Chapter Text
Navigating the streets of the Barrel was like looking at the back of his hand. Every side alley, twist of the canal and pot hole was ingrained into his mind, seared in like a brand on a cattle’s hide. He’d spent his days traversing these streets, hopping from den to den praying for the next big win. University hadn’t missed him and he certainly hadn’t missed it .
They’d returned from Ravka only a few weeks ago and Jesper had recounted the last few weeks of his life. After entering the fold one too many times, trying to kidnap the sun summoner, being fugitives for a murder they didn't commit, travelling to Shu Han where they’d been poisoned, shot at, attacked by Grisha, Volcra, Nichevo’ya and somehow ending up at the Darkling’s pyre; he’d begun to appreciate the ways and rules of the barrel slightly less, the ways of others, how he’d been living the past few years. Shooting quickly and asking questions later, saving himself and his crew before waiting to see who he was saving them from, bending bullets through the air without even realising he was doing it until a certain demolitions expert had so cleverly pointed it out.
Jesper was staring at said demolitions expert whilst listening to his rambled rants, honing in on the way his lips would twitch to one side whenever he had to think about his words for more than a few seconds. He smiled down at him as Wylan vented on. He was talking about how the chemicals in his new prototype were so volatile that if he used even one gram more than needed he could blow half of Ketterdam to the sky, taking most of them with it.
His brown hair was fluffy on his head and his dark eyes shone brightly as if someone actually listening to him was something that rarely occurred in the younger man’s world. Jesper had only recently learned of the Merchlings' background, how his father was the merchant that had hired them for their new job.
Wylan had sat there in the Crow Club after Kaz had revealed that his father was the one paying them for their suicide mission to the Ice Court. Jesper had been stunned into silence, only able to watch as Wylan and Kaz exchanged very few, very spiteful words before he ran from the gambling den and refused to listen to the calls of his own name coming from the gunslinger.
They’d spoken together that night. Jesper was angry that Wylan had chosen to stay hidden in the shadows, refusing to tell him who he really was. But as the chemist's voice had shook, as his fingers trembled trying to expel his excuse he’d realised that, maybe, Wylan had his own depressing reasoning for keeping his mouth shut. Wylan had pulled some papers from under his mattress, the notes shaking in his hands as he’d passed them to Jesper and asked him so quietly to read them to him.
He had. The inked words on the paper had made Jesper want to pull his revolvers to the man, to wave the guns around his head and maybe, just maybe pull the trigger. Though, upon hearing the contents of the letter, Wylan hadn’t sobbed, hadn’t raged, as if he knew, somehow, what the scribbles on the papers could’ve said. He’d smiled at Jesper, a single tear rolling down his reddening cheek and Jesper had swiped it away. Wylan had cried more openly at that and Jesper had shed a small tear of his own at seeing the state the words had put him in. They’d fallen into bed then, wrapped in eachothers arms, and drifted off to sleep, shoes and all.
Now, they bounded through the morning streets, boots clicking on the cobbles. Kaz had given them a wad of kruge and one chime of the bell to go out and get some ammunition and firing powders for the journey ahead. They had three more days to prepare before they would be boarding a boat to Fjerda and other than getting supplies from around the city, Kaz had ordered them to stay put in The Crow Club.
It was driving Jesper insane. Staying cooped up in the same place for so long, with only the same few card games to keep him occupied. He’d wanted to go out with Wylan, find a waffle house or a late night show and return in the early hours of the morning, far too drunk and far too susceptible to taking the Merchling to bed with him.
He was glad for the opportunity to get out, the sun was shining which rarely ever happened, though a dark cloud did loom over the harbour in the distance, and the streets were full of those who were least likely to try anything with the pair. These were the regular Kerch citizens, the ones out to grab some sun and a loaf of bread. The day time was their prime and only a few sensible people that would only draw in defence would be carrying a weapon, Jesper didn’t know how it made him feel.
Wylan continued on beside him.
“I mean I’m glad I bought it because then I could blow the hole to pass the butterflies through but I just- If we’d had more time I would’ve gone back and bought some more because I used it all in Ohval’s trap house and now I have nothing to experiment with-”
“Well, If you want, Merchling, once this job is completed I would be more than happy to take you back to Shu Han. You can let your little heart run wild with all the stalls they had at that market.” Jesper had picked up one of the ornaments on a passing stall, turning the object around before deciding it was stupid and putting it back down, returning his full attention to Wylan who had morphed his face into disgust at the new nickname.
“I mean, you don't have to do that Jesper, but If you want to I would love too-”
“Just promise not to suck up to Tolya?”
Wylan’s cheeks flooded crimson and Jesper held back a laugh as Wylan opened his mouth to argue,
“Tolya won’t be invited, Jesper.”
They turned the corner to the alley that would cut their route down by a few marks, they were headed to get Jesper some more bullets, he’d used his last stock trying to shoot a spec on the wall in the storage room in the Crow Club, then he’d gotten bored and tried to shoot the same bullet hole over and over again, Kaz hadn’t been too pleased with him after that.
The alley was much darker than the street they’d been walking on and it seemed to stretch on for miles, the red bricks narrowing in the centre to form an exit way they would never reach.
Wylan had begun to talk about how he’d been thinking of a new kind of ammo for Jesper’s guns. Something that could explode on impact, throwing a type of shrapnel or chemical outwards, taking more targets down with one shot, how they’d fit his gun perfectly and he wouldn’t have to worry about them exploding from the force of the firing mechanism because he’d thought the casing through perfectly. Jesper could listen to his genius mind talking for the rest of his life if he could. It calmed his mind, even if it were only for a few seconds.
Jesper was about to speak then, mentioning something he’d seen in a play that could be incorporated into the demo experts brilliant plans but he was cut short by a shadow in his peripheral, something moving quickly from behind a wooden pallet leaning against the wall before retracting, as if it had moved too early.
Wylan had seen it too, judging by the small dip in his tone and the flicker of his hands to his pocket. Jesper had kept walking, hoping that Wylan would follow suit, his hands hovered over his revolvers and his heart was, guiltily, racing for something to actually attack them. He’d been stuck inside for two days, a quick round of chancing certain death was surely something that would calm his bounding mind.
They’d kept their pace, heading straight forward, the wooden pallet on Jesper’s right was slowly creeping closer and even in the darkness of the alley, Jesper could recognise the crouched silhouette of a man behind it.
His fingers danced over the metal of his pistol now, playing with the feeling at his fingertips as he ached to shoot something and that shadow behind the wood looked like amazing target practice. Wylan had started to chatter on about something useless, that meant nothing to anyone who was potentially trying to find out some kind of information on Kaz and his Crows, he’d learnt quickly, Jesper could praise him for that.
They were in line with the palette now and Wylan’s hands had dug deep in his pocket, usually they moved around his front when he spoke, demonstrating his words like drawings in the air, now, Jesper knew one was clutching a handful of acidic powder, the other was holding something Jesper didn’t want to be near when it was released.
They took another stride beside the wood, keeping the same pace as they’d had when they’d entered the alley. They were just about to clear the board when the form launched outwards and figures emerged from every shadow the alley had cast.
~~~
It was like the shadowed walls of the alley had come to life, the bricks seemed to be moving as bodies revealed themselves from their hiding spots and Jesper cursed himself for not being able to sense the metal of their weapons.
They’d been surrounded, ten people held them in the middle of a circle a third of the way into the alley. Some held guns, most brandished pieces of broken pipes, bats or brass knuckles, the one facing them head on was holding a blade.
Jesper had held his revolvers steady, pointing one directly at the man with the blade, the other to the side, level with another pistol that was cocked at his head. The man with the knife began to speak and past his rolled up sleeve Jesper could make out the beginning of a tattoo, three birds. Fucking Razorgulls.
One day, Jesper thought, one day Geels will give up his one sided piss party with Kaz.
“If it isn’t Jesper Fahey. And Brekker’s new Demo Man, I believe?”
“Don’t act surprised to see us, Zeelen, this was clearly planned on your behalf. What do you want?”
“Now, now, Fahey. Boss sent us to uh, have a little chat, that’s all.” His words were quiet, though laced with confidence.
“Chat about what? We aren’t on Razorgull’s territory.” He’d really wanted a fight, loved one even and the worse the odds the better he fought but something about this felt wrong.
“Oh, this ain’t about turf, pretty boy-”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Jes-” Wylan mumbled next to him.
“I’d shut it if I were you, Fahey-”
“Listen, Zeelen, I know you’ve got a job to do but we’re on a bit of a time constraint here so why don’t you lot either bugger off or stop talking so we can get down to business, yeah?”
Zeelen had twisted his knife then, twirling it quickly in his scarred hand before spreading a wry smile over his lips, then he’d started closing in and the rest of the circle had followed his lead.
They had begun to shuffle uncomfortably as the men neared them and Jesper’s guns buzzed in his hand.
“Bombs or guns first?” He mumbled to Wylan.
“Eyes, Fahey.” At that, Jesper had thrown his arm over his shut lids, pressing as hard as he could against his ears in an attempt to block out the sound of the flashbang.
He’d heard the explosion, flinching as his eyelids erupted in bright white despite having two layers of protection. Then he pulled his arm down and balanced his gun, spinning to face Wylan quickly before letting off several shots over his shoulder, bringing his right pistol out, firing millimetres away from Wylan’s crouched form. He saw two stunned bodies fly backwards from his bullets, and heard another collapse behind him.
Then he felt a harsh smack to the back of his head and blinding pain erupted in his skull as he tumbled forward onto his knees, one revolver falling from his grip as the other bore his weight under his hand, scratching against the concrete.
Another loud crack sounded and Jesper felt his spine throb as something battered against it, he toppled hard, landing on his stomach as an unrelenting boot pushed his ribs into the stone.
He heard Wylan shouting in surprise behind him as a fist dawning brass knuckles connected with his eye but then Jesper had seen the signature white powder being thrown. The sizzle that sounded as it came into contact with one of the man’s eyes was sickening, his reaction to the chemical was so visceral he’d let his finger pull the trigger of his gun, sending one of his own men down to the floor with him. He’d tried to cheer Wylan on as he then raised his fist backwards and sent a nose cracking punch to one of the Razorgulls, Jesper felt somewhat proud of the noise that had come from the man’s mouth as he fell to the floor clutching his face.
Wylan had then made a brave swing for Zeelen, his other hand launching back into his pocket for more chemicals but Zeelan was faster and pulled Wylan’s wrist hard, swinging him round and holding him tight against his chest before placing an arm that was far too tight around Wylan’s neck.
“This what you wanted it to come down too, Fahey?”
Jesper’s face was pressed hard into the ground of the alley and his ribs felt like they were going to burst through his back from the force that whoever was standing on him was applying.
“Leave him out of this, he’s done nothing.” He tried to yell out but it sounded more like drunken man's slurs.
“He’s done nothing? Tell that to Mulder’s smouldering eyes, you little prick-” He tightened his grip on Wylan’s neck and the smaller man gasped for air.“We weren’t sent to kill you, Fahey, we was sent to give a warning though now I’m not really sure I give a flying fuck what happens to either of you. Two of Kaz Brekker’s Crows out of my way would definitely make my life a lot easier.” Wylan was struggling hard now, his face was strained and he’d drawn blood on Zeelen’s arm from where his nails were digging in. The knife in Zeelen’s free hand was dangerously close.
Then the person on top of him shifted and all the air in his lungs disappeared. Their full weight bearing down on him as they shifted to move their other foot. Jesper watched as a firm boot hovered over his fingers, threatening to crush them.
“What use would a sharpshooter with broken fingers be to Brekker, huh?”
Jesper wanted to call out the use of healers, maybe call him a rather rude word whilst he was at it but he watched Zeelen nod to the person above him and as the boot lowered to his fingers all he could do was scream.
His bones popped, a few cracked and the curves of the gun under his hand were cutting into his skin, digging into his flesh like a blade edge. He could hear Wylan’s choked yells though through his pain he refused to look up. He yelled as another pop echoed through him, gritting his teeth as every crack made him want to vomit. Agony raced up his arm.
Then the pressure was removed and he screamed as another wave of pain rocketed through him. The boot kicked his gun away and a rough hand pulled his head up by his hair, letting him see the two men in front of him. He could feel the graze down the side of his face from the stone.
“Jes-” Wylan breathed out, his face redder than before. Jesper could see his hand inching towards his pocket, trying to grab the last of his powder.
“Should’ve just let me talk, Fahey, but you never could keep your mouth shut, could you?” Zeelen’s hand moved widely, still gripping the knife hard and despite his own distress he flinched every time it moved too close to Wylan’s side.
“Boss wanted us to tell you to keep an eye out.” He swung the knife again, “That Brekker’s actions at the Exchange the other night only fueled Geels’ rage.” Another swing. “That he’ll bring you all to the ground and you won’t ever see it coming.”
Jesper’s first mistake was in his eyes, letting his emotions seep through as the knife came into contact with Wylan’s jacket, slicing the layers open, his next mistake was letting his heart do the talking. He yelled, loudly.
“No!” He’d thought the knife had gone deep, had nicked Wylan, hit him. It hadn’t, but he hadn’t waited to find that out.
Zeelen had stopped abruptly, letting the demo man continue to squirm in his grip as his air was running out and the arm around his neck was unyielding.
“Oh- oh! What do we have here, Fahey.” Zeelen angled the knife against Wylan’s side, pressing hard enough to draw blood through the slice in his clothes. Jesper yelled out again. “You care for this little vermin.” He spat out through gritted teeth. Jesper wanted to scream.
The knife was pushed deeper and Wylan screwed his eyes shut tight as the blade broke further into his skin.
“Stop-”
“You ain’t calling the shots, sharpshooter. Though I ain’t sure we can call you that anymore.” A vile laugh echoed around the group. Four sick voices laughing at the horror in front of them. He was sure he’d done something like this to others before. That thought made him gag.
Wylan was trying his best to pull away though Zeelens voice came into ear shot again.
“Ah, ah, ah, demo man, not getting away from this one. If only your gunslinger here had kept his fuckin’ mouth shut, maybe then you would be walking away from this. If only the Barrel had taught him better-”
“Fuck off, you bastard.” Wylan had spat out with his last remaining breath and Jesper had watched him send all his force backwards, trying to kick Zeelen’s knees inwards but Wylan’s attempt was weakened by his position and Zeelen easily yanked him back up right.
“I said stop-” Then, he’d plunged the blade into Wylan’s side, the hilt half disappearing past his blood soaked jacket. His face was that of pure torture and as Zeelen pulled the blade out and loosened his grip on his neck, Wylan knee’s connected hard with the floor before he fell forwards and Jesper could no longer see his face.
The pressure on his back felt so much worse now, like a building had come down on top of him. Zeelen had started to walk away, spitting at Wylan’s crumpled form as he stepped over him like a piece of rubbish on the street.
Jesper wasn’t expecting the strike to the head. It had stunned him, had him lying on the stone for much longer than he’d wanted too as his vision swam and darkness threatened to consume him. He’d fought, letting his eyes roll back before peeling them forward and trying to focus on something. The red bricks slowly came into view though If Jesper tried to count them he was sure he’d total up double as many. He could finally breathe again, though it stung with every inhale.
He tried to hoist himself onto his hands, gripping at the stones to try and steady himself before a disgusting pop came from his hand and he dropped his weight, pulling his bruised fingers to his chest. Any other day he’d cringe from the whimper that had left his mouth, though now it felt completely dignified. He clutched his hand, the pain shooting through his arm once more, pulsing up and down with every beat of his racing heart.
Wylan- He needed to get to Wylan, he dared to look up. The man was curled in on himself, Jesper couldn’t make out the rise and fall of his chest and that only made him panic more.
“Wy- Wylan,” He struggled out, dragging himself along the floor as his ribs cried from his torso, they were definitely bruised if not cracked. Nina was going to have a field day when they got back.
He pulled himself the last inch, undamaged fingers clutching at Wylan’s jacket, blood beginning to soak his hand.
He heaved himself upright onto his knees pulling Wylan around in an attempt to get him flat on his back but the sight made bile rise in his throat.
“Saint’s, Wy-” His face was pale and covered in a film of sweat, his whole body shook and he inhaled violently as if he’d only just remembered to breathe but he was cut short by the hacking that erupted from his throat, red spittle flying from his lips.
“Jes- Are you- your hand?”
“Fuck- I’m okay, Merchling, we need to get back to the Crow Club.”
“I don’t want-, it hurts, it hurts so bad-.” Jesper looked down to the pool of red forming under Wylan’s side and all he wanted was to heal him, to change his grisha order for five bloody minutes and put the blood back where it was meant to be. To kiss his fluffy, untamable hair and tell him it would all be okay.
“I know- I know, Wylan but we have to- we have to move, we have to go.” They were both breathless, gasping for air loudly as life continued on as normal outside of the alley. Wylan’s hazel eyes were slowly glassing over and the sight made Jesper want to challenge the Saint’s themselves. He took his unharmed hand and lightly tapped Wylan on the cheek.
“No- Come on, Merchling, stay awake for me,” Wylan’s eyes jumped back to life, fluttering lightly in the darkness.
“This is going to hurt like a bitch, isn't it?” Wylan’s voice was hoarse, trembling.
“Yeah, it’s going to fucking suck- but you’ll be okay, I promise you, I’m right here, Wy.” Jesper gave him a quick peck on the temple before he sat back on his heels and instructed Wylan to put as much pressure as possible on his side, no matter how badly it hurt, he’d tried not to flinch at the yelp he’d released.
Then he moved behind Wylan and tried to hook his hands under his shoulders only causing himself more agony when his shattered hand brushed against Wylan’s shoulder blade.
“Okay- shit. Wylan I need you to sit forward as quickly as you can and fling your left arm outwards, okay?” Wylan sucked in a few harsh breaths, building himself up slowly before he launched himself upwards, his left arm went flying out beside him and Jesper punched his right arm through the vice like hold Wylan’s had at his side before latching his elbows under his shoulders and hoisting him up trying his best to ignore the gut wrenching screams of pain.
“I know, I’m sorry- I’m sorry.” Wylan’s eyes rolled back in his head again though this time he pulled them forward himself, swaying on his feet. Hurting Wylan was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do but if it meant that he got the help he needed Jesper would make himself listen to them to remind himself that Wylan was still alive, in agony, but still alive. That was better than nothing.
“Come on, let me-” Jesper looped Wylan’s arm over his neck, placing the wrist of his injured hand over Wylan’s to keep it secure before he held the other upright with his good arm, placing as much pressure as he could over the wound. His hand was already dripping and Wylan swayed again as Jesper started stumbling back through the alley way with Wylan glued to his hip.
They were only five marks away from the Crow Club and when they got there Kaz would send for a healer whilst Nina would do her best to stop the bleeding, they could do it, they would do it.
But then Wylan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and as his body fell completely limp in Jesper’s arms he realised he had never felt so helpless.