on the back of the breath that he didn't know he was holding, the only words out of his mouth are:
"Where's Jinx?"
Her gaze flickers to the dark floorboards he's standing on and he wants to scold himself. But soon enough she's looking up again, a softness in her eyes as if she knows what's going on inside of him. He never understood how she could be this forgiving.
"She said she needed to build him his very own first gun. I do hope she means a toy."
Silco's tongue feels like lead in his mouth as he rasps, "Him...?"
Without him noticing, he's suddenly standing next to her beside the bed, waiting for... something.
"Do you want to meet your son?" she asks warmly.
He's helpless. He's been confronted with a multitude of grave choices in his life but never has a decision felt as difficult as it does at this moment.
Giving up on trying to speak, he just swallows and reaches out cautiously. He's painfully aware of how each movement is hesitant and unpracticed. It's been a while since he encountered something completely foreign to him and he's unsure how to feel about this.
She's propping herself up against the mountain of pillows behind her and he notices her wince, but his jaw feels like it's wired shut and he stays silent.
Giving quiet but encouraging instructions, she passes the bundle he's been so afraid of into his arms. He holds it just so as to hide the left side of his face. Blinking slowly, Silco finally finds the fortitude to gaze down and immediately forgets how to breathe.
Blue eyes--his blue eyes--framed by a tiny wrinkled face look right back at him. A tuft of dark hair peeks out of the blanket wrapped lovingly around what he's sure will be his undoing. It's then that he realises; all the hardships in his life--the pain of being exploited in the mines, of nearly drowning by his brother's hand, losing both his family and his eye--have all been worth it if it meant arriving at this exact moment. It's perfect. He's perfect.
"He's so small..." he murmurs with a shaking voice.
One hand is enough for Silco to carefully cradle the little head while the other lifts up to try and stroke over the soft locks when suddenly a tiny hand reaches for one of his fingers and grabs onto it tightly. A short gasp leaves him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open.
"Strong."
He playfully tries to pull his finger away but to no avail. Enthralled, he turns his head slightly and leans down. The thought of potentially scaring his child with the sight of his mangled face comes too late, but before he can react, his son possessively takes hold of the tip of his nose. Big inquisitive eyes scan his face with nothing but curiosity and wonder.
A warm chuckle leaves him as he nuzzles into the tiny hand.
"That's my boy."
Without moving his head his gaze snaps up when he hears the sound of a sob. She's been watching them, it appears. And while the tears don't seem to stop there's a wide, wobbly smile on her face. The love for both her and his son is overwhelming and his own eyes start to sting. He looks to the side, set on regaining his composure before uttering what he's been trying to say for months now.
"I'm sorry."
He prays to whatever deity might still hear someone as wretched as him that she accepts his pathetic but honest apology. Remembering the pain and heartache he caused them both by inwardly preparing to lose her is something he will never forgive himself for.
And like the blessing she is, she nods and laughs at his antics.
"I'm- I'm just so happy."
Silco settles down on the edge of the bed and carefully leans over to press the gentlest of kisses to her temple. His breath is warm and his voice is soft as he whispers, "As am I, darling. As am I."