Notes: I said I was going to finish this before Christmas, and I will! I never specified which Christmas it was going to be.
Notes 2: Seriously though, I'm sorry this is late and rushed, but I meant well?
People have no choice but to be born. They have no control over it. Instead they need to make do with what they get in order to become something that was always in their design but never in their hands. No one taught Silver this quite like his father.
"You need to fight fire with fire," he told Silver once, watching his empire of ashes and broken futures devour everything around it; standing tall and rigid and pitch-black.
"I understand," Silver answered and meant, "I'm afraid to be your fire."
Meant, "You're the bone and I'm the flesh, but I'll gnaw myself off of you if I have to."
x
Giovanni's death is a fast burn licking at the hollow places in the back of Silver's throat, filling his mouth with the sour fumes of rotten promises.
Grief.
What a joke.
x
"C-Crys," Gold stutters, voice cracking. "What happened? Do you — I'll get the first aid kit." He heads for the door, halts in the frame and turns around, hard and tense — a cocked gun ready to blow —, and says, "Silver, watch her while I'm gone and see that she doesn't lose too much blood."
With that he's gone.
Meanwhile, Crystal has sunk down on the floor, clutching the right side of her torso with her good — better hand. Silver sits down beside her and stares helplessly at the terrifying amounts of blood flooding her clothes.
"Um, I-I," he stammers, close to short-circuiting. "What do I —"
"My stomach," Crystal grinds out. "The biggest wound is on my stomach. Here on the right. Help me press down on it."
Silver does as he's told. He's hesitant at first, brushing over the soaked fabric of her shirt, but then she pushes his hand down with hers. She winces at the pain of the compression, her face distorts horribly, and Silver has no idea how to make it better, but he's not letting go. He's been useless for so long, inexperienced and scared and locked in his own cage of ignorance and blame. He's sick of the looks he gets when he walks through the endless corridors of the HQ his father built once upon a heritage, the whispers and the taunts, are you sure that's him he doesn't look like the boss at all oh what a terrible shame.
(What is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh, what is —)
He will not be the extension of his father's construction of a regnum. He will not be the shadow of a man who abandoned his humanity for the thrill of a game. He will not let this girl die.
For another agonizing minute, Silver keeps holding her. Then Gold is back, all stormy movement and ragged breath, and starts the treatment.
"Keep her still," he says, pouring disinfectant onto a sterilized cloth from a first aid box.
Silver obeys and takes ahold of Crystal's arms.
"Okay, Crys," Gold says with a constricted smirk. "This'll sting a bit."
Crystal barks staccato huffs of laughter. "Oh, please, you're a bigger pain in the ass than this scratch could ever be."
"Macho girl," Gold teases, but his smile is gone.
x
As promised, Crystal takes the cleaning of her wounds with an astonishing amount of bravado, not even so much as hissing whenever the cloth touches her flesh and broken skin. Silver admires her composure although he doesn't quite understand what she's even trying to prove with it, or why.
After exhausting ten minutes Gold puts the cloth aside and starts bandaging her stomach.
"Shouldn't you have done this from the start?" Silver asks, wrecking his mind to recall anything he learned about first aid once.
"Idiot," Gold barks, not looking up. "I know she's lost a lot of blood, but we can't risk an infection. I already called up a friend to bring us some blood transfusions, he should be here in an hour or two, so shut up and don't distract me."
"We know what we're doing," Crystal adds, smiling weakly up at Silver. "It's not the first time, don't worry."
Silver has no choice but to nod and keep watching the two of them because that's all he can do, and they're the ones calling the shots, anyway — or in Crystal's case, taking them.
x
The ensuing hour is one of the longest in Silver's life. Crystal keeps bleeding, and Gold keeps staring at the floor, head between his knees, unblinking.
It's close to eight when someone knocks at the back door of the bar. Gold shoots up and down the stairs. Silver hears muffled voices, followed by heavy footsteps. Gold enters the room backwards, carrying a large white box together with a tall pink-haired man Silver could swear he has seen before. They set the box down next to Crystal who's smiling at them both, strained but stable.
The pink-haired stranger opens the box and starts fumbling with needles and tubes.
"Can't you go a little faster?" Gold asks, eyes flitting back and forth between him and Crystal.
The man clicks his tongue. "If you want me to do a decent job, then quit yapping. How did this even happen? Did you try to export fake poké balls again? I told you that would get you in trouble sooner or later. I can't believe Crys still puts up with you."
"Shut up," Gold snaps, eyes red and large. "If you want to blame somebody, blame him."
"'Him'?" The man glances up, notices Silver and casts Gold a puzzled look. "Who's he? Did he do this to her?"
"He's Giovanni's son," Gold says coldly. "He asked us to help him with Team Rocket now that his father is dead."
"Ah." The man nods as if that's a perfectly sensible explanation, shrugs and goes back to his work. "Shove over and let me do this."
Gold complies. The man inches closer to Crystal, sprays antiseptic on the crook of her left arm and presses the needle with the cannula he's been preparing into the vein there, letting the blood flow from the transfusion into her body.
"Is she going to get better?" Silver asks and regrets it instantly.
Gold glares at him. The man gives him a measuring but otherwise neutral look.
"Probably, yeah," he says, and suddenly Silver remembers why he recognizes him.
"You look like Nurse Joy," he blurts out.
The man stares at him, dumbfounded. Behind him Crystal huffs a quiet laugh through her nose. "Yes, I do," the man agrees, still baffled. "I didn't think you'd notice it on your own."
"Huh?"
"Most people don't. I'm the only male nurse in our family right now, and I work at a hospital, not a pokémon center."
Eying the white box warily, Silver muses, "I probably shouldn't ask if what you're doing here is even legal."
The man, Nurse Joy, snorts. "You're the heir to a mafia syndicate, your very existence scratches at the borders of legality. Besides, I owe these two a favor."
"Damn right you do," Gold cuts in.
"Be quiet, all of you," Crystal groans, regaining a marginally more human complexion. "You're giving me a headache."
x
"Let her sleep, then give her two of these and two hours later some antibiotics. I'll check up on her again sometime tomorrow. I don't know when, though, the hospital's in an uproar right now. There's a nasty flu going around."
Once Joy's left, Gold lets out a heavy sigh and shuffles toward the stairs. Silver sympathizes with him, he's just as drained, but there's still something he has to do.
"I'm sorry," he says, stopping Gold midway.
"Can it," Gold says, shoulders tense.
"No." Silver steps forward out of the foyer into the shadows of the corridor. "No, I won't. I'm sorry for what happened, and I want to thank you for what you and Crystal have done for me. That's why I want us to get along, if you want to keep working with me. If you want me to leave because of what happened, that's fine, I just — I just wanted to say this."
Laughing voicelessly, Gold turns around. "What made you grow a backbone all of a sudden, Little Red?" The darkness of the unlit hall makes him look a lot younger than he really is. Younger, and more human.
"It's Silver," Silver says out of habit.
"I know," Gold says, done in. He trots over to Silver, lingering just in front of him, and rests his forehead on Silver's left shoulder. Silver thinks he might be crying. "I know."
x
They put up a makeshift bed in Crystal's room so they can stay with her during the night. Silver slumps down on it first, bone-tired. When Gold joins him after checking up on Crystal one last time, he doesn't even manage to procure the willpower to complain that Gold is too close, sliding next to him seemingly without a second thought, one piece of human shrapnel cutting against the other.
Before falling asleep, Silver can't help but wonder what will happen to him now, what will happen to them, but Gold is warm and impossibly familiar next to him, and—
The thought is gone.
x
"Are you insane?"
"I must be since I'm working with you," Crystal says point-blank, like it's not even a joke. She looks better than yesterday, if somewhat small and squished together in the cave of pillows and blankets Gold and Silver built around her.
"No," Gold disputes as if that's a proper argument.
"'No'?" Crystal repeats, voice rising. Silver shrinks back in his seat next to her. "You want to lock me up in here? Is that what you're saying?"
Gold grips his knees in a visible attempt to hold himself back. "If it's going to keep you from killing yourself, then yes."
Crystal groans. "I am not killing myself. Lugia, you're such a baby." Silver imagines she would have thrown up her hands for emphasis if she had been able to.
"Oh, yes!" Gold snaps and nearly falls off his chair. "Overturning a mafia army while mortally wounded sounds like an awesome and not in any way inane idea!"
Crystal gnashes her teeth. "Then what do you suggest we do, o glorious Gold?"
Gold doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, "You're out of your mind."
"And what about him?" She jerks her head in Silver's direction.
Silence.
Silver straightens in his seat. "It's okay," he says with as much authority as he can with two riled up professional criminals in front of him. "You don't have to do anything else. It's my fault you got hurt. I don't want either of you to put your life at stake for me anymore. I mean, even if you wanted to, we can't just go on with the mission as planned, the way things are now."
"It's really unfair that you're going to inherit Team Rocket." Gold coughs an empty laugh and buries his face in his hands. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about, Little Red."
"My name's not —" Silver stops himself, perplexed. A shudder pierces his guts, freezing him from the inside out. "What do you mean?"
Face still hidden, Gold seems disinclined to answer. Silver moves on to look at Crystal.
She drags in a deep breath. "It's — nice of you to say that you no longer want to endanger us, but it isn't just about that anymore. Do you think Team Rocket will just let it go that someone broke into one of their offices and tried to steal valuable information? It's not a matter about us attacking them now."
She exhales. Silver marvels at her ability to that; to just breathe when she's injured and maybe about to die. It requires his full strength to push even an ounce of oxygen into his lungs.
"In fact," she concludes, "it's astounding they haven't shown up already. I wonder what they're waiting for."
Gold looks up. "That one's easy," he says. "They're searching for Giovanni Jr. over here. Though I'm kind of disappointed they haven't made the connection between him and the break-in yet."
"Maybe they believe you merely wanted to get to them while they were still vulnerable, without someone leading them and all."
Gold's lip twitch. Silver feels his chest warm up again. "As fun as that would be, I doubt they'd think us reckless enough. Not that we couldn't do some proper damage."
"Also," Crystal adds wryly, "it wouldn't be worth the following gang war."
"Which we have to face anyway," Gold says, not unhappily.
Silver is glad the mood has gone from sullen to grimly optimistic, but that's not actually going to help them.
"We're going to protect you," he tells Crystal as brightly as he can manage.
Crystal squeaks with laughter. "You want to protect me? Darling, you better protect yourself. Remember, you're a bigger catch to them than me. Besides, I won't just sit here and watch you boys trip over your own feet while you try to work a gun."
Gold winces. "Crystal —"
"Oh, not this again." She looks at him, at them both, and Silver can see why Gold wants her safe so desperately. She's amazing in the purest sense of the word. With only the blink of an eye, she's able to inspire hope in Silver — something he always kind of avoided because it's the worst pain he knows, but she makes it look like a good thing. She makes him feel like he's someone worth keeping. Someone worth fighting for. "I will not be the damsel in distress, Gold, and you know that. I may not be at my best, but I'll be able to stay alive on my own, thank you very much."
Gold sighs, which only appears to tense him up more. "I guess we should start strategizing then, or we won't have any gifts ready for our guests."
x
They decide to set up a provisory camp in Crystal's room. While she works out a timetable for guard duty, Silver and Gold haul The Hatcher's entire arsenal of weapons upstairs and position it in an easily accessible manner without being in the way.
Some hours later, Silver regrets that he has never had to be in charge of household chores as he makes the clumsy attempt to peel some potatoes for dinner. Gold almost chokes on his own laughter. As it turns out, he has a special knack for cooking, and he does not pass up a single opportunity to rub it in Silver's face. He can't really muster up the energy to be angry with him, though. If anything, he's happy that Gold can crack jokes again, even when they're at his expense. Faintly, he wonders what that implies about himself.
"You're even more of a spoiled brat than I feared," Gold snickers for what Silver estimates is the fifteenth time already, cutting the peeled potatoes because he said he no longer trusts Silver with knives.
Before Silver can retort anything, there is a loud bang at the backdoor. Both he and Gold start. Gold jerks his head meaningfully, and Silver understands. They rush into Crystal's room to get each of themselves a weapon.
"Someone's at the door," Gold explains on their way out. "Stay up here."
"Ugh," Crystal says, but she's nodding.
Gold motions Silver to be quiet and leads the way downstairs, gun unlocked. It knocks again, even louder this time.
"Mew damn it," a familiar voice hollers from outside. It's the Nurse Joy from yesterday. "I know you're there, open up, for fuck's sake!"
Gold inches closer to the door. Silver is unsure whether to follow him or not.
"Are you alone?"
Outside Joy makes a frustrated noise. "Yes, for crying out loud. How much longer do you dipshits want to make me wait?"
Silver files away the mental note to never get on that guy's nerves.
Then, in the blur of a second, Gold pulls the door open and aims at Joy.
"What the hell," Joy shrieks. Silver concurs.
Scanning the backyard, Gold pulls Joy inside and shuts the door. He locks his gun and gives the two of them a flat look. "Why are you so surprised? My best friend is mortally wounded, the only backup I have is an inexperienced and, frankly, untalented child, and an entire mafia organization is out for my ass. If I don't assume everybody outside of this house is lying, I'm dead."
Joy clicks his tongue and shrugs. "Whatever, I'll go check up on Crys, if you don't mind."
"Just go," Gold says irritably. When Joy's gone, he finally takes note of Silver's quiet. "What is it? You look like you're about to bitch at me again."
"Yes, I am," Silver snarls, hand shaking around the handle of his weapon. He realizes he hasn't put up the safety yet. Once he's done so, he drops the gun, feeling slightly more comfortable, and starts to cry. It's pathetic and mortifying, but he can't help it. He hates having to know how to use a firearm. He hates that people are getting hurt because of him. He hates that his father is putting him through this. He's trying to be tough and callous, but it's hard when you're still just a teenager and must live with the feeling that the whole world is trying to hunt you down.
"Whoa, okay," Gold says, eyes wide, and actually backs away a bit. "What is going on?"
"You," Silver bawls, and it feels good. It feels like he's uncaging the words from a long period of imprisonment. "You keep calling me a child even though you're barely older than me. You think you're so much better than everyone else just because you're a master of bullshitting yourself through things. If you weren't such a dick, I think we could — we could become friends, but you always end up pushing me away. I don't get it. It's not like you're incapable of friendship. What is your problem with me?"
x
This is it. This is the part where it's all going to blow up in his face, as usual.
Gold sets down his gun. He doesn't want to have this conversation armed. He swallows. "I like you," he says.
Silver flinches as if the confession has had a physical impact on him, but he's not crying anymore. Gold takes what he can get.
"What?"
"I like you," Gold says again. It's strange to admit it. It's not the first time he's said it, but he's never meant it before. He hasn't imagined he ever would.
"You're lying," Silver accuses.
Gold can't really blame him for it. "No, I'm not."
"But —" Silver's breath hitches. "— you always do."
Oh.
Oh, Gold marvels at the pain in his chest. So that's what heartbreak is like.
For a long moment, he can't say anything. His insides feel like they're being wrung out. He would laugh at his own wretchedness if it didn't hurt so much. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels sorry for everyone he's screwed up like this.
"I'm sorry," he says eventually. "I'm sorry you think so, and, well, I can't really hold it against you. I do lie a shit ton, but I'm not lying now. I know I can't prove it to you. That's okay. I deserve this."
"Are you serious?" Silver stares at him in disbelief. "You've been a complete ass to me."
"That was kind of the point."
"I — what."
"I didn't know how to handle this any other way, so I just decided I might as well go along with the pigtail shtick."
"'Pigtail shtick'?" Silver asks cautiously.
"You know," Gold says vaguely. "The whole cliché that boys pick on the girls they like. Pulling their pigtails. You know."
"I'm not a girl," says Silver because, how could Gold forget, he's an emotionally challenged knucklehead whose childhood probably revolved around trying to learn how to be evil and developing daddy issues. Gold is mildly impressed he hasn't become a psychopath like Giovanni.
Nevertheless.
"Why would you think I hate you? I cried in front of you!"
"Yes, because that's obviously part of common courtship," Silver shoots back, and wow, he's gotten good at this fast. Gold probably shouldn't think that's hot, but he finds he doesn't really mind.
"Okay," he says, patience run dry (and also kind of turned on). "I fucked up, okay, fine. Are you going to kiss me or not?"
Silver flushes, and shit, scratch hot and make that scorching. That's what the inside of Gold's pants feels like, in any case.
"I don't even like you," Silver hedges, not meeting Gold's eyes.
Gold steps closer to him, cocking his head. "No?" he inquires innocently. Bending forward, he whispers into Silver's ear, "That's a shame."
Silver goes rigid but not in the way Gold planned.
"I'm afraid," he whispers. "I want to believe you, but I'm afraid."
Gold moves backwards so he's facing Silver, noses brushing. "You're killing the mood," he says and sighs. "I can't promise this is going to be good. Then I would be lying. I can only promise to make it worth your while. I've no experience in — feelings, but neither have you, so we're on even grounds here. We'll both be equally bad at it, so what the heck, just going for it won't hurt us." He hesitates. "Much."
Silver laughs, voice warm and familiar. How did that even happen? How did this angsty kid from Team Rocket push himself beyond Gold's emotional comfort zone just like that? It scares him, but the thrill of his fear only edges him on further.
Huh. Maybe he's more fucked up than he thought.
"You're not very reassuring," Silver grins, and Gold is struck with an epiphany.
He's shaking, damn it, he's shaking, as he places his hand on Silver's back and pulls him closer. Silver is still grinning, cheeks reddening, and Gold kisses him.
x
I will never want anyone as much as you.