Work Text:
“Exist! Exist! EXIST!” Leiot bellowed as he channeled more and more sorcery through his railgun at Hammond. He didn’t really want to fight the guy, but Hammond really wasn’t giving him a choice. This wasn't how he wanted things to end. He felt sorry for Hammond, losing his sister like that. It was one of the very few things he had in common with Hammond, outside of the fact that they were both tactical sorcerists. Hammond had said he didn't know how to move on, but damn it, he could have left Leiot out of this fool attempt at killing himself. The third blast did it. Three cartridges discharged from their places on Leiot’s chest, clattering to the floor, hissing steam. Hammond’s shield was gone, his Mold armor shattered. Leiot could see straight through his helmet to his blue eyes and blonde hair, what little of it wasn’t stained with dried blood.
As the other man struggled to his feet, Leiot rushed forward, using his railgun to knock Hammond’s away before he did something stupid like try to use it with a broken Mold. He pinned Hammond’s arm with his foot, railgun pointed in Hammond’s face.
“Go ahead then, Steinberg. Kill me.” Hammond turned his head away, eyes distant and tired. He didn’t even try to fight.
“Give it a rest, you idiot. If I wanted to kill you, I would have let you turn yourself into a Demon just now.” Leiot sighed. “Can’t you see your Mold is broken?”
Hammond’s eyes flicked back to him. Then they returned to their hollow, empty stare at the end of the barrel. “I don’t care. How am I supposed to keep going? My sister was all I had left.”
Leiot holstered his railgun. Hammond didn’t seem like he was going to fight anymore and honestly, Leiot didn't want to see that look as Hammond stared down the barrel. “Then find something else. Get a hobby.”
Hammond didn’t say anything, but his eyes snapped up to Leiot’s face, narrowing in anger. Good. Leiot just had to walk a fine line between keeping that fire in Hammond’s eyes burning and not pushing too hard.
“ You know, some annoying Inspector once told me that if I was going to lay down and die, I better live as hard as I could first. So I’m going to tell you the same damn thing. You think your sister would have wanted this for you? You think she’d want you to go turn yourself into a Demon?”
Some of the fire died in Hammond’s eyes. “She wanted me to quit. We had a fight over it the morning before…” Hammond choked, “this morning. God, it was only this morning.” Tears welled fresh in the other sorcerist’s eyes. “My God, Rachel…”
Damn it. If Hammond continued down that line of thinking, he’d just spiral. Already Leiot could see the wild look from earlier coming back. He fumbled for something else, something that would piss Hammond off enough to distract him. “Hey. You asked me if I killed the man who trained me. The one who saved you.”
Hammond’s eyes snapped back to him again. “Yeah,” he growled, posture tensing.
“I did. He was turning, and I shot him.”
Hammond’s eyes widened. Leiot could hear his breath catch in the echo from his helmet. “What?” He struggled to sit up. Leiot pulled his foot away, but kept an eye on Hammond’s hands and railgun.
“Something went wrong with his Mold. This Mold. Right after he saved you, he came back to me. We were supposed to head back to the carrier so I could help him take his Mold off, but he started turning instead.” The sight still haunted him all these years later. Demons didn't usually bother Leiot anymore, but that had been different. He had still mostly looked like himself.
Hammond’s eyes focused on him, well and truly distracted. For now. “Why didn’t you just say that before?!”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“I—” Hammond frowned, “I don’t know.”
Leiot sighed. “You didn’t want to like me, Hammond. You never did. Give tactical sorcerists a bad name and all that.”
“You do.” Hammond grunted as he hauled himself up.
“Then I guess we need sorcerists like you settle the score, don’t we?”
Hammond grunted again, though he didn’t look convinced.
Leiot prodded a little harder. Those eyes were looking just a tad too far-away for Leiot's liking. “Besides, we’re stretched thin as it is. Oddman is still out there. If you die, I have to pick up the slack. I don’t want to work that hard.”
Hammond gave a noise of disgust. When he went for his railgun, Leiot tensed, hand going for his own. Maybe he'd overdone it with that one.
Hammond just holstered it. “I hate you, Steinberg. One day the Bureau is going to lock you up so tight you never see the light of day again.”
Leiot shrugged, “So you've said. Once Oddman is taken care of and they don’t need me anymore, I'm sure they'll start looking at rogue tactical sorcerists again.” He didn’t care if Hammond hated him. Maybe if he had someone to hate, he would keep going. “Maybe you can be at the forefront of that. Inspire those kids, train some to be like you. Get me locked up tight.” That seemed to spark something. Great. Him and his big mouth. Leiot sighed. “In any case, you can’t get me locked up if you’re dead.”
“Reegs and his buddies are dead.”
“You think there’s not more cells? More people willing to extort the public?”
Hammond looked away, deflating, “What does it matter anyway? I can’t save anyone.”
God, he wished this guy would give him a break. Leiot wasn’t good at this comforting shit. He never had been. “No. You can’t save everyone. But you can save someone. Go find a hotel and sleep this off. Get a bottle of something strong if you need to. Don’t go home. In the morning, go talk to Inspector Simmons. Get a job from her. Go be someone’s hero. If you still want to go home, lay down and die after that, fine. But don’t drag me into it.”
Hammond gave him an odd look, but then nodded. “Fine.”
“Good man.”
—
“Mr. Steinberg! Mr. Hammond!” Inspector Simmons called as she jogged over to where they were walking out. “Is everything alright? There was a lot of gunfire.”
“Everything’s fine.” Leiot lied. “Just took a little bit more to take out the demon.” He could tell she didn’t buy it by the way she looked over Hammond’s ragged appearance suspiciously.
“Everything is fine, Inspector.” Hammond lied, tone falsely cheery. “I got in the way of one of his shots by accident.”
“That’s horrible! Mr. Steinberg, you really should be more careful! You could have killed Mr. Hammond, or worse!”
“It was an accident!” Leiot scoffed, voice rising a few octaves in protest. Save the guy’s life and that was the lie he went with? Simmons was going to be on his ass for weeks! “C’mon Kapel, let’s go home.”
“Yes, of course.” The young woman gave a curt nod, her tone its usual stoic monotone.
“Remember what I said, Hammond!” Leiot called as he climbed into the back of his Mold carrier. The doors sealed up before he could hear Hammond’s reply.