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“Help him,” was all Jesper could manage as he thundered through the doors of the Slat, Wylan curled and trembling in his arms, soaked to the bone with blood. “Help him.”
There was a beat, a moment’s silence as wide eyes blinked back at them, taking in Jesper, panting and shaking, assessing Wylan, dripping red, and then the room sprang into action.
It wasn’t uncommon for someone to stumble into the Slat late at night, bloodied and bruised, or with something broken. The Dregs, like most Barrel gangs, had a number of seasoned mediks on standby who had seen their fair share of injury, the designated room of which Jesper had just burst into.
Within the room already there were familiar faces - Nora, a knowledgeable new recruit, wrapping a bandage around Anika, with two other part-time mediks filtering around nearby. Kaz was there, speaking with Anika, most likely relaying details from the job she’d just returned from. Jesper felt his heart sink when he noticed Sonia, the Grisha healer who’d recently become indebted to Kaz one way or another, wasn’t present.
Thankfully, only a split second passed where Jesper allowed himself to feel worry, before Nora sprang to action.
Leaping to her feet, she quickly barked orders to the others, who began clearing her table fast. Jesper hobbled forward and gently laid Wylan down. He hit the table with a hiss, fist still tangled and clawing in Jesper’s coat, his own drenched in blood.
“What happened?” Kaz snapped as Nora tore open Wylan’s shirt. Jesper’s stomach turned as the wound was revealed, and he forced his eyes back to Wylan’s pale face.
It was too quick.
They were on a job, so short and simple that it had only been the two of them, to a bar for a typical night of talking people’s ears off and prying names from drunk lips. They had been on the edge of vital information when Jesper had been recognised by a rival gang member, completely intoxicated, and quickly things had escalated beyond their control.
After a short brawl Jesper and Wylan had slipped out of, they found themselves hurrying out in a stampede of people and sprinting down the nearest alleyway. They’d gotten about halfway down when the first shot rang out. A few drunken bullets shot in the night were nothing unusual for the Barrel, so Jesper had twisted around, managed to squeeze a few shots back to keep their pursuers off their tail, and carried on out of the alley.
They’d slipped into a bustling street, and Jesper had grabbed Wylan’s hand to keep him close as they began weaving their way through, the chattering passers-by covering their tracks.
It was only when they’d reached the other end of the street, Jesper’s heart racing a little from the adrenaline of the chase, did he turn around to Wylan.
“You okay?” He asked a little breathlessly.
He got his answer before Wylan could reply. The colour was completely drained from his pale face, curls sticking to his forehead. He swallowed, swayed a little on his feet, and Jesper instinctively drew closer, grabbing hold of his waist.
When Jesper’s left hand tightened, the right coming away slick with red, hot blood, he couldn’t think of a lot of moments in his life where he had felt worse.
“Wylan,” Jesper whispered in horror.
“Jesper,” Wylan rasped back, before his eyes began to widen, and Jesper knew they had to move.
They’d hurried through the winding streets until Wylan began to hobble. A few streets down from the Slat Wylan stopped altogether, a pained mewl escaping from his throat. Jesper had swept him into his arms, breaking into a run.
Jesper wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t checked on Wylan immediately after the gunshot. No matter the outcome of the night, he felt himself already obsessing over that detail.
“He got shot.” Jesper’s voice broke.
Nora exhaled slowly, but her next words were patient and directed at Wylan.
“This is going to hurt,” she warned, before pressing down on the wound.
Wylan’s reaction was instant. His back arched and he began writhing in pain, a hissing noise being pulled out through his gritted teeth.
“Hold him down,” she nodded at one of the other mediks in the room. Wylan cried out in protest as he drew nearer, and Jesper rushed to his side instead.
“I’ve got him,” the words came out much sharper than he’d intended, and the medik retreated, looking sheepish.
“I’ve got you,” Jesper whispered to Wylan, leaning down as much as he could without disrupting the mediks crowding around Wylan’s abdomen.
“Ghezen,” Wylan continued to thrash. “Oh, shit.”
“I know,” Jesper’s heart was racing. Wylan’s panic was amplifying his own, and he hoped the fear didn’t come through his voice. If his words couldn’t calm Wylan down, he wasn’t quite sure what he could do, and that was a terrifying thought. “Oh, I know, love, but it’s going to be okay. You just have to stay still.”
“I can’t,” Wylan’s pain was bleeding into his voice, and Jesper could feel his heart break in his chest.
“Get Sonia,” Kaz barked at someone, Anika, Jesper thought, and she hurried out of the room as Nora continued her efforts beside them. Jesper’s attention was solely on Wylan, whispering muffled consolations into his hair, one hand on his shoulder to gently keep him still.
Jesper was no stranger to shootings.
Since before Jesper was old enough to help his father in the fields, his mother had taught him how to shoot. He still remembered her joyful laughter every time he’d hit a new target, the beam of pride she’d give him as he mastered each step, graduating from a child’s pellet gun to pistols.
He knew everything about shootings, regarded the anatomy of a gun with the same familiarity as he would his arms and legs, each movement as recognisable as his own hearbeat - the squeeze of the trigger, the arc of the bullet. Sometimes, when one of his shots hit a target, he could almost imagine he could feel the impact.
It was his deep familiarity with the situation that made his uncertainty now so terrifying. With Wylan twitching in his arms, beautiful face screwed up tight and everything below his neck stained deep red, Jesper felt like he was a child again, the echoes of his first shot ringing out as he looked to Ma for a nod of affirmation.
Wylan hissed in a breath and his eyes flew open. Jesper swallowed his panic thickly, catching the shaking hands Wylan threw out blindly in his own.
“I’ve got you,” Jesper whispered as Wylan shook from effort, jaw clenched. “Shh, Wy.” Wylan’s breathing was becoming laboured, and despite his best efforts, Jesper’s mind was racing, thinking of the worst. A part of him wondered with a sinking feeling if it was due to his memories of Ma springing to mind. He didn’t want to think about it.
His thoughts were interrupted by one of the healers looking up sharply. “Where’s Sonia?” He barked.
“Who knows?” Kaz sounded murderous as he scrubbed a gloved hand down his jaw. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” the young medik was quick to assure, “But with or without her, we have to start soon.”
“Start?” Jesper’s voice was hoarse.
"The bullet is still lodged," another medik spoke. "Before Sonia can heal the wound, it needs to be removed."
“We don’t need her to be here for that, do we?” Wylan, who’d been panting soundlessly, attempted to pull himself up. The mediks began to swarm him immediately, and Jesper drew impossibly closer, leaning him gently back down while warding them off.
“No,” Kaz flexed his fingers. “But without her to lower your heartbeat, you’ll be awake for everything.”
Jesper looked down at Wylan. His face had gone impossibly still. “Right,” he whispered, and Jesper knew he wasn’t quite processing the information.
“We can’t wait,” Nora said briskly, rolling up her sleeves. “She’ll be here soon, Wylan.” The other mediks gathered nearby, expressions of determination on their faces.
“Jesper,” Wylan spoke his name once. Jesper rearranged himself, tightening his grip on Wylan in response, knowing that in a few minutes, he’d be tasked with holding him down. The closeness was all Wylan needed, it seemed, and with a curt nod, Nora began digging into him.
The bullet may as well have been Jesper’s.
The thought struck him as Wylan flew backwards, a guttural scream tearing itself free from his gritted teeth.
Jesper was no stranger to shootings. By the time he was five years old he’d shot more perfect targets than he could count. When a bullet was released from his pearl-handled revolvers it felt like an extension of Jesper himself, like he’d shot one of his own limbs out to strike true. He’d been in street brawls, and shootouts, and dodged enough stray bullets to last him a lifetime.
Jesper had met Wylan in the depths of the Barrel on a rowdy night. Neither of them were new to this world, and yet Jesper had always viewed Wylan as something outside of this life, someone who shouldn’t wind up on the wrong end of a gun. Wylan being hurt was not something Jesper thought he could ever grow accustomed to, and neither were the tumultuous feelings it brought him.
It didn’t matter what Jesper thought shouldn’t happen to Wylan, it had happened to Wylan, and Jesper hadn’t even noticed until they were halfway along the street.
It would’ve been less painful if Jesper had been the one shot, if he was the one bleeding out on the table. It may as well have been Jesper’s fucking bullet.
Another terrible scream was forced from Wylan’s throat, and Jesper felt his stomach turn violently. Leaning down, he pressed his head as gently as he could manage to Wylan’s hair.
“It’s okay. I’m so sorry,” he whispered as Wylan continued to choke on his screams.
Wylan writhed, pained sounds being drawn out again and again.
“Hold him down,” came Kaz, when Wylan jerked violently and Nora drew in a breath.
Jesper felt a burning wave of annoyance crash over him, tearing his eyes off Wylan to glare up at Kaz, who was standing at the other end of the table, jaw set. Wylan took the opportunity to tear himself free of his grasp with a sob and a garbled cry.
“Shit,” Nora hissed as she leaped backwards, a blood soaked instrument glinting in her hands.
“Wylan,” Jesper’s hand reached out to cup his face, the other one shakily pressing his shoulder down. “Please, love, you have to stay still.”
“I can’t,” tears filled Wylan’s eyes, and Jesper felt every inch of his heart shatter.
“I know it hurts darling,” Jesper fought to keep his voice steady as Wylan continued to shake his head, chest heaving, “But you have to let me keep you still.” His voice broke, and he internally cursed himself. The mediks and their overlapping whispers or the feeling of Kaz’s eyes boring into his back weren’t helping matters.
Wylan’s eyes fluttered shut. Jesper gently placed a hand on each shoulder, and Nora’s instrument dipped down.
The screams started again.
They filled the room, harsh and unnatural, the furthest possible sound from Wylan’s usual melodic tone. They pierced Jesper’s heart and rattled around his head, reverberating deep in his bones. With every scream he felt the bile rise in his throat, every agonising cry a reminder of Jesper’s failure to protect him.
“I’m sorry,” Jesper didn’t give a damn about the mediks anymore, or Kaz’s lurking frame. “I’m so sorry, darling.”
The apologies continued in a babbling string of mumbles, whispered over and over until Wylan shook his head ferociously. “Shut up Jes, it’s not your fault,” he dug out, and Jesper knew the effort it had taken him to form those words, and his heart broke even more.
He opened his mouth to respond when Wylan’s eyes widened and a violent noise escaped his mouth.
“Fuck,” Jesper spat, turning to Kaz. “Where the fuck is Sonia?”
“She’ll be here soon,” was the short reply, but Jesper sensed his own agitation mirrored in Kaz’s face.
“He needs someone, anyone, anything,” Jesper continued. “He can’t have a fucking bullet dug out of him like this-”
“No,” a garbled cry. Wylan. “No.”
“Wy,” Jesper pleaded. “When Sonia comes, she’ll make you unconscious-”
“No,” he gripped Jesper’s shirt with sudden desperation. “Jesper.”
“Wylan,” Jesper’s heart was hammering. “You can’t go through this this way.” I can’t see you go through this this way. Jesper swallowed the words down.
“Jesper,” Wylan’s voice was hoarse, his eyes locked on Jesper’s, boring deep into them. “Don’t let her.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jesper shook his head.
Wylan almost smiled, tilting his head. “I know. Don’t let her.”
“Wylan-”
“Jesper, please.”
“You can’t-”
“Jesper please.”
Hearing Wylan beg with such fervour and such fear was almost frightening. Jesper had no doubt he was delirious with pain, head swimming and nerves heightened because Wylan would never beg like that, in front of so many people, voice broken and pained. It sprung Jesper into action.
“Alright,” he stroked Wylan’s sweat soaked hair back from his brow and nodded, no matter how much it destroyed him to agree. “Alright, darling.”
“I’ll stay awake,” Wylan added for emphasis, though his voice had lost its pleading tone.
Jesper nodded, turning away quickly as his eyes began to burn.
“What’s wrong?” Kaz was asking the mediks. Jesper could see now he was restless, though whether it was due to Sonia’s lack of punctuatility or Wylan’s screams, Jesper couldn’t guess. They began explaining back to him, and Wylan’s head dropped free from Jesper’s soft touch, hitting the table with a curse.
Jesper spun back instantly, offering feeble caresses and ramblings, but Wylan was too far gone. His skin was horribly pale, his lips losing colour, his eyes glazing over. He released a weak groan with every press and prod to his wounds. Jesper thought with horror that he was growing too weak to scream.
“Hurry,” Nora ordered one of the mediks behind him, and Jesper’s blood turned to ice. Whipping his head around, he took in the scene before him - the three mediks digging into Wylan’s wound, trying to move fast but stay precise, with one of them at all times mopping up the blood that kept spilling, soaking through everything they tried to stem it with.
“Jesper,” Wylan sobbed. “Jesper.”
Jesper was wrenched from his thoughts, rushing to Wylan’s side.
“I’m here, love.”
“Jesper - Jesper.” Wylan pulled himself up as much as he could and, leaning in, uttered the words, “Take it out.”
The entire room stilled. Jesper’s beating heart froze. With Wylan’s face so close he could see his own stunned expression reflecting back, blinking dumbly, mouth agape.
Searching for his voice, Jesper blinked furiously. “Wylan.” Wylan nodded, and Jesper released a breath that could’ve been a shaky laugh if the situation wasn’t so dire.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Wylan. But there were things he couldn’t do.
“I can’t do that, love,” and though it was the truth, admitting those words stung hard. They were the final piece of evidence to prove Jesper’s uselessness. He hadn’t noticed Wylan had been shot. He hadn’t been able to help him through the pain. He couldn’t use his powers to help him when he wanted, when he needed, when he asked.
Wylan only nodded again.
“I can’t. My Ma-” Jesper’s voice broke. How did he attempt to justify his incompetence? My Ma died before she could teach me. At what point did that stop becoming an excuse? The truth was, he knew how to bleach the colour from jurda and break his way out of a lock. Years of hiding who he was meant that now, removing the bullet from Wy’s abdomen without killing him would be nothing short of a miracle. If he’d been taught, if he knew how to handle his powers, if he could do anything, he’d be able to try. His thoughts turned to Ma again. Even with her skill, with her knowledge of her powers, even her attempts to do what was right had taken her life.
“You can,” Wylan always seemed to see a version of Jesper that wasn’t there, a version who could do anything he set his mind to. Sometimes, he thought he had the same all-encompassing faith in Jesper that he had once had in Ma, before her abilities had failed to protect her. He tried to speak, to tell Wylan the truth. He would do anything for him, but this he couldn’t. He knew how to put bullets in, what he couldn’t do was take them out. He didn’t have that much control over his powers - to trust himself to do it right, to do with well, not to hurt Wy, not to kill Wy -
“She would be so proud of you.” One of Wylan’s blood-soaked hands came up, trembling, to cup Jesper’s face.
“Wy,” Jesper whispered. He knew the mediks must be staring. Unaware of his abilities, they probably thought Wylan was delirious.
“You can,” Wylan whispered.
“I can’t,” Jesper stammered. “I don’t know how.”
“You know how,” Wylan nodded.
“I don’t trust myself,” the words came out in a garbled hiss, sudden and painful and disgustingly vulnerable.
“I trust you.” Wylan’s voice shook with effort in response. Jesper leaned back with a swallow.
Wy wouldn’t give up. He knew he wouldn’t. Jesper thought he might love him.
Keeping their eyes locked, Jesper turned his face to the hand cupping it and, ever so gently, pressed a feather light kiss to the inside of Wylan’s wrist. He watched as Wylan tilted his head to the side, releasing a slow breath, big eyes softening, and then he stood.
He made his way down to the wound, the mediks stumbling out of the way. In the corner of his eye he saw Nora open her mouth, and could blurrily make out the look Kaz shot her. No matter how hard Jesper’s heart was beating at the thought of this, if there was one thing he knew, it was that his secret would be safe. Kaz and whatever threats he had prepared would make sure of it.
He raised his hands over Wylan’s body, and turned slightly so he didn’t have to see awareness dawn on the mediks’ faces.
“Wylan,” Jesper said as he reached out for the target. “If you need me to stop, you say stop.”
“When I say stop,” Wylan nodded, and Jesper couldn’t help but frown, because Wylan may as well have told him screaming doesn’t count.
Jesper’s fingers flexed and stilled, and his thoughts went to his parents. His mother who’d died before she could teach him about his powers, and his father who’d taught him never to use them. Despite the love he held for him, Jesper thought too often about how different his life would be if his father had viewed Jesper’s abilities like his mother had.
It’s not a gift. It’s a curse.
There wasn’t any time to dissect what life could’ve been if Ma had lived, if Jesper had gone to Ravka, if anything had been different. Jesper only had what he had now, his two hands and his boyfriend bleeding out on a table.
You know how, Wylan had said. Jesper remembered the day he’d discovered he could leach the colour out of jurda all by himself, lying in his father’s fields.
He found the target - maybe it was because it was a bullet, and following bullets was a sensation Jesper was used to. Maybe he’d always been using his powers a bit, as he marked a bullet’s journey.
Jesper’s fingers curled in, and he knew the bullet had moved even before Wylan had gasped.
Alright, Jesper thought to himself as he attempted to hide his shock that it was working, not wanting to get ahead of himself. Wylan’s pained breathing was a constant reminder of how dangerous any sort of mistake would be.
His mother had been dead when he’d leached the jurda. The thought wouldn’t leave him. He’d done it all by himself, and done it well enough to bleach a swear word in his father’s field - and give him a heart attack. The jurda hadn’t been attatched to a living body, a dark voice in his head added, and Jesper wished he could turn off his brain.
His eyes went to Wylan’s, for the briefest of moments. In the few seconds they met his he registered the pain, the restlessness, the trust. Wylan was choosing to put his entire faith in Jesper, and he was not about to let him down again.
“I’m sorry, love,” Jesper whispered as he caught the bullet again, and pulled.
Wylan’s head flew back with an blood-curdling scream. The mediks ran to take Jesper’s place immediately, holding him down, and the sight fueled him with the urgency to continue.
The bullet may as well have been Jesper’s. Wylan’s screams were relentless, a never ending stream of agony, to the point where the small part of Jesper’s brain that wasn’t occupied on the bullet started to wonder if he was going to run out of breath.
“Keep going,” Wylan managed to scream as Jesper faltered, and he tightened his grip. Sweat was pouring down Jesper’s face, down his back, in his eyes. There was only him and Wylan and the bullet, everything else fading away into a dim blur.
The bullet may as well have been Jesper’s, so he was going to take it out or die trying. Delirious, Jesper thought at one point that it might. The bullet’s slow journey he’d been tracking was smooth, but his hands were beginning to shake. He knew a Grisha using their power was supposed to make them stronger, but he also knew he hadn’t been ready for such a task, and it was draining him. He only noticed he was screaming when his and Wylan’s became indistinguishable.
Memories flew past his eyes in flashes. His mother stroking his hair one evening as they waited for his father to come home from the fields, whispering soft words. “Little rabbit.” His father coming home and his mother taking his face in her hands with a kiss, before they both gave Jesper a warm hug. Newer memories, too. He saw Inej, long dark hair in the moonlight, laughing silently at one of his jokes. He saw Wylan, he felt Wylan, as if he were kissing him now, as if he could only smell his hair and not his blood, and drank in the adoration from his eyes. The unwavering trust he saw in them when he last dared to look.
Saving Wylan was nothing short of a miracle, and Jesper had always lived on luck. Zowa. Blessed. His mother’s voice. He felt the bullet breaking the surface, as if it was his skin too. Maybe Jesper had a miracle or two inside of him.
The sounds around him were fading, his vision blurring at the edges, but Jesper didn’t lose his focus until he saw the bullet, glinting like a flipping coin as it caught the light, and didn’t accept his victory until he stumbled over to the pale face and heard the voice.
“Jesper.”
Jesper could barely see or hear him, but he took him in and nearly cried with relief. How Wylan could still speak was beyond him, and he took the pale face in his hands and gave him a lopsided kiss.
“Wylan.” Jesper’s ears were ringing. The mediks were jabbering like a sqawking bunch of pigeons, mopping blood and taking the bullet far, far away. The door was opening behind them. Jesper had barely any relief left in him when he realised it must be Sonia, so he just let himself be lowered to the ground next to Wylan, head drooping.
Their sweaty, bloody hands reached out in the turmoil and grasped each other. Jesper’s vision was gone. He leaned his forehead on what he assumed was Wylan’s arm, gripping the hand tight, relishing the feel of the strong pulse.
“I love you.” The words fell out of Jesper’s mouth, muffled and murky like he was underwater. He was slipping, already half unconscious when Wylan’s fingers gave the back of his hand two steady taps. The last thing he remembered before they both passed out, resting at last, was the smile spreading across his face as he understood the message.
I love you too.