Chapter Text
OCTOBER 31, Pt. 1
Five .
The total number of days it’s been since you woke up in the hospital, and haven’t heard from Silco.
Four.
The number of hours you’d spent getting interviewed by Officer Kiramman and Marcus regarding the events that occurred prior to and during your kidnapping.
Three.
The number of times they asked you to repeat your story, for the record, and the same number of times you asked them what happened to Silco.
(And they didn’t tell you, for the record).
Two.
The exact number of minutes you can last without wondering what happened to him.
One.
Hour until you have to leave the house and go meet your parents for dinner.
You heave a deep sigh.
Time often snaps like a rubber band. One moment it's stretching beyond capacity, slow, dragging, tense. The next it snaps, and you’re flying into the future. Right now, at this moment, the rubber band is still being pulled back. But you’re waiting impatiently for the snap.
Music hums quietly in the bathroom as you stare at yourself in the mirror, distracted momentarily from applying your eyeliner.
This is not how you imagined spending Halloween night.
This entire month was not how you imagined you’d spend the Halloween season: becoming the manager of The Last Drip, falling in love, getting kidnapped and embroiled in dangerous plots.
Most of all, you didn’t imagine you would have been left this long without having any news about Silco.
Honestly though, Jinx had given you a few ideas, but they weren’t very comforting.
She’d popped in for a few moments the first day you’d woken up at the hospital. You were still a little out of it at the time, but she was crying and begging you for forgiveness. You didn’t see what you needed to forgive her for considering it wasn’t her idea to use you as bait in the first place (and she wasn’t the one who chased you down in a clown costume or tied you to a chair). But you’d given her all the assurance you could muster that you didn’t blame her.
So after a long, tearful hug she’d given you a kind of Spisak life update.
That Sevika was in jail, and Silco was in his own room in the hospital, recovering.
This of course had lead to two serious questions:
In jail for what?
Recovering from what?
You hadn’t gotten the chance to ask before she’d bounced out the door.
You finish painting on your liner and let out your braids. Your hair falls in damp ripples to your shoulders, and you spend a moment pumping hair product into your palm before massaging it into the tips.
You had a feeling every other visitor you had while hospitalized– Thomas and his son, Cal, and even your family – knew something about it, but they refused to share any more information. Ekko had given you an extremely heartfelt apology, but it was clear he was forbidden to answer any of your questions. There was a glint in his eye that told you he wanted to, though.
Thomas, at least, had given you some details to fill in the information gaps – like what you were being held for ransom for in the first place.
He claimed that it was Renni who was the originator of the scheme, but that over time the enterprise had been taken over almost entirely by Finn. Almost half the board ended up getting involved, along with some of Silco’s more disgruntled employees, and school faculty.
“The lab you were stashed in was set up under an old bank building in Downtown Zaun. It was bought a few years ago by Chross, and has been ‘ awaiting proper licenses to be converted into an arcade. Apparently Renni talked to him while he was still signing all the papers, promising him a lot of money to stall construction for a few years so she could do her concocting in private. Her goal was to help her son, who was having major behavioral issues due to schizophrenia. She was attempting to create some kind of cure. And the amazing part was, she actually did.”
Thomas shared that it was during her dabbling that she’d also recognized the potential for cococting other kinds of “cures”. But by then her money had run out, and she'd been unable to get any kind of financial backing. How Finn got involved isn’t exactly clear, except that he happened to have a lot of money, and a grudge against Silco a mile wide. Anything that had the potential to bring chaos into his world was well worth the investment.
“And the money he would make off of it wouldn’t hurt, either.”
So they found a way to market and test new kinds of compounds on students at the college, bribing some of the faculty to siphon supplies, burn and bury reports regarding strange campus activity, and scrub the security tapes.
The biggest surprise was hearing that Charles Rodriguez’s contribution to the enterprise was his knowledge of naturally occurring psychedelics, and who to source them from safely. Turns out that micro-dosing is (or before prison, was) one of his favorite hobbies.
You should have guessed, honestly. Only a man on shrooms would think he could cross Silco and still come out the other side on top.
After that, Thomas gave you a spark notes version of events.
“Silco and Sevika went to meet Finn to stall for time while Marcus and Jinx monitored communications across town. Their goal was to confirm the location of the lab, which had been provided by Sergeant Billings.”
“Who?”
“He was a medic for The Hounds of the Underground, Silco and Sevika’s squad. Jinx calls him Doctor Singed.”
After he’d mentioned it, you remembered the name.
“He’s an off the charts kind of brilliant, but in a way that makes him bad with people. He’s the guy who helped perfect the medication for Silco’s eye.”
(You decided you’d give the man a hug, if you ever meet him).
After Marcus and Jinx confirmed the location of the lab, Sheriff Kiramman led a team to a different location, as a decoy, while Heath (apparently some kind of hacking wizard?) inserted a virus into the lab’s security feeds. This had given Thomas – and the swat team he so modestly claims to have led, courtesy of Piltover PD – time to find and extract yourself and Ekko before the alarm was triggered.
And that was the end of the story.
Glaringly absent in the retelling is what happened to Silco and Sevika that lead to their separate incarcerations.
And why he hasn’t come to see you.
Because he should have. Or he would have, if he could have.
It feels like a conspiracy.
The nurses in your hospital room had proven equally unhelpful. They told you he was on a different floor, and that he shouldn’t be disturbed. You’d answered he wouldn’t care if it was you. They’d replied politely that they understood, but they really couldn’t help.
“Do you want jello or pudding for dessert?”
Even when convalescing in your mother’s home, you’d been treated very carefully. As if you weren’t strong enough to handle the truth.
“You’ve been through a very traumatic experience,” Your mother said, kissing you on the forehead.
Which, in hindsight, perhaps you have.
Ever since you woke up in the hospital, you’ve been carrying a weight on your chest. A lingering, unnameable anxiety. It pounds your heart in unexpected moments. But not because you were chased through a haunted maze – though that had been terrifying – or even because you’d woken up tied to a chair (Because once you’d understood what was happening, it hadn’t been a question whether Silco would come for you, but when).
The problem is the man himself -- Or the lack thereof.
And time.
You check your phone.
45 minutes until dinner.
You don’t understand why you’re being left in the dark. Being relegated to an invalid, sitting around with no serious work to do to distract you from your thoughts, is horrible for your state of mind. You don’t even have work, because the doctor told you that you needed to take an entire week off to “Rest”.
You’d tried to work around it. You'd woken up one morning in a panic, realizing that you hadn’t ordered anything for the shop or updated the team. It came as a genuine surprise when you called the shop, and Connor told you that Sevika had passed on the responsibility to himself, temporarily.
“She said you were pretty sick and needed the week off.”
“Oh. Yeah…”
“Don’t worry about us. Just get better soon, boss.”
So the team has it all handled, and even your job has been taken from you. And you’re still left with the curse of having too much time on your hands.
The questions won’t stop turning in your mind.
Why is Silco in the hospital? Is he alright? Why won’t he answer my calls?
Sevika finally got back to you yesterday, when you made it back to your own apartment. But she’d answered the questions in her special, Sevika way:
“Sorry I’ve been MIA, just got out of jail. Silco’s back home trying to sleep things off, and clean up the fucking mess the three stooges left behind.”
“Why were you in jail?” You’d texted in frustration. “ Sleep off what?”
But she’d never answered.
You had a hard time sleeping last night, and ended up texting Jinx.
She straight up ignored your questions, and gave you an update on how her relationship with her sister is progressing instead. Which is lovely, but you can’t help feeling like the entire Spisak clan is hiding something important from you.
Something about Silco.
When you mentioned your frustration to your mom, she changed the subject quickly. Usually centering on your health and recovery.
“Did you end up filling that prescription, or calling the therapist I recommended?”
You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “No. I’ve been pretty tired.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I’m just worried about Silco,” You'd hedged.
“Well you need to take care of yourself, like I’m sure he’s doing. Do you want me to bring over some soup? I made extra spicy Thai chicken. I know you love when I make it.”
You’d accepted the offer of soup.
The full tureen is still in the fridge.
Her incessant pestering is not unusual. Neither is it odd for your father to join her train of encouraging you to rest and take the meds and eat. All the offers of food, extra questions, and “I love yous” feels like your parents’ response to your kidnapping experience.
And you know it's all coming from a place of love.
But they just don't understand the problem.
Namely, Silco.
At least Allie seems to understand. Just before leaving for work today, she’d given you some much needed reassurance:
“I’m sure he’s got a lot on his plate right now, with half the school board getting arrested and going to prison. It’s all over the news. Give it a little more time, babe. He’ll see you when he can. And please. Try to eat something before dinner?”
You’d said you would.
You forgot.
Two.
The number of miles from the fancy steakhouse you’re eating at, called “Skylight”, to Silco’s house.
Three.
It’s the number of hours from this moment until dinner is theoretically concluded, and you’re going to go knock on Silco’s door.
You’re trying not to be ungrateful for dinner. Skylight promises to be a pretty cool experience. It’s on the top floor of one of the high rises in Black Lanes, with a supposed unparalleled view of the city. It’s also the kind of restaurant that has a dress code, and the place your dad took your mother to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary.
Apparently it’s also the place to celebrate getting your daughter back after she’s been kidnapped and held for ransom.
And you’re grateful that they want to celebrate you, truly. But the anxiety in your chest just won’t go away. It's lingered all day, getting worse the longer you're alone. You and your sister were going to carpool, but then she took on a client before dinner. Which is why you’re currently struggling to get ready for the evening while contemplating the worrying conspiracies in your life.
You rub your chest as you turn on the light in the hall.
Allie said you should dress up, and you think you’ll to listen to her advice, but not because of the restaurant’s dress code. If you’re going to visit Silco after dinner, you want to make sure he won’t be able to turn you away.
You put on a simple black dress, and some of the jewelry Silco gave you – including the Cartier necklace. You watch the bedroom lights flicker through the endless fissures of the jewels. Skylight is probably one of few places you’ll actually be able to wear it without being overdressed.
But hey, it is Halloween. Why not enjoy pretending to be a princess for the evening?
(Also, as an added bonus, Silco wouldn’t dare leave you standing on his doorstep dripping with expensive jewelry and risk a second kidnapping).
Your heart actually starts to race at the thought.
What a Halloween season you’ve had.
It’s been one big, cosmic, trick-or-treat routine.
Just as many sweet moments as there have been sour ones.
And in the middle of them all is Silco.
You didn’t realize you’d made him the center of your world, but having him gone has created a black hole. Ever since he’s arrived in your life, he’s been an ever present fixture. Even if everything else in the world is chaos, you could look to him for reassurance and stability. And now he’s suddenly missing, just when you need him the most.
It feels like the world is constantly shifting beneath you, and no ground is safe.
It’s nerve wracking.
So you just have to find him again.
And you will.
In three hours.
The rubber band continues to stretch.
You leave early, and it takes only 25 minutes to make it to Skylight so you’re the first one there. You linger in your car to watch the sunset’s blazing reflection in the skyscraper. A glass elevator rises and lowers on the side of the building, interrupting your inspection of the distorted red orb that glares over the parking lot like a burning eye.
Two and a half more hours.
Your parents arrive some endless ten minutes later. You go to meet them at the door, but your sister is just pulling in, so your mom tells you to wait for her while she goes in to confirm the reservation. You’re left alone in the growing dusk, shifting nervously as the shadows lengthen. But your sister clips over soon enough, and draws you into a hug.
“You look amazing babe! Did you have a good day?”
“Thanks. It was pretty good. You?”
“Yeah, the client was dope, and the tattoo was super original, so I had a lot of fun with the design…”
She chatters about her day as you go inside together, arm in arm.
Before the door is even closed behind you, your mom ushers you forward. The receptionist gestures to a man standing to the side in a fancy suit, who leads you towards the glass elevator. You distractedly stare at the view of Zaun as you rise slowly to the 30th floor.
In your peripheral you watch your mom mess with your father’s tie, making mundane conversation as your sister shuffles from one heeled foot to another, texting (probably Marcus). You attempt to see past your own tired reflection to see if you can pick out Silco’s house from the unorganized grid of the city. There’s a profusion of twinkling lights, and towards the hills in the distance, hazy purple twilight. You manage to find the circle of downtown where the coffee shop and bar are located before the elevator stops, forcing you to turn away.
You exit into a dim, finely ornamented room. For a moment you feel a brief spark of interest as your mother ushers you forward to follow the waiter. You take in the sparkling chandeliers, the white tablecloth tables covered with candelabras and fine china. The people gently glitter, their muted conversation fusing with the sound of a live pianist and tinkling glasses.
You run your hand absently across the backs of white brocade covered bar seats, and automatically come to a halt when the waiter pauses.
“Thank you, Pierre.”
Snap!
Your head whips around so fast at the sound of Silco’s voice, it actually takes you several moments to see straight. Then your vision narrows in on the slim, black-tied figure leaning casually on the bar.
Silco!