Broken Pieces
Summary:
"It's been weeks since you've started your search. Weeks since you last saw Silco. Weeks since he went to the river with Vander, on a stormy night just like this, and never came back. The only evidence of him ever being there being the slash across Vander's forearm. With a guilty look on his face, so out of character for the Hound, he told you you'd never see your lover again, that he was gone. But you know better than that. You know him better than that. He wouldn't have gone down so easily. Not him. Not the rebel you fell for so many years ago, and to whom you promised to never part from."
Pairing: Silco x gn!Reader
Word count: 2.4k
Rating: general audiences
Content warning: light descriptions of wounds and infection, mentions of blood, knives
Fluff and angst ahead
You can also find the fic on AO3!
This is a special Valentine's gift for my friend @sailorsun546! Happy Valentine's Day, May, I love you so much🩷🩷🩷
Also a special thank you to @yu-xi for beta reading this fic! It wouldn't be half as good without your help!
Without further ado, happy reading everyone!
The sky growls and roars, lightning bolts flash in between massive dark clouds, shaking you to the core with every boom reverberating in the air. The rain hits your skin like bullets, soddening you from head to toe, but you don’t dare to stop and go back. You can't, not when you're so close. Not even the cold penetrating deep in your bones can hold you back.
It's been weeks since you've started your search. Weeks since you last saw Silco. Weeks since he went to the river with Vander, on a stormy night just like this, and never came back. The only evidence of him ever being there being the slash across Vander's forearm. With a guilty look on his face, so out of character for the Hound, he told you you'd never see your lover again, that he was gone. But you know better than that. You know him better than that. He wouldn't have gone down so easily. Not him. Not the rebel you fell for so many years ago, and to whom you promised to never part from.
A promise you mean to maintain, still, as you turn into alleyways, shielding yourself with the leather jacket that still bore his scent. Bourbon, soot and something uniquely him.
He wore it the first time you met. Coincidentally, it was a stormy night just like this. You remember cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella with you as the rain gradually soaked you, until a kind stranger offered to shield you. With his jacket thrown over both of your heads, your breaths mingling, you helplessly fell in love with those seafoam eyes right then and there.
The warmth of your memories seems to fend off some of the cold, and gives you strength to keep going. You shouldn't be too far now. If your guess is correct, Silco should be hiding in the abandoned cannery near the docks. You pray to every god you know that you're right. You don't have a plan B in case you don't find him. After all, how can you go back to living without him?
Your heart skips a beat when, turning a corner, the cannery finally comes into view. Your feet pick up the pace without you realizing. First into a jog, then a run, until, keeping the momentum, you slam the rusted doors open. The screech reverberates across the massive, empty space, occupied only by lichen, debris, and dust. The stench of mold and rotting fish makes you scrunch your nose. A few rats scatter around, startled. The windows are shattered, some half-assedly nailed "shut". The place looks like it's been abandoned for decades.
Perfect hiding place.
Carefully, quiet like a church mouse, you step further into the building and climb up the ramp of stairs to the first floor, into what you guess used to be the main production room, given all the rusting machinery left behind. Silent as a grave. Boxes filled with empty cans occupy most of the floor space, stacked in small towers. The already scant amount of light barely comes through the dirty windows, making the place appear eerie and dark. You’re not sure if the chill you feel on your skin is due to the humidity, or the prickling sensation that something is going on here. You squint and notice a table near the opposite wall. You walk over and find what you assume is chemical equipment with bizarre liquids in strangely shaped glasses. A couple of potted plants you've never seen before stand at the foot of the table. As you wonder what all of this means, you feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, as if someone's watching you. You shoot a cursory glance over your shoulder.
Nothing.
Back to the table.
Unlike everything else you’ve seen in the building so far, it’s not covered in dust. A map of the Lanes lies half-rolled up on the edge. You open it, quickly scanning it. Nothing out of the ordinary at first, the usual streets and buildings you know better than your pockets by now, but then you notice it. The mine up north. The mine that’s been dug a year and a half ago.
This map wasn’t always here.
You're pulled out of your reverie by the sudden sound of something moving behind you. You whip around to catch a lanky shadow scurry behind one of the wooden boxes.
You'd recognize that figure anywhere.
"Silco!" you gasp, euphoria taking over you as you launch yourself toward him, eyes prickling with tears of overwhelming joy. Finally, finally you can cradle your lover in your arms again. Finally, you can hear the sound of his voice, smell the perfume of his skin, and feel the warmth of him beneath your palms, and nothing and no one is going take that away from you again.
But that relief is brutally ripped away from you, hitting you like a punch in the gut, when Silco jumps out of his hiding spot, knife in hand, his face wild. An infected wound mares his left cheek. Gangrenous, it bleeds across his gauged eye like a slash. The sight can't be described as anything else but feral.
"Stay back!" he growls, knife pointed at you.
He might as well had stabbed you.
You freeze in place, trying to understand what's going on, your mind in a frenzy between relief and the pain of finding him like this, hurt and wild like a caged animal. Does he not recognize you? Is the love in your eyes not familiar to him? Has he forgotten about you?
You raise your hands before you.
"Silco," you whisper, voice trembling, "it's me. Don't you remember?"
"Why are you here? Who sent you?" he cuts short. His tone is snappy, on edge, his armed hand trembling as it keeps the knife in your direction, ready to strike.
What?
"What do you mean?"
"Did..." He gulps, his gaze fixed on you like he's expecting anything. He nervously wets his lips with his tongue, a gesture you know well being a sign of stress "...D-Did Vander send you?"
You notice the way his voice cracks at the man's name.
"No.” You affirm resolutely, and the mere idea of you associating with Vander has you sick to the stomach. “I... I came alone. I came for you" you try to explain in a whine. "I was looking for you. I finally found you–"
"How did you find me?" he interrupts you.
You blink and swallow.
"There was blood. At the riverbank. I-I followed it to the shore"
Silco’s brow flinches.
"A dock worker saw someone dart past…" You continue, trying to control the shakiness of your voice. “I figured that...I-I hoped that…” You pause to take a breath. “You couldn’t have gone too far..”
And as you go on telling him how you were able to piece everything together, Silco's good eye widens impossibly further in what can only be described as sheer horror, and the color completely drains from his face, while the knife, momentarily forgotten, lowers. When you're done, he says and does nothing for a while. Silent and unmoving, he stares at you like you've doomed him.
You fidget with the sleeves of your –well, his– jacket.
"What's wrong?"
"I-I can't stay here"
You knit your brows.
"What are you talking about?"
He lets out a strained whimper.
"He's gonna find me... Just like you did, he's gonna find me". He's never sounded so powerless, so weak and small. It breaks your heart into thousands of pieces.
You take a small step forward.
"Then come with me–"
"No!" he shouts, overcome by sudden tremors as his breath turns ragged, like he's suddenly in a life or death situation. The knife is pointed back at you with renewed threat, even as his grasp is shaky and unsteady.
You stop dead in your tracks, a cold sensation crawling down your spine. One wrong step and you're done for. You can’t give Silco the grief of losing you.
You carefully weigh your words.
"I can protect you," you say.
He shakes his head.
"Don't think I'm not onto you."
Your gaze blurs. You've spent weeks trying to reunite with him and he's terrified of you. He doesn't need to say it, but you know it's Vander's fault. Because of him, Silco, who has never even bowed his head in front of an enforcer, is convinced you’re a threat, and it shatters you. You cannot do anything about the tears running down your face now. The sight of it seems to breach through his defenses, judging by the way his harsh, scared gaze softens to concern and a tint of guilt. But he reigns himself in just as quickly, and the coldness settles back in his eyes.
"Silco..." you sniffle pathetically, your eyes wide in plea. "...I'm begging you. Please come with me. I cannot live without you... Please". And you strain out that word in such a miserable, broken tone that it tugs at his heart strings. His fingers twitch on the handle. You're laying your soul bare to him, hoping he sees through you.
You take another tentative step forward, and he stays still, eyes as wild as they are wide. You swallow.
"If you think I'm gonna leave you, you're severely mistaken" you proclaim so firmly that it startles him. His hands are now trembling, the knife shaking like the sting of a hesitant scorpion. But damn it, you're either gonna bring him back home or die trying.
Silco takes a step back, his back hitting the boxes behind him. He has nowhere to run.
"Don't make me do this" he begs, readjusting his grip.
"I'm not gonna leave you," you reinforce.
Another step forward.
"Get away from me!"
You lift your gaze and lock eyes with him. A sea storm in one, a black hole in the other.
"I can't" you whisper. "I've been away from you for far too long, I'm begging you. Come back home."
Another step forward.
He tightens his grip on the knife, his knuckles turning white.
"One more step and I'll–"
"No you won't, or you would have already" you assert.
Silco reels, taken aback by your blatant calling out, and in that moment you see a window of opportunity. Another step, and your hands close around his. He jumps, the contact shocking him. You don't take the knife away. You don’t resist him. You just keep your hands over his, mapping his skin, the fine hairs and the fluttering pulse beneath your fingertips.
It's been so long since you've held your lover’s hands, since you've felt his presence, that you can't help the flow of more silent tears. You gently run your thumbs over his skin.
"If I don't come back home with you..." As you sniffle, you tighten your grip on his hands, and in a frightening, sudden move, you inch closer. The knife's tip is dangerously pressing against your sternum now. Silco stiffens, his tendons flexing under your palms, and his breath hitches. "...you might as well kill me now".
Everything comes to a halt.
Silco stops breathing, his panicked eyes frantically running all over you as if looking for any hint of a trap or a trick, desperate to prove your deceit. But as his eyes meet yours again, you see how something inside them breaks.
As you stand like this, you wonder: how could you ever let something like this happen?
When you first got together, you made a promise: to always protect each other. And you failed spectacularly. You felt that something about Vander that night was off. In the nervous clenching of his meaty fists. In the set of his jaw. In the narrow of his eyes whenever he looked over at his best friend. You told yourself it was just your imagination. You did nothing to stop him.
Why would Silco ever trust you again?
Why would he think you’re safe, when you weren’t there when he needed you the most?
It’s a miracle he hasn’t stabbed you already.
And why should he be the one to do it? Hasn’t he suffered enough already? Why would you be so selfish to put him in this situation?
You put your foot forward, ready for the final step.
"No!" he croaks.
It happened so quickly. In less than a second you find yourself in Silco's arms, held tight like you could slip away at any moment.
The knife clatters against the floor.
You hold onto him like your own life depends on it, clinging like a bur. You start sobbing uncontrollably, nuzzling against his twitching chest. Finally, you’re home.
He rubs his cheek on the top of your head, carding a hand through your hair. "Janna, I've missed you." he whispers. He bestows a hurried kiss to your hairline.
You sob harder. "Why didn't you come back to me?!"
"I thought..." He trembles "I–I thought... like Vander, that... That you would–"
"Never."
You detach yourself enough to cup his face tenderly and swipe your thumb over a falling tear. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. There are no words to accurately describe the overwhelming love you feel right now. Instead, you tilt your head, brushing your trembling lips against his ever so softly, as if anything more tangible than hope will break the spell and he'd disappear. The relief you feel when he kisses back just as carefully is indescribable. And you promise to yourself in this moment that you will ever let anything come between you two.
When you part from him, his forehead rests gently against yours. "Shall we go home?" you suggest in a breath. He brushes a stray hair behind your ear.
"Yes"
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
The rain drums against the windowpane, the thunder outside booming loudly enough to nearly drown out the gentle crackling of the fire. Silco sits in front of the hearth, with clean clothes and a blanket wrapped around him. You sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder, and you turn to bestow a loving kiss through the fabric. He wraps his arm around your waist, but he doesn't pull you close. Not yet.
You hear him sigh beside you, and you turn to look at him quizzically. Though his eyes seem to observe the flames, you see that his gaze is lost, as if he's looking at something that isn't there. You kiss him on his temple this time, to show that you're there for him.
"So...what now?" you ask. He lets out another sigh, looking out the window. Catching his reflection, barely recognizing himself, he traces his wound.
"Now...to pick up the broken pieces"
