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“I’m begging you, he’s all I have.”
Pekka’s pleas are still ringing in his ears when he pushes the heavy doors open. Wylan doesn’t know where his feet are carrying him, doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows he has to get out.
Panicked sirens have long since faded, leaving Ketterdam’s streets deserted and quiet and Wylan has never been so grateful that he studied chemistry. Shuddering breaths escape him, shoulders hunched as he rests his elbows against a cold damp railing.
“I’m begging you, he’s all i have.”
A father begging for his son’s life. Wylan knows it’s justified, Pekka Rollins is getting what’s coming to him and that this is how justice is served. This is how Inej gets free, it’s how Jesper gets proven innocent, it’s how Kaz gets the revenge for that which eats away at him. Still, Pekka’s display of desperation has ingrained in his memory, a testament to all of Wylan’s personal failures. If only you weren’t an idiot. If only you’d been a better son, you could have at least made useful leverage.
Shame burns through him then, an ugly snarling beast ripping him to shreds. Pull yourself together. But he can’t, his eyes are stinging and there’s plastic wrap in his cheeks . If only you’d been a better son.
Limbs aching, he rests his weight on the railing, staring at the wet cobblestone beneath him, wishing it would swallow him whole.
“You left.”
A gravelly, unaffected voice makes Wylan flinch, cheeks flooding crimson with embarrassment at just how jumpy he is lately. Turning to face him is a terrifying thing, he does it nonetheless.
“Kaz, y-yeah I just needed fresh air.” Wylan stammers, bows his head, cowering under Kaz’s shark like gaze that only grows in intensity with the bruises and the eye half swollen shut from where he’d taken Pekka’s beating. Wylan swallows, wild eyes flicking between the ground and kaz. “Did you need something?”
“Pekka Rollins was just arrested by the stadwatch for Tante Heleen’s and the Constable’s murder.” Kaz speaks, slightly smirking beneath a split lip and Wylan swears it’s the happiest he’s ever looked. ghezen he’s practically gleaming!
“That’s good, plan worked then?”
“That it did. Alby Rollins pulled up in a carriage just in time to see his father get carted away in chains.” Wylan’s stomach churns at Kaz’s gleeful words, the thought of what will happen to the boy now, that through no fault of his own, he could face consequences of his fathers bad decisions. “alive and unharmed.”
Oxygen should have filled his lungs at that, should have made it easier to breathe but it isn’t, it isn’t and Wylan, well, Wylan doesn’t know what to say to that so he just doesn’t. Instead he nods, returns his gaze to Kaz, waits for him to leave so the facade can crack just a little bit before he repairs it. The only sound to be heard is a faint clamour behind the doors to the Khaelish Prince, the fallout of Dirtyhand’s greatest performance.
Kaz starts to turn, about to leave Wylan alone again and against the younger man’s better judgment, he opens his mouth.
“Why?” The question lands just as Kaz’s cane thuds against the ground but it doesn’t lift again. Wylan chances a look up, sees Kaz shift his weight before straightening. Appearance fails him then, and the bruise blooming on his left cheekbone becomes just wrong to look at, Dirtyhands is gone just for a moment. Kaz Brekker is here and he looks so young and so dreadfully old. Wylan thinks he can see traces of the boy lost in there all those years ago, the boy Kaz mentioned who died with his brother.
Sometimes Wylan thinks he died too, drowned in the canal, Wylan Van Eck was no more, though he hadn’t been van eck since his mother died, since his father gave up on him, since he became a stain on the family name. Wylan Van Eck was dead and Wylan Hendricks emerged from the depths of hell, drenched from head to toe still clawing at the hands that had long since left his throat.
Maybe they’re more alike than Wylan would care to admit.
Kaz’s confused eyebrow raise breaks him out of his musings, imploring him to elaborate.
“Why risk lying to Rollins? If he didn’t believe you about Alby, the plan wouldn’t have…” The demolition man trails off, not even wanting to think of what the crows’ fates would be.
“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.” Wylan doesn’t doubt it, not for a second but there’s a furrow in his brow, something he isn’t saying. Deciding not to push his luck, Wylan screws his lips shut before he ends up dead at the bottom of the canal. He was never supposed to make it to belendt.
“It wasn’t necessary for the plan.” Kaz saves him the trouble of wondering if only for a moment. “Besides I don’t believe sons should pay for their fathers sins, do you?”
Wylan sobers, left hand clutching the railing tightly trying to get his fingers to stop their shaking. does he know? no no he can’t know.
“No. No, I don’t believe that.” And he doesn’t, doesn’t believe Alby should pay for Pekka Rollins mistakes, doesn’t believe he himself should pay for Jan Van Eck’s cruelty. He already has, he never will again, no, his sins are the only ones he’ll pay the price for. Wylan says a silent prayer to ghezen that maybe, just maybe, the silence is causing this anxious feeling in his gut, that Kaz’s knowing gaze is misinterpreted, that Kaz can’t tell how unsteady his voice is, as futile and pointless as it is. Dirtyhands knows everything . “I’m gonna go find Jes.”
And he’s walking away, attempting to appear stable when he feels like he might collapse under the weight of it all. The noise of the Khaelish Prince gets louder and louder with every step he takes, and Wylan doesn’t know if he can face it but he’d rather be anywhere than here.
“Wylan?” Kaz calls out, unmoving from his spot, as the demolitions expert looks over his shoulder, preparing himself to run as always.
“Yes?”
It’s Kaz’s turn to pause, calculating his next move, and then he looks at Wylan’s fearful but unrelenting gaze, a face he recognises from his darkest days and comes to a conclusion. Wylan is more like him than he’ll ever admit.
“You’re a crow now. Be wary of the dime lions, a bruised ego brings out the worst in them.” Kaz speaks plainly, dark intense eyes pinning Wylan to the spot for a minute.
Wylan just nods, walks away on unsteady feet, and goes back inside to collect his things, and find Jesper, hoping it’s been long enough that he won’t want to talk about the fucked up performance they just bared witness to. He doesn’t want Jesper to see this, to question the way his hands shake or how his voice croaks when he’s stuck in his head like this, the way he flinches involuntarily at every loud noise, brown doe eyes searching for danger like a hunted creature backing itself into a corner.
As soon as he’s in the Khaelish Prince, he spots him. The sharpshooter, still wearing that ridiculous red cloak, is finishing his drink next to Nina. The heart render says something then, at which Jesper laughs loud and boisterous, tipping his head back and flashing a toothy grin. Wylan has never seen something so beautiful, probably never will again, so he decides he doesn’t want to ruin this, resigns himself to wait for Jesper to find him. He always does eventually. He just hopes Kaz’s all knowing words will stop rolling around in his skull before then.
I don’t believe sons should pay for their father’s sins, do you?