Chapter Text
Silco runs. He runs with the desperation of a wild animal, clawing his way far from the bridge. From Vander. His breathing, jagged and rough. Every breath, a struggle to take with the lingering water in his lungs. He can barely see where he is going, slamming into corners he used to be able to judge easily. His mind is a jumbled mess of fragments as panic and survival instincts take over. Everything is wrong. The left side of his face burns like a cigar maliciously pressed deep into skin.
Silco cries out as he stumbles once more, legs finally giving out underneath him. He trembles as he tries and fails to get up again, side pressed harshly into the alleyway wall. He forces himself to think. To pause even as sobs escape his bruised throat. He's far enough away now. He knows he is. Vander wouldn't be able to chase him down this far, not if he didn't want to bleed to death from the knife wound Silco gave him. The thought makes Silco dry heave. Nails digging into the rough concrete texture of the wall to prevent himself from reaching for his wounded eye.
Vander tried to kill him. He thinks, the thought like a gunshot to the heart. Felicia and Connol are dead. The protest failed. And Vander tried to kill him.
"You're the reason they're dead, Silco! You and your idea of Zaun."
Vander had spat at him, a rage so foreign that Silco had not been able to react. Blindsided. It took no hesitance. Vander had attacked him so easily. So readily. It made Silco sick with grief and fear. He doesn't understand why. He sobs, metallic blood dripping from his chin as pseudo tears. He's not safe. Not safe here. Maybe he was never safe. Maybe Vander never cared about him like he had for him. He needs to get somewhere safe. He won't die here. Not like this. Not by Vander's hand. Not because of Vander. He refuses.
But where could he go?
Silco knows he can't stay out here too long. He doesn't know if the enforcers are still combing the streets and he can feel his temperature dropping from his drenched body. His mind is fighting to stay focused and coherent. The river water might not have drowned him but its toxins have definitely latched onto his wounds. He needs to treat his eye. Needs to focus enough to remember a place safe from Vander. Was there even a place like that? He can't go to their hideout, that was likely the first place Vander would look. Babette? No, she would first call Vander and he doesn't have any more favors left to stop her. His mind races. Where? Where? Where could he go? He harshly breathes, gripping his hair to focus. Felicia and Connol are dead. He doesn't know who else lived or died. Who else could resent him enough to want to help Vander kill him? His brain, foolish and still somehow wrapped in sentimentality, latches on one person he could go to. At least for the night. At least long enough that Silco won't die.
Silco wobbly gets up, refusing to drag himself like the drunkards that littered the streets after pay day. His vision swam but Silco was a survivor. A rat that didn't know when to quit some would say and it hurts to think Vander might view him similarly now. It's a slow journey since he ran so wildly in his panic. But when he makes it, he leans against the doorway, panting. He can't make himself knock just yet. His vision is blackening around the edges and he knows he can't take care of himself in this state. He needs to gamble. He doesn't like his odds. But Silco knows that the one thing anyone down here tries to respect is life debts. He just hopes this one is enough for his own life.
With all his remaining strength, he bangs on the back door of Benzo's shop. It's not as loud as he wants to be but he hopes it's enough. He slides down weakly, coughing and sputtering. He tries not to acknowledge the fact that tears are still falling from his eye, but the pain in the other won't let him forget. Everything hurts. He can feel the collar of bruises swelling around his throat. But what hurts the most is that Connol and Felicia are dead. They're dead. They're dead because of him. It repeats like a broken record as he fights to remain conscious.
The door swings open and Silco doesn't have enough strength to stop himself from tipping forward. A rush of adrenaline makes his thoughts sharpen enough to hear Benzo curse in shock. Before Felicia. Before Vander. Silco was used to throwing his dignity away. Pride was nothing in the face of another meal for his stomach or living past a fight. But it's been so long that even he almost wants to throw up when he forces the words out of his mouth.
"Benzo-" Silco croaked, voice hoarse and painful. "I saved your life." He rushed out. Sure, the molotov cocktail he threw doomed Felicia and Connol. And sure Benzo was just being arrested. But no one comes back from Stillwater. Benzo surely knew that. It had to be enough.
"Silco-"
"I saved your life." Silco repeated, lifting his head to look at Benzo. He had to repeat it. Had to drive home the sense that Benzo owned him. Maybe that way he'd believe it too. "Don't let Vander find me. Don't let him kill me. Just this once. I just-" Silco coughs hard enough that his throat feels like someone grated a few layers of skin off. "Just until I'm healed enough to hide. A life for a life," And then more pathetically he adds, "Please."
Silco doesn't get to hear the response, the stress, wounds and exhaustion finally making his body give out. He crumbled, out cold.
*
"Ah Fuck!"
Benzo rushes to catch Silco's head from meeting the floor, completely overwhelmed. He panics as he takes the man in, desperately checking the shivering skin by Silco's neck. Silco whimpers. A pulse. Weak but there. Thank Janna. He hauls Silco up, the weight almost nothing. He feels sick to his stomach, hands shaking as he gets Silco to the only couch he has. He was so glad little Ekko had passed out from crying in the guest room an hour ago, he didn't think he would have been able to handle him and this situation at the same time. Benzo sets Silco down before fetching the almost finished aid kit he cobbled together before the protest.
Silco looks awful. His left eye is a mess, blood and pus oozing out of it steadily. It looks as if someone scraped a chunk out of the skin around the socket, leaving the eyeball exposed. His skin is deadly pale but his cheeks are flushed. Probably a fever then. He's drenched in water that smells like the river. And the bruises. A nasty ring around the man's neck from hands Benzo has a feeling he would recognize.
"I saved your life."
Silco had said as if he needed a reason for him to help Silco. As if Benzo wasn't aware of the reason everything went to shit today. A flush of anger and shame mixes in his stomach as he tries to treat Silco's wound to the best of his ability. Maybe he would have needed a reason, given the fact he nearly hadn't even heard Silco out when he saw who was at the door. Silco caused the protest to go to hell. Benzo had been ready to blame him for Connol's death. For Felicia's. For Ekko's parents. But now the anger turned sour. He hadn't realized Silco had thrown that bomb for him or at least it hadn't really sunk in that was the reason. To stop him from being arrested. He also didn't think that action deserved this. He hates the part of him that understands Vander trying to kill Silco. Even now, grief makes the thought tempting in an ugly way. But not like this. This was cruel. And despite everything, Benzo did view Silco as a friend.
He and Silco were never close, he can admit that. Benzo had been closer to Connol and Vander than Silco. It's the sort of friendship you develop by being in the same gaggle of thieves, a trust to have one's back and a good laugh at some mutual friend's bullshit. It was not the brotherhood Benzo had with Vander nor the camaraderie he had with Connol, but Benzo did trust Silco. And, Benzo swallowed a lump in his throat, it seemed that Silco trusted Benzo too. At least enough to think he would keep his honor to his debts.
"Don't let Vander find me."
Benzo clenched his jaw. Of all the things Benzo imagined Vander doing when he said he was going to find Silco, he had managed to pick the only option that made a shit day into a worse one. Benzo was really going to do this. Somehow he was going to keep Silco a secret until the poor bastard healed up enough for a conversation. A secret from Vander and Ekko because the little man was definitely going to tell Powder if he saw Silco. Powder was absolutely going to tell Vi and then Vander would know anyway. Fuck, he probably needed to get him actual medicine too. Benzo was going to have to cash in some favors himself to keep that quiet too.
Silco twitched and murmured something unintelligible. Benzo had covered his eye with bandages after cleaning the wound as carefully as he could. He didn't think Silco would appreciate Benzo trying to change his clothes at the moment, so all he could do was towel at him and hope for the best. Benzo fiddled with his sideburns awkwardly before sighing. He can't leave Silco here on the couch. He doesn't know when he'll wake up and the whole hiding him from Vander won't work if he was out in the open. Benzo muttered a few half-heartedly curses as he gently picked Silco up again and walked to his room.