Chapter Text
Something like 19:00, Spring, 2005.
Somewhere on the way back to Virginia
Exy events for the Ravens always went more or less the same way. They sat down in their impenetrable line, traded thinly veiled insults with their table partners for a couple hours, and ate practically nothing of whatever deeply unauthorized meals they were served. They tolerated as little of the corresponding socialization as they could possibly get away with until The Master was satisfied with the publicity and Riko could extract him from the herds of adoration.
Nathaniel Wesninski’s role was simple. He and Jean Moreau flanked their King from one excruciating conversation to the next. They voiced the cruel thoughts Riko couldn’t while he kept his porcelain, diplomatic mask in place. About half the time they got to talk about something actually interesting, like Exy. The rest of the evenings Nathaniel spent mentally replaying the last games he’d watched of their conversation partners in fine detail, or sniping with Jean about statistics.
The only difference this year was that the Ravens pulled over halfway back to West Virginia. Usually they drove through the night, one day of fucking up their internal clocks was better than several of meaninglessly wasted time when they could be on the court.
A change in schedule meant a change in something with the Moriyama’s, it never meant anything else. With the expected level of grumbling the ravens scattered to their rooms in pairs, herds of black swarming the hotel, gaining looks of confusion or rare awe from the few other denizens. This must have been a last minute change, otherwise Nathaniel had no doubt they’d have bought out the whole hotel to avoid tripping over unwanted neighbors.
The rest scattered hesitantly, ready to pick up and go again at a moment’s notice. Nathaniel paced Jean to their room and waited. They alone would know more or less the timeframe of what was going on. With the ragged gap that Kevin’s betrayal had left in the perfect court they were all Riko had left, and that made his business their business.
They stopped their conversation immediately when the door opened, quelled by the way the light caught Riko’s eye. The three of them would have one room, awkward but any alternative was unthinkable. With Kevin gone.
“I’m leaving. With Tetsuji.” That was a shock.
That look in his eye meant it was a family thing, then. Riko was almost never invited to anything concerning his family. This meant it didn’t concern his father or his brother.
And yet still, Riko wouldn’t give up that tiny hope. They would all suffer when he came back.
Jean bowed his head, Jean didn’t ask questions but Nathaniel raised his chin, “Us?”
Riko’s lip curled. “You stay here. We go home tomorrow.”
That was the best he’d get. Nathaniel shrugged and flopped back on the bed, making the movement as casual as possible. They weren’t in Evermore right now. “Okay. Call me when you get lonely.” He saw the way Jean smothered his flinch. He saw the way Riko tracked his movement. He caught Riko’s dark stare and almost smiled.
Riko always reacted to his smiles, “You’ll regret that Wesninski.”
Nathaniel let the cold smirk unfurl in full. It took Riko a long moment to look away.
* * *
Jean waited nearly a minute after the door closed. He always did, never quite convinced that they were alone. Never not on edge, especially after Kevin.
When he did unleash, however, it was with typically caustic aggravation, “Arrête de lui aggace.”
Nathaniel conceded with a shrug and sat up, “Peut-être je l’apaise en avance.”
“Peut-être tu l’enèrves plus et nous allons tous le regretter quand il retourne en rage, casse couille.”
Nathaniel refused to capitulate further, “Casse-couille ou sans couille, Il sera Riko de gré ou de force, Jean. I’ll take the brunt of it, you know you will.”
“Tu peux pas en tout prendre!” Jean bit his lip and glared before growling, “Ne te batte pas à ma place.”
“No.” Nathaniel pushed off the bed and crossed the room. Jean straightened, ready to fight him or stop him.
“Où vas-tu?”
“Out.”
“Out where.”
“To get food we can eat. Or that you will eat.”
Jean pouted, stubborn. “J’ai mangé au banquet ce soir.”
“You took three bites then looked sick because you couldn’t figure out what was in the soup. I refuse to watch you hunger strike for the next 24 hours. I’ll get chicken or something.”
Jean kicked the chair away from their hotel desk and fell into it. He dragged over his bag and started pulling out notebooks.“Casse-toi, chiant.”
* * *
The night outside was cool, too early in the year to be disgustingly humid. It was utterly disorienting to be alone. Nathaniel was the most likely to push the edges of their cage, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside like this.
The night his mother tried to steal him, maybe.
He set out in an aimless direction. Nathaniel Wesninski remembered distantly what it was like to live separate from the dysfunctional organism of the Ravens, but that life had been heavily overshadowed by the rather oppressive monolith which was having a hitman for a father. Nathaniel had never quite known what the world looked like to normal people.
He never would. He didn’t want to. He broke into a jog, and then a run, and let the world inside and out blur around him.
* * *
They were in Colombia, South Carolina, apparently. Home to the Palmetto State Foxes, or too close for comfort; the least interesting, most embarrassing Exy team in the league. Or they had been, before the beaten and bloody husk of the second most famous player in the world crawled to their doorstep three months before.
Kevin Day would never play again. For all intents and purposes his presence did little for the ragtag dysfunctional team but draw even more attention to their ridicule. That and the sudden, more pointed obsession of their polar opposite: the monolith of the best team in the nation. The Ravens would not easily forget the betrayal of their Kevin Day.
Riko Moriyama would not easily forget the betrayal of his blood brother. Nathaniel could distract Riko from most things, when he tried. He had failed again and again to draw his attention away from their missing piece.
Palmetto State was somewhere vaguely to the north of Colombia, but still. The mere thought of being so close to Kevin Day twisted the piece of Nathaniel that he held on a thin leash. He would not meet his failure face to face but it didn’t stop him from looking. If he did - Nathaniel wasn’t used to being alone. He had no idea what he’d do without Jean or Riko to corral him.
* * *
Nathaniel could withstand threats, beatings, and torture. He was used to pain, to moving through bone deep bruising, but somehow playing high contact was nothing compared to the excruciation of going to the grocery store. It was dark out but neon lights and cracked cement made for unfamiliar shadows. Whatever expression he made was the wrong one. Customers shied away from him. One cashier immediately went on break when he began to approach their empty lane.
For the first time since the doors of Evermore slammed shut behind him nearly a decade ago Nathaniel was painfully aware of how similar he looked to his father. And that here there was nobody to vouch for Moriyama's claim on him.
The disorienting image of Nathan Wesninski standing in a grocery store looking at grapes might have made him laugh if he didn’t want to vomit.
Eventually he tried the self checkout. Getting in an argument with a cheap ass robot over the weight of a rotisserie chicken did nothing to improve his mood.
Nathaniel was desperate seconds from attempting to just walk out with his bag and damn the consequences, or worse calling Riko and asking how to use an ATM, when somebody approached.
If the act alone wouldn’t have put him on edge, the dull, deadpan intonation of his full name would have, “Nathaniel Wesninski.”
He made himself not run. He put down the stupid chicken. He ignored the way the robot chattered at him and turned slowly.
He didn’t know who he was expecting it to be. Lola Malcom would have been the worst option. Kevin Day was a close second.
Maybe Andrew Minyard, the stone-cold kite-high maniac of a Palmetto State goalie, the man who had told Riko no and salted the wound when he stole Kevin Day from them would have been a pretty solid third. “Minyard.”
Andrew smiled. Nathaniel had seen his smiles on TV, blissful uncaring drugged hysteria. This one was dry and cold.
Someone like Andrew Minyard could never frighten someone like Nathaniel Wesninski. Not after his father, Lola, Riko. People talked like the psycho was openly as sadistic as Nathaniel knew all too well real people could be, but he could tell at a single glance that Andrew lacked any real bloodthirst.
Still, there was something off about apathy which ran this deep. However badly people misjudged him, Andrew Minyard wasn’t a liar. Nor was he an empty threat. It was just that his violence would be utilitarian. And there was nothing to fear from that.
“Fancy catching you here, Raven.” The man propped a shoulder against the obnoxious chattering robot and lit up a cigarette.
Nathaniel fought the ridiculous urge to take a step back. His mother had smoked.
Ravens abhorred drugs, but it was more the memory of her strong hand on his arm, dragging him down that damn tunnel which sent him reeling. Mary Wesninski had been tough as nails to her bloody, regrettable end.
“No smoking inside, Minyard.”
Andrew smiled wider, “A true American gentleman! Never would have guessed it of you. How revealing it is, to meet face to face.”
“Are you stalking me, Minyard?”
Andrew laughed, “Adorable, that you think I’d go to the effort. You are a nobody, Wesninski. Not even the most interesting of your King’s deranged little amoeba.”
He took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke into Nathaniel’s face, “It’s hard to ignore a flock when it lands in your backyard. Rather distinctive, all those black shells and pouting beaks all over the place.”
Nathaniel did not like the way he said King. “You’ve got a wide territory if is your backyard.”
“Oh no, I’m a Colombia native, didn’t you know? Something something family and roots, you’d understand, I’m sure.” Andrew didn’t bother to check to see if his barbs landed. He took another drag on the cigarette, “It’s the weekend. Colombia is my territory, and you are an intruder.” He let his eyes slide up and down Nathaniel’s body, “One who’s strayed from the pack.”
Nathaniel was not used to being on edge. He clocked it up to spending so little time with anybody but the Ravens. Without Jean on one side and Riko on the other the world was a disorienting place. Especially with this man, who made the specter of Kevin loom brighter than ever.
“We’ll be gone in the morning.” Nathaniel considered Andrew. The goalkeeper was impressively short, but Nathaniel himself had inherited his mother’s height to the inch. It left less than a third of a foot between them. Still, Andrew was a solid weight, and a goalkeeper. Not to mention a man on a tight legal leash, one narrowly missing several murder charges if rumor was to be believed.
Nathaniel decided right then and there that he did believe the rumors. If it was a fight Andrew was looking for, Nathaniel would probably lose. Nathaniel was bad at refusing a call to fight.
"Youre coming with me tonight"
Whatever he had been expecting, that was not fucking it. Nathaniel’s energy had been building and now he felt more alive than he had all day.
The butcher’s son smiled. Something in the way his smile hit his eyes made people wary. It left them backing down or made them wild. "Why the hell would I do that?"
Andrews' gaze didn't waver, "Because you know there's more out there than this."
That startled Nathaniel enough for even a hint of honesty. More than what? Exy was the only thing that made sense at all. He scoffed "Bullshit. This is all there is"
Even Jean hated his obsession with the court. Only Riko understood.
Once Kevin had too. Before he broke. Their weakest link anywhere but the playing field.
This unstable goalkeeper had mopped up those pieces and collected them for whatever misguided, idiotic strategy he thought he was playing. He didn’t even know the rules of the game, Nathaniel almost felt sorry for him, for all of the thirty seconds before he opened his mouth again.
"Youre Nathaniel Wesninski. You push boundaries. You toe past the line. You're one step from falling over it for good. What's your goal Nathaniel, when Riko loses the next fight with Tetsuji over you"
Damn this psychotic unwavering midget. He had no business uprooting Neal so securely. Not when he could stand his own against Lola's stare. Not when he was the only one who dared face off against King.
The uneasy memory of the masters cane ticked against the floor in Nathaniel's head. Andrew didn't know. He couldn't. Kevin wouldn't tell him. He wouldn't, Kevin was too much of a coward.
Nathaniel's smile flashed with anger. "You don't know me, Minyard."
"I don't have to. You bite the hand that feeds. A wild animal makes a cute pet until it draws blood." Andrew flicked his still lit cigarette at the ground. He didn't take dark eyes from Nathaniels "Then it gets put down. One way another."
Nathaniel hissed.
The sound from his own tongue sounded too much like Riko. It was how he knew when he'd managed to push the King past calculated retribution into wild rage. Riko's impulsive violence hurt, but Nathaniel didn't care about the pain as soon as it ended. He was easier to lead in the desperate mania.
It was a dangerous game they played but Nathaniel liked his gambles.
Nobody had ever managed to lead him before. He reeled in his anger, and mocked "What, so you're opening the cage?"
Andrew watched him from half- lowered lids. A look which was too much. "I haven't decided yet. You are a distraction to Kevin, nothing more."
The name drop of Kevin had to be intentional. A single mention of their treacherous deserter was enough to make any Raven boil. Blood had been shed over this but petty fights and harassment between fans was nothing compared to what was coming. Nathaniel stopped smiling. He leaned in and lowered his voice, “You don't know what you're asking for Minyard. They call you a monster but I think we both know who the real monsters are. I'll say it once. Back off.”
Nathaniel knew what Riko had dug up on the mad little goalkeeper. It was only a matter of time before he let it all come crashing into place. His warning was a real one. Andrew's look said he knew. They said he didn't care.
And that in turn said he didn’t really know.
Warning him at all had been a kindness the prideful nobody didn't deserve. Nathaniel wouldn't do it again. He pulled back. “Enjoy him while it lasts.”
Andrew's answer was almost conversational, “Empty threats and sore losses. Not smart enough to read the room Wesninski. They cut your father, and you’re a wannabe version at best. How long, do you think, until you’ve overstayed your welcome?”
Nathaniel hit him. It wasn’t a calculated or intelligent move. He’d let the psychotic goalie win the moment he threw the punch, but it was too much. The mention of his fucking father was too much.
Andrew let his strike land - but his riposte rearranged the contents of Nathaniel’s stomach. He hit the ground retching and coiling in on himself. Through a haze of pain he heard Andrew’s bored goodbye, “North lot at ten. We’ll be out all night.”
For some reason before he left, Andrew Minyard scanned Nathaniel’s groceries and paid with his own card.
* * *
Jean accepted the replacement dinner with all the grace of a housecat being served the wrong brand of kibble. He spent long seconds studiously reading labels before Nathaniel took them away and read them out loud for him. Still unhappy, Jean stacked everything on the desk in neat rows, mumbling something about American grocery stores and processed foods that Nathaniel was too distracted to bother taking offense to.
It unfortunately did not take Jean’s hyperawareness long to notice Neil’s glances at the door or his watch, or the way he hadn’t taken off his shoes. He stopped unwrapping plastic silverware, “You are not going out again.” It was not a question.
Nathaniel paused. He didn’t lie to Jean so instead he said nothing. He didn’t have to watch to see the dawning horror on his partner’s face. Jean nearly knocked his chair over as he stood, “You are fucking not.”
Nathaniel shrugged, “I’ll be back.”
"Where are you going?"
"Out.”
That was too much. In two steps Jean slammed him into the wall. Nathaniel swallowed the visceral protest his bruised innards gave and looked back evenly, “Not forever Jean just. . . out.”
“Where.”
There was no good answer to this. Nathaniel tried to kill the spark of impulsive frustration. Jean deserved the truth.
Jean couldn’t handle the truth. If he knew Nathaniel was leaving him alone in favor of the man who stole Kevin from them. . .
“I was approached in the grocery store. Andrew Minyard wants to talk.”
Nathaniel was expecting the way Jean took that - like a knife to the heart. He saw the pain in his eyes, and the swing before it came.
He caught it. Jean was stronger than Nathaniel, but that would never matter. Jean followed orders and Nathaniel did not. Nathaniel clamped his wrist but he didn't hit back. He could see in his partner’s eyes how he was unravelling.
He abandoned the arm to grab his face "Jean. Jean look at me"
He did, because Jean followed orders. Nathaniel could see in his eyes the betrayal already there. The stubborn, miserable set of the way he was making himself believe Nathaniel would leave him too. Neil dug his nails into his partner’s cheeks like he could claw Jean back from wherever he went when Jean lost his mind.
He growled "Jean I'm coming back. I'm coming back, I will always come back."
He was slipping Nathaniel could see. The wild panic was numb and familiar in Nathaniel's beating heart. Jean had always come back from the brink before, back from the brink but each time the question thrilled, what if he didn't this time. What if this was what was too much.
It had been easier, when Kevin was here to cling tightly to the other side of Jean's leash. To bully, plead, and drag him back together, whatever it took.
Now it was Nathaniel, Jean, and the shadow of their volatile King, even in his direct absence.
His accent was thicker when Jean was upset, "No, because you're not leaving. I'll kill you first. I should have killed Kevin. You fucking should have killed Kevin."
He'd said it before. Because that was Nathaniel's role. A mad dog at the gate. Nobody got in, nobody got out.
Next time he wouldn’t hesitate.
But that wasn’t relevant. He pressed his nails into the four bold lines on Jean's cheek hard enough to scratch. Jean recoiled, the prospect of damage to the tattoo too much. Nathaniel followed. He grabbed his hair - not at all fair. Riko liked Jean's hair when he was in a particularly bad mood, but Nathaniel didn't play fair. The tug was too reminiscent of the familiar tear it pulled Jean right back to him and Nathaniel grabbed him tight crushing him against his body.
He held Jean until he stopped fighting. "I'm coming back.
"Youre lying." The crack in his voice almost shattered Nathaniel's resolve.
"Not to you. I don't lie to you."
Jean was quiet. Nathaniel knew he was biting his tongue. "Stop that."
"I can't be alone."
"Go downstairs. Play games with the rest."
"Riko -"
"King is gone. Even if he left The Master right now he couldn't be back by the morning. He'll never know I was gone."
"He'll come back."
"Not before I do."
"You won't have enough to come back to."
Nathaniel dug his nails into Jean's back in warning, voice hard. "Kevin is still alive,” He reminded him, “I am still alive."
Jean attempted to wrench away, he nearly made it but Nathaniel clung to his shirt and didn't let him go far. He yanked the collar, forcing his partner to stare into unyielding blue eyes.
There was blood on Jean's lips. He spat it in Nathaniel's face, anger made him raw. He was shaking.
Only Nathaniel was allowed to see him like this, "Kevin doesn't count. Not anymore."
"Dont fucking lie to me, Jean." Nathaniel didn't let go.
Jean bit his own cheek as hard as he could, opening healing lacerations. Blood bubbled at his lips. He didn't stop when Nathaniel shook him. He'd won, though. It was a bloody victory. They always were.
"Go downstairs."
"Gr-" Jean couldn't get the name out.
Nathaniel didn't let him, "Zane. Play cards with Zane and Colleen. Or eat while they play, I don’t care. Make Reacher walk you back to the room. Lock the door. Eat dinner, do homework, sleep. Jean - look at me. Promise me you wont let Reacher out of your fucking sight if you leave the room."
Jean stared with dark, sullen eyes. He’d slipped away. Wherever Jean went when he fell apart. "He won't."
"He will. They will. Until I get back."
Jean wrenched away and this time Nathaniel let him. He turned his back, broad shoulders braced for a blow he would anticipate for hours, no matter what Nathaniel promised him.
His last hollow line would haunt Nathaniel all fucking night, “Someday you won’t have much to come back to.”
They both knew he was right. But that didn’t mean Nathaniel would ever stop fighting it.
* * *
Andrew and a black car were waiting in the parking lot. None of the Ravens had left the building. They hadn’t needed to be told not to, only Nathaniel would have considered doing otherwise. It meant he wouldn’t have any witnesses as long as none of them were looking out the window.
Halfway across the parking lot, Nathaniel stopped dead. Because Andrew Minyard wasn't alone.
His short broad frame did little to hide the taller silhouette behind. Not when Nathaniel would recognize that body blind deaf and dumb in the world.
In any light in any context. Jean's voice - you should have killed Kevin.
Riko's aborted other half stared at him through caged green eyes.
Nathaniel stopped, "Fuck no."
Andrew didn't bother to acknowledge their staring contest, "Yes. Get in."
Nathaniel could feel the lip curling for the second time that day, “I’d congratulate you on growing a spine, Day, but you’ve just borrowed someone else’s. As usual.”
Kevin flinched. It was enough to stop Nathaniel from running his tongue again. He let the smile fade to consideration.
That would never have rocked Riko’s infamous, untouchable Kevin Day. Kevin didn’t flinch from things, he snapped back or he bulled forward like it didn’t exist. He only had those two reactions.
The ability to flinch was new. Nathaniel assessed his old companion. His botched responsibility.
Day was standing. His jaw was set, his eyes downcast. He wasn’t staring into the distance, or staring at anything. Nathaniel saw the way he held his left hand close to his body. A crippled bird.
He didn’t know if this feeling was pity, anger, or rage. The bravest thing Kevin had ever done was the most cowardly act Nathaniel could imagine.
You should have killed him. Instead he had let him go.
Hoping for fucking what, exactly? To ruin them all? There was no happy ending for the perfect court. There was only the game, and that thin window of success where they could all be something, despite their family names. If they doubled down, endured, and did nothing which deviated from that light at the end of the tunnel.
It was Riko who broke first. Of course it had been. If only Kevin had held on. If only he hadn't panicked the moment he saw his brother fracture -
If The Master hadn’t forced their hands -
Nathaniel didn’t want to think through this again. Now the court was crippled but limping, and Day was a loose end. Death would have been a mercy, now he was a shadow of his old self. He shouldn’t have survived this long on his own, that must be Andrew’s fault.
Neither of them would make it much longer, not after what Riko had planned for this next year.
There was nothing on the other side of Evermore’s walls and Day was proof. Nathaniel was here to finalize that with Andrew.
Because Nathaniel was fucking incapable of letting well enough alone. He should be back in the room with Jean. How could he tell Riko to leave Kevin behind when he was just as obsessed with what could have been.
Instead of doing anything remotely intelligent Nathaniel got into the damn car.
The rest of the seat was blessedly empty, the rest of the Monster’s trailing groupies elsewhere for once. Kevin wordlessly followed into the front seat and Andrew into the driver’s side. Nathaniel didn’t ask where they were going and nobody spoke. Andrew cranked the radio until it blasted something which sounded both angrier and sadder than Nathaniel had ever imagined a song could be. Colombia rolled by outside.