Work Text:
The sounds of two blades sliding against one another echo obnoxiously in a deserted warehouse. Ethan Choi hunches over his work, brow set in focus as he works to sharpen his precious knives to perfection, completely unaware of the eyes on him.
His bulletproof vest has been discarded on the concrete floor, along with his silk tie and semi-automatic rifle. The way the man clearly wasn’t expecting to be followed here are telling of his exhaustion.
A crosshair is trained on the tousled mess of his usually polished side-part, occasionally slipping to the skin on display beneath his half-unbuttoned, crimson-stained, dress shirt. The tech is of the newest edition and lets its master consider every swallow and bead of sweat in detail, albeit shamefully.
Brown eyes peer out from their chosen place of hiding at an echoing clatter, just in time to watch their target curse and bring his thumb to his lips, briefly twitching to the blood smeared across the one on the ground.
The man sighs and reaches to collect them, and his observer jumps back to avoid being spotted, once again reduced to watching through a scope. Distracted, they readjust their stance to accommodate their aching knees and accidentally bumps a glass bottle over with their boot. Muscles tense, they wince and watch as Choi freezes.
They spot the exact moment his brain catches up to his ears, cursing their own clumsiness as Ethan immediately moves for his rifle, then the clip next to it, loading his gun with terrifying familiarity.
He’s still on his knees, ready to fire, by the time his shadow is in front of him, gun raised and eyebrows furrowed. They feel a pang in their chest as they realize that, had it been anyone else, Ethan would’ve been dead long before he could even get a shot off.
As it is, Will Halstead’s fingers stay obediently placed on the side of his pistol, far from the trigger and any instinctive squeezes.
Don’t trust anyone, his brother had said.
Ethan meets his eye, and suddenly the rifle is limp in his arms and he’s scrambling to his feet. The relief is instantaneous, two-sided.
Their chests slam together as they meet each other in a tight embrace. A head of fiery hair breathes hard into Ethan’s neck as the man grips his jacket so tight the leather creaks. Their hearts beat against each other - vibrating in between their sternums as Will loses track of which beat is his.
“Will,” Ethan breathes, putting his hands on the man’s arms to put some space between. His eyes are searching and Will’s whine promptly dies in his throat as Ethan pulls him close. Their lips are collectively chapped and their stubbles equally unkept yet Will sighs into the kiss, bringing his hands to bury in Ethan’s hair as he presses impossibly closer.
It’s been a long, complicated, time since they were together like this. Since they were brave enough to be and had any time to tumble either of their sheets. Maybe it’s ironic that they’re coming together when their world is falling apart. Maybe it’s symbolic.
“I thought you were dead,” Will gasps into Ethan’s mouth, breaking the kiss to lean their foreheads together. “I- They told me what happened and I just- I thought I lost you.”
“I should’ve come back, Will. God, I’m so sorry-” Ethan pats him down, pausing over the bundle of bandages covering his upper arm. “You’re hurt?”
“I’m fine, unlike you. Let me see your wound-” He pushes at Ethan’s chest until he sits down, pulling his shirt away from his shoulder with a sympathetic wince. The gunshot wound is a clean through and through, but still, it’s too exposed for his liking, and he’s not sure if the bullet tore any ligaments.
Sighing, he pulls some bandages from his backpack and gets to work. Ethan watches him closely, and Will’s tries not to shiver under the attention. Once he’s done, a thought strikes him, and he looks at Ethan tearfully.
“Ethan, was Connor- Did you see him? Do you know if…”
“He was with Nat,” Ethan intervenes before he can work himself up too much, tone as sharp as it usually is when he talks about Connor. “He’ll be fine.”
“If anyone’s gonna keep him out of trouble, it’ll be her,” Will agrees, nodding. They looks at each other longingly, and Ethan starts to pull him in again.
There’s too much to talk about and not nearly enough time, so as much as his body screams at him for it - Will pushes him away. Ethan looks a little broken for it until he catches himself, clears his throat, and turns away. God, he already misses his warmth. The man scrubs at his face and Will gives him a moment to collect himself, as he himself retrieves his gun from the floor.
When they face each other again, his face is a brick wall - closed off and all too familiar, but collected. As much as it breaks Will, this is the man he needs right now.
“What’re headquarters saying about all this? Is there- I mean, killing a Rhodes like that, they have to be expecting an attack, if not all out war.”
Will sighs, dropping to slouch on a crate. “Everything’s falling apart, Ethan. It’s the only reason I came here - Jay said you knew better than to come back after something like that, told me I’d find you here or wouldn’t find you at all.”
“What do you mean?” Ethan’s brows furrow as he steps closer. His stature is imposing, buttoned shirt straining beneath his crossed arms as the sudden height difference has Will swallowing.
“Headquarters got overrun an hour after the shooting, like- Like they’d been waiting for it. It was all so sudden, Eth. I- We couldn’t fight them, they were too fast, too angry maybe.” Will exhales shakily and rubs his hands against his thighs to quell their quivering. Ethan looks stunned, from foot to foot as if unsure where to go, suddenly purpose- and leaderless.
“How many got out? The Board?” His voice shakes with desperation. Will clamps his eyes shut and swallows around the clump in his throat, shaking his head. He hears Ethan’s breath hitch and his shoes clack against the ground as he paces. Will sympathizes, has never met someone as loyal as Ethan is to his duty to protect them all. It’s why they made him head of security, and why he’s currently trying not to break down so he can put their family back together singlehanded.
“Goodwin?” He asks after a moment, when the pacing has stopped.
Will swallows around a dry throat and looks up to meet Ethan’s apprehensive eyes. “I can’t be sure, I saw her guards in the crowds but that was before things really started getting bad. It’s not- She could be alive, but even then, we have no idea where she is.”
Ethan nods slowly. “They could’ve gone to one of the other safehouses, or they’ve been captured. It makes sense to kill the Board quickly. But Goodwin? If he gets her off the playing field, his only competition is gonna be Gaffney-”
“Which means he’s gonna do it publicly,” Will finishes, catching on. He’s not as involved in the gang-politics as Ethan is, but his work has him tediously stitching their people up, which brings a lot of gossip to his ears.
“We need to move.” Ethan’s face is grim, telling of the scheming that must be taking place behind those distant eyes. He begins collecting his stuff, shrugging his suit jacket on. Then he pauses, turns to face him. “Will, is your brother..?”
He trails off unsurely, and Will hurries to nod. “Yeah- Jay’s okay, we have a group near the border, and another near headquarters until we can move the injured, he’s there with Mouse and Hailey.”
The relief washes over Ethan’s face quickly, and he smiles, fumbling with his tie.
“Good, car?”
Will grins and, maybe a little boldly, stands to flick Ethan’s hands away, tying it for him. When done, they lock eyes. “Parked out front, let's go.”
**
It doesn’t take them long to realize how bad things are really becoming. They’ve only been driving an hour, but the whole city seems aware of the tensions in the air, and the streets nearly deserted as people peek out from their windows to check if the next war is going to be fought in their front yard.
They’re equally as on edge as they ride through back-alleys to avoid enemy lookouts and all the radio will talk about is the shooting that lit the fuse to a generational feud that's been simmering below the surface for years. Ethan can only guess why this happened - who was behind it. Even while having been at the gala himself, he has no wise answers to offer Will when it comes to why anyone would want Connor’s sister dead.
“-I mean, her father has always had enemies, and Cornelius and Goodwin have been on bad terms since he took over when Elizabeth passed, years ago,” Will continues, looking over at Ethan in the driver’s seat. “It makes no sense. Why now?”
The man shrugs to the best of his ability, shoulder tender still. “There’s a million possible reasons, Will. One of Rhodes’ clients looking for revenge post-deal-gone-wrong or some ambitious runner rooting for a new boss, hell - even a hit ordered by anyone who’d profit off of a local gang war. It could’ve been anyone. Framing Goodwin gets the ball rolling and us off the board. ”
“Couldn’t they just kill the guy himself, then?” Will mutters, crossing his arms.
Ethan glances at him tiredly. “You know how this goes, Will. You want someone angry? You go after their money. You want someone desperate enough to declare civil war? You go after their family. Horrible as it may be, killing Claire was someone’s opening move, and now they just have to sit back while the rest of us get slaughtered.”
Will grinds his teeth together in frustration, solemnly looking out the window as they pass a dimly lit diner. “I still can’t believe she’s dead.”
Ethan keeps his eyes on the road, swallowing thickly. He’s trying to stay strong, really, he is. But Will seems insistent on reminding him of how everything is falling apart, and everything that’s out of his control. Not that he blames him, but he’s tired. Exhausted, really, and fuck - maybe they should’ve pulled over and ate something earlier because he hasn’t eaten since the gala.
“And shit , what about Connor? He just lost his sister and we’re…” Will trails off with a sniffle, scrubbing his face with a tired sigh. “I just wish we could-”
Before he can finish the loaded sentence, Ethan slams on the breaks so suddenly the belts flex to keep them in their seats. “Fuck! Ethan what-”
Will cuts himself off, following Ethan’s line of sight with furrowed brows.
The car is in the middle of a deserted back road, one with an immaculate view of a container park currently in flames. Blue-red flashing lights taunt them, contrasting the cacophony of orange as vessels burn and another metal box explodes.
It’s hard to see through the thick smoke rising from the yard like a pillar to the skies, but Ethan sees the name of the boat that was supposed to take them and the rest of their remaining people across Lake Michigan, and hears the exact moment Will spots it too.
Jay was meant to be on that boat.
Ethan blinks, feeling the despair spread in his chest as the damned thing burns. This was their last chance; the last thing that could bring them to safety; the last thing that could win them the war.
They’re on their own, he realizes.
He hears Will choke next to him and Ethan looks over, watching the man’s chest rise and fall rapidly almost in tandem with Ethan’s own racing heart. He reaches for his hand without thinking and lets Will grip it until the bones creak.
He feels like he needs to cry, to mourn the friends he lost here, but there’s no time. The cops are setting up roadblocks, and it won’t be long before leaving becomes impossible. Before their problems become even bigger and they can forget ever getting out.
Without a word, Ethan turns the car around and lets their hope burn in the rearview mirror, hand still tightly clasped in Will’s.
**
They sleep in Will’s old car for two days before Ethan finds them a better place to stay. As much as Will is going to miss being held in strong arms in the cramped backseat as he cries all night, his back weeps in relief at the news.
He is still a mess, but he hopes a change of scenery will bring him some sense of moving forward.
The loss burns in his chest and has him crying every time they stumble upon something that vaguely brings his brother to mind. It has become a mundane thing, now - crying. Will feels like he never stops; cries long into the night because some mental image of their childhood woke him, or because the last conversation they ever had was Will brushing off his brother’s reluctance to split up.
He can tell Ethan is getting tired of coaxing him out of anxiety attacks, but as the polite man he is, he hasn’t said anything.
Still, Will knows he’s not the only one suffering, and he wants for Ethan to be able to lean on him too. It wouldn’t be a very stable support, but at least Will could feel a little better about the whole ordeal. Yet he only nods as Ethan climbs into the driver’s seat yet again, limbs obviously stiff and shoulder craving better painkillers than Will can offer.
“So, where’re we heading?” He asks once they’ve been driving for a while, unable to cope with the silence.
Ethan gives him a hesitant look, as if deciding if he’s stable enough to know. Then he looks back at the road, seemingly pleased. “You remember April Sexton?” He questions, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel absently. “Netrunner, used to stay with us for a while?”
Will mulls the name over, trying to connect it to a face. April Sexton…
Suddenly his jaw drops .
“ Wait. ” He gawks at Ethan’s side profile. He could describe the woman in a million ways yet the first thing he thinks to ask is- “Your ex??”
Ethan side-eyes him amusedly, raising a brow. “That a problem?”
Will remembers April. Her snarky attitude and short temper are at the back of his mind while the way she seemed to pull in Ethan like a magnet overfloods his brain. A long buried jealousy flares in his chest as Will fails to diagnose it as heartburn.
Heat rushing to his face, internally mortified, Will crosses his arms and turns away, which is very mature of him, despite what you might think. He has no issue meeting Ethan’s old flame, why would he?
“No, not at all,” he mutters into the collar of his jacket, glaring out the window as if the trailer parks personally offend him. Then, something new occurs to him.
“Hold on-” He twists around in his seat again and disregards Ethan’s eye-roll. “Didn’t she get fucking exiled??”
Will smirks as Ethan’s face drops and he itches his neck stiffly, finding some strange glee in seeing the other man squirm.
“Well,” he starts, cutting himself off with an awkward chuckle. “I- We- She didn’t exactly…”
“It’s complicated.” He settles on, finally.
“So we’re heading to a criminal, whose process of being exiled was…complicated?” Will raises an unimpressed brow as the other man huffs.
“You got a better idea?” Ethan challenges hotly, looking over to glare. The tapping on the steering wheel works at a ferocious pace, and the man doesn’t even seem to notice.
Will scowls back for a second, then sighs and turns back to the incredibly dull streets outside. He doesn’t have a better idea, and the joy he found in riling the other man up quickly dies and turns into composted guilt, making him swallow around the clump in his throat. He doesn’t deserve to question Ethan’s decisions, not until he’s stable enough to make his own.
“She’ll help us,” Ethan says quietly, as if afraid he might jinx it. “You just have to trust me.”
And Will does trust him. He has to; thinks he’ll end up in a ditch somewhere if not.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Will mumbles quietly, in favor of not throwing any heavy confessions out into the already tense air.
The car is silent for another mile, the only noise coming from the only radio channel they could find that wasn’t discussing the apparently undetermined fate of Chicago. Ethan thinks they’re right, Will doesn’t want to hear about any of it - so German opera it is.
Strangely, Will finds himself enjoying it.
“She’s nice when you get to know her,” Ethan optimistically adds after a while, when the orchestra goes quiet and before another song comes on.
Will snorts and turns the volume up. “I’ll take your word for it.”
**
Will doesn’t think he has ever met someone as paranoid as April Sexton.
After a two-hour-long drive Will had been tired enough to put the whole ‘Ethan’s ex’ ‘exiled thing’ behind him in favor of being granted a few hours of real sleep. They’d turned onto her street, Will obediently not asking why Ethan had her address memorized to drool over the pizza restaurant across the building they park in front of.
Hell, at that point he’d even been excited to see her, with all of Ethan’s talk of her immaculate cooking.
However, after they’d stumbled from their respective seats with the dignity of two 80-year-olds, the only thing that greeted them at the door was the angry beep of a security camera and a red laser streaming from the doorknob.
And that’s just the beginning.
Currently, Will is watching as Ethan slowly puts his hands up, eyes on the camera above the door, and hesitantly does the same.
He’s not exactly sure what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t welcome cupcakes and warm hugs. This just screams netrunner, and, if Ethan would look at him, Will would blink ‘I told you so’ in morse code just in case they die before he gets the chance to say it out loud.
“April…” Ethan starts, voice surprisingly stern for someone at the end of a gun, like he’s scolding a child. “It’s me, we just want to talk.”
They wait for a second and-
Nothing.
Will huffs and lets his arms drop; is just about to remind Ethan about the pizza place when a static voice filters through the call screen they didn’t get a chance to use.
“Fuck you, Ethan.” It says, and Will snorts, earning himself a look. The voice is robotic and slightly scrambled, but still unmistakably April’s.
Turning back, Ethan goes to cross his arms, glaring up at the camera. “You owe me,” he mutters as if he’s ashamed of the fact.
Will quirks an eyebrow, curious about a story he’ll probably never be told. The screen is dark and silent, almost taunting as it makes them wait out on the street with no protection whatsoever.
Eventually, his neck starts to grow stiff from staying still for too long, and he sighs, waiting for Ethan’s stubbornness to falter so they can go get something to eat.
The man in question squirms, looking up and down the street a little nervously, knowing full well how exposed they are like this, and that if she doesn’t let them in soon, they’re gonna have to leave.
Then, just as a cop pulls around the corner, the door clicks and the laser shuts off. Before Will can even process what’s happening, Ethan is shoving him inside the stairwell with even more lasers and cameras than the door.
The caller crackles - “I better not regret this, Choi.”
Ethan grins and claps Will on the back as the door shuts behind them, and they breathe a collective sigh of relief, turning to climb the frankly ridiculous amounts of stairs.
**
Things are better.
It’s been a month, and Will feels his grief settle in his chest, growing passive and coiling around his heart in a show of ceasefire. Nightmares still bother him at night, on April’s pull out couch, but he doesn’t cry as often, and the panic attacks are nearly non-existent.
As much as he loathes to admit it, April did good by them. Even if it only was to settle a debt between the two, they owe to her that things are not substantially worse.
He first notices the change in Ethan after a week in her home, the way his eyes shine with clarity again, and the bags under his eyes that have finally retreated. His shoulder is better, too, as is Will’s sore back - both virtues of April and her extensive ‘rainy days’ collection.
She’s not the way he expected her to be, even though Ethan went to great lengths to explain all the good things about her - to convince him or Will, he’s still not sure. He’d never actually met her when she worked with their gang, only heard stories from his friends about how her quick tongue shut up many obnoxious Board members.
Then the rumors about her and Ethan started, and any idolizing Will might’ve participated in before quickly turned to poorly concealed jealousyresentment.
Now, he learns of her slightly obsessive favoring towards the color orange and the names of her three kittens - Misty, Max, and Motorbike (nicknamed Motor, don’t ask) - and he starts to understand where Ethan was coming from. He feels warmth where he used to feel bitterness, which happens slowly and without his noticing.
After their initial downright vicious bickering born from two-sided suspicion died down, they’ve gone from reluctant acquaintances to… soft roommates? He’s not sure what, but something’s changed. Now April brings him tea after he wakes up crying from night terrors, and he joins her on the couch as they binge watch seasons of Love Island.
And Ethan was not wrong about her cooking.
Good lord.
Already drooling, Will heats yet another serving of bolognese because the girl cooks like a dozen people will randomly show up for every meal, listening to the music pouring from the radio and humming softly.
Outside, the streets are quiet - not peaceful, mind you, quiet. It’s the new normal, he thinks. Will can’t exactly say he wishes for the sounds of drunk men and police sirens back, but it’s never been this eerily silent.
They haven’t heard anything of Goodwin, which Ethan says is good. Says that April’s many connections would inform her if the woman had been killed. No news is good news, and whatnot.
The cops have stopped patrolling, too. Kudos to Rhodes’ men running out of people to shoot, maybe. Will doesn’t like to think about it too much.
“Hey,” Ethan walks into the kitchen, warm hand ghosting Will’s back as he peers over his shoulder. He’s so close Will can feel the man’s breath on his stubbled cheek, and his voice is gravelly right next to his ear. “What’s for dinner?”
A shiver skates up his spine, and he tries not to arch into the touch. They don’t talk about the kiss in the warehouse, and he tries not to think about it too hard. Ethan hasn’t made any obvious advances and April’s patience would most definitely run dry if she has to deal with that awkwardness in her own house.
Will snorts, chalking the sudden warmth in his face up to the heat swathing out of the oven as he retrieves their portions. Ethan steps back as he turns around and presents the bowls with a flourish. “Take a guess!”
The man chuckles and takes one of the steaming hot bowls with pasta spilling over the edges, realizing his mistake too late as he hisses and quickly sets it back down. Will just laughs and passes him a glove, settling at the dinner table and digging in, stomach rumbling even though he ate just a few hours ago.
“Well if someone else would offer to cook-” April starts, strolling into the kitchen wearing her usual cropped sweater and yoga pants, a playful grin on her face. She dances around the kitchen and retrieves some chili pepper since apparently it’s normal to re-spice it every day.
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Ethan placates with enthusiastic hum from Will and his mouthful of food. She grins and sits with them, passing the drinks around while already gossiping about her latest clients.
Motor streaks against his leg, and Will sneakily drops him a meatball, grinning at April’s accusing “He’s already too fat!” and letting Ethan steal some nacho chips from his plate while pretending not to notice.
Yeah, he thinks, things are getting better.
**
In hindsight, Will is kind of embarrassed to admit that it took him a whole roundtrip to the grocery store to notice he was being followed. It gets even worse when the kid is tied up in the kitchen and it’s painfully obvious that this is his first gig ever.
Seriously, his attentiveness must’ve died in a ditch since he started settling in his newfound comfortable home-life.
The kid blubbers and blushes when Ethan yells at him, unable to answer even the simplest questions - seemingly having forgotten both his name and how he found them.
They’re sure he’s been paid to watch them, if nothing else, thanks to a quick scan of his messages with an unnamed employer. Luckily the kid, Adam, according to his phone, hadn’t had the time to send the text with the latest update, too busy getting jumped by a red-faced Ethan in the alley below the living room window.
“Please!” The kid cries, snot and tears spraying from his mouth as he hiccups and looks at them pleadingly, as if Will and April doesn’t know better than to get in between Ethan and something considered a threat. “I don’ know nothin’! Swears!”
“Oh yeah?” Ethan growls, hands on his knees as he stands before the chair, waving Adam's phone in his face. “And this isn’t your phone?”
“Well, yeah…” Adam starts, belatedly realizing his admission and jumping to backtrack once he does, horror dawning on his face in an almost comical fashion. “But- I never-!”
Ethan pulls up the messages with an unimpressed look, shoving the screen up against Adam’s nose. He swallows, registering the words he himself typed and maybe how much he’s fucking himself by trying to lie.
“That ain’t mine! I dunno who typed that shit!” He squeaks, then sniffles, “I lose my phone all’s the time, just ask my bro! He’s the one who gets me a new one each month…”
Scratch that last part.
Will sighs, sinking further into the couch as the kid starts sobbing again, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to stave off the oncoming headache. He feels the soft leather dip next to him, and peeks out at April and her tight-lipped scowl from under his hands.
“Please! My bro’s got cash! He’ll pa-ay-”
The unmistakable sound of a palm colliding with a cheek has him flinching and twisting over the back of the couch to frown at Ethan and his raised hand. The cries that had just been descending into full blown wails quieten, but a mere glance at the kid’s shaking shoulders tells him that Ethan at least had the sense not to knock him out.
Will furrows his brows, judgemental, and Ethan grips the kid’s face in one hand, forcing him to meet his dark eyes. He’s all for getting answers, but that hitches on the fact that the kid actually has answers to give. Which, at the moment, seems highly unlikely.
“You sure the neighbors won’t call the cops on us?” Will murmurs to April as they watch Ethan whisper something vaguely threatening in Adam’s ear.
He thinks it’s a fair question; they are being very loud. Most reasonable people would be very concerned, especially since they had no choice but to drag the kid through the stairwell to get here.
She snorts, absently scrolling through the tablet in her lap. “You mean Ms. Rostova, the half-deaf 86-year-old who I’m ninety percent sure buried one of her husbands in the yard at some point, or Mrs. Linton, senior activist who spat in a police captain’s face at a march for women’s right to vote?”
“Jesus, April.” He gawks at her, not sure whether to be horrified or amazed. Her eyes never leave whatever she’s reading, but he spots the smallest hint of a smile ghosting her lips. “Guess it makes sense why you live here, now.”
And it really does, as well. He has yet to officially meet these mysterious neighbors, but he’s heard the russian grumblings at four in the morning and how sometimes old country music rings out from an open window above them.
At first, he thought April paranoid and a bit of a hermit, but has since realized that while that is absolutely true, there is more to it.
Sometimes he sees her in the secluded yard behind the apartment complex, sitting with a woman in a 70s sundress as they watch the sun or smoke together; and sometimes leftover food disappears from the fridge and then the lunch boxes are outside their door with handwritten notes smelling of flowery perfume.
She raises a brow, side-eying him mischievously. “I’m going to go ahead and take that as a compliment, Red.”
Will rolls his eyes at the nickname that has come to haunt him, but she cuts him off before he gets a chance to retaliate.
“Here, look at this,” she says, offering him the tablet with a curious quirk to her eyebrows.
It looks like Adam’s phone messages. He shoots her a look, but she only shrugs, and Will is left to wonder when she had time to copy it. April lets him snoop around for a second before impatiently sighing and directing him to whatever she wanted him to look at.
Will furrows his brows as he’s handed the screen again, mouth dropping as he processes the familiar signature at the end of every received message.
boss (important) (seriously dont lose the fckn number) (ask for insta in future)
ok there gone now, dw
noone will get in my phone anyway bt-dubs
my bro put a firewall on my password
shit but he didnt see anything tho
(07.28)
Have you reached the address
you were sent?
NM.
(07.28)
imma be there in ten mins
bus was late
ok im here
what now doe
(07.41)
It was in the attachment.
NM.
(07.42)
but
u told me to delete that
(07.47)
Nevermind. There should be a
“Pizza Palazzo” on your left.
NM.
Do you see it?
NM.
(07.52)
yeah i see it
fuck im hungry
(07.53)
The apartment building across the
street. 34A.
NM.
Third floor, second window from
the right.
NM.
(07.57)
got it
do i go in
(08.01)
No. Wait until you see someone,
then tail them. Report back to me first sign of
activity.
NM.
(08.05)
yes boss
(08.02)
pretty skinny dude, red hair, tall as fuck
this your guy?
(14.32)
That’s him, remain undetected.
NM.
(14.33)
Does he look unharmed?
(14.35)
uhm, yeah?
i mean hes buying food and shi
@ the grocery store
(14.56)
k hes leaving
fuck
almost got spotted
were good tho
(15.26)
Update?
NM.
(16.39)
Adam, the package has been
delivered.
NM.
(18.44)
Adam? Report.
(19.08)
THIS NUMBER IS OUT OF COMMISSION, YOU HAVE BEEN
BLOCKED
“-his employer. I could try to get the IP, but so far they’ve done a good job of burying it.” April’s voice filters in slowly, as does Adam’s whimpering behind them.
“What d’you think, Will?” A hand lands on his arm, and he flinches, the tablet clattering to the floor. He hears April curse but moves before she can pick it up again.
Suddenly he’s pushing past Ethan, snagging the phone from his back-pocket and pulling up the messages with ‘NM.’ The man protests somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, but he’s too distracted to pay any attention to the words.
He shows Adam, whose cheek is now swollen and red, the screen and the boy sighs miserably.
“I told you already-” He pauses to spit. “I dunno who they are. I mean- Look at me! You really think people tell me important stuff?”
“The signature!” Will thunders, desperate words marking the end of his patience. “NM! It’s on every fucking message in here-!”
Adam shakes his head and Will, in a haze, stomps over to the kitchen counter to retrieve the gun taped to the underside of it. Ethan tries to get in his way, frowning with concern.
For who - Will doesn’t know, he’s fine.
“No! No, please-” The kid strains against the tape binding him to the chair, chest heaving. “He’s fuckin’ crazy-”
Training his gun on Adam’s forehead and ignoring his sobbing, he continues, voice trembling. “She wanted you to follow me, why?!”
“I don’t know!” Adam cries loudly. “ God. Please I- I don’t know!”
“Tell me!”
“Will!” Ethan barks suddenly and wrenches the gun from his hands, flicking the safety on before tossing it across the room. He grips Will’s arms so tight it almost hurts as he forces the doctor to face him, eyes searching.
Will claws against his chest like some feral cat until the hands finally release him and he falls to the floor, panting.
“Don’t you get it?” He meets Ethan’s worried eyes defiantly, words harsh and unforgiving. “NM? Natalie Manning. Ethan, it has to be her. ”
Ethan falters, furrowing his brows and looking away, maybe at April. Will struggles to get on his feet again, inexplicably tired now that the fire in his chest is slowly waning.
Adam flinches away from his eyes as if they’re fire, but Will only sighs. “You weren’t meant to kill me,” he says, and Adam shakes his head quickly, still looking at the floor.
“I wasn’t! Swears! S-she was gonna give me more information once I’d seen the rest of you,” he stammers. “Said you couldn’t get your message until I saw if you was in enemy hands!”
“Message?” April asks, and Adam nods desperately.
“Y-yes! I dunno what it is, ‘cause I’ve been busy being tied up by you to get it!”
“Where is it?” Ethan is already shrugging a jacket over his hoodie and stuffing a gun in his pants before Will’s brain registers that he’s even moved.
“Well I-”
“ Where?!” Ethan demands, making Adam jump.
“Uhm, postbox, corner of Sixth and Main street, by the bus stop?” He stammers, eyes still squeezed shut even as the door slams behind the man he’s so scared of.
On second thought, maybe that’s Will.
“Jesus christ,” April breathes, and Will sags on a chair, head in his hands.
Yeah, Jesus - fucking - Christ.
**
Ethan returns from the 15 minute walk three hours later, half-empty bottled clasped in a hand with bloody knuckles.
“I was too late,” he tells them.
The picture of the burned down post box is in the newspaper the next day.
**
Five days later, Will gets a call.
Well, technically one of April’s contacts gets a call, which in turn gets forwarded to April herself and then handed to Will as he’s feeding the cats in the kitchen.
He gives the woman an odd look, slightly intimidated by her blank face, but sets the wet food down anyway, and takes the phone from April, swallowing as she walks out of the room.
“Hello?” He greets hesitantly, leaning his back against the kitchen cabinets. Misty streaks against his leg and tries to woo him into giving her the food he was preparing.
“Will?”
No. Fuck. Not-
Will grips the countertop behind him so hard he thinks the marble might crack, his legs suddenly numb and tingling. He wills them not to give out so he can partake in whatever hallucination this is for a little longer, breathing heavily into the phone.
The voice is staticy with the overlay of a secure line, but so painfully familiar still. Will chokes on a sob.
“Jay?”
“Are you- Fuck, Will-” Jay’s voice, or at least the cruel imitation of it, trails off. There’s a shaky breath on the other line. “I didn’t know if we would find you.”
Will swallows, tears already pricking his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”
“Will-”
“We went to the docks, that night,” he whispers, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Jay, it was on fire. I thought- I mean- I was so sure-”
“Will, listen to me. We don’t have much time-”
The hand grips his locks and pulls until his scalp stings; he draws in a shaky breath.
“I’m not even sure this is real,” he confesses quietly, wheezing.
A sniffle. “I know, Will.” Something thuds on the other line, like a door slamming. “And I’m sorry, but- Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Will tries not to cry, but the tears fall no matter what he wants. He inhales shakily, then nods before realizing his brother can’t see him.
“Okay,” he says, finally, voice shakier than he’s proud of.
Another thud, and Jay’s breath rattles straight into the mic. “Goodwin’s been captured, she’s being held by Rhodes’ men. We can’t get her, but you can, Will.”
Will’s head spins with all of the new information, and he feels his grip on his awareness start to slip - he slowly sinks to his knees.
“Jay, where are you?” He asks , needing to see his brother in person. “We can-”
The world is melting away around him, his thoughts becoming muddled and stained.
“Listen, I need to go, but there’s one more thing,” Jay hurries to say, and now it sounds like he’s running. “Connor’s there, Will, Connor’s being held with Goodwin.”
Will’s head is spinning and he gasps for air as if it’ll help. “Jay-”
“Will, I love-”
The call ends, and Will promptly collapses.
**
From what Ethan and April tell him, he went into some shock-like state after speaking to his brother; shaking, staring into space, struggling to talk - all the S’.
His own memory of the whole ordeal is fuzzy, only remembering blurry images of someone calling his name frantically and a hand rubbing up and down his back.
Look, Will’s a doctor, and he knows how shock works, but he still feels silly. Logically, speaking to his brother shouldn’t be such a traumatic thing to do, but he’d mourned his brother already, and had almost made peace with the fact that he was the only surviving member of his family.
Hearing his voice, much less what he was saying - it was just too much.
It still is, if he’s honest, which is why he’s still bundled up in April’s bed, sandwiched between his two roommates. Ethan’s arms are almost painfully tight around his waist as his breath tickles his neck, and his head is resting on April’s stomach, her hands carding through his too long hair.
It’s comfortable, but the peace can’t last forever, he knows that. The revelations his brother brought has his heartbeat stuttering to a halt, and he tenses as the memories flood back into his brain.
Connor.
The hands freeze in his hair as he starts trying to sit up, untangling the hands around his chest with burning cheeks. This doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself.
“Will?” April questions softly, “you with us?
Rubbing his eyes, he ponders the question for a second before nodding. He’s wrung out, mentally and physically, but he’s finally present enough to tell them about his conversation with Jay.
It’s not exactly a pleasant recollection, but he knows they want to know.
Ethan rolls onto his back, yawning so wide his jaw clicks. April shoves his shoulder and he snaps it shut, blinking up at Will. His eyes turn concerned and dizzyingly soft, and he sits up by his elbows.
“Hey.” His voice is rough from sleep, and Will has to restrain the primal urge to jump him. “How are you feeling?”
Will’s heart is beating so fast in his ribcage he’s worried it’s going to explode, and the pure need to have Connor safe and right fucking here makes his vision spin. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to calm his nerves.
“Connor’s alive,” he says in lieu of replying with some half-assed lie, getting uncharacteristically straight to the point. Simultaneously, their jaws drop, which would’ve been funny if anything was different. “He’s being held somewhere, with Goodwin,” he adds quickly, making Ethan shake his head at him in confusion. April looks between them, just as skeptical.
“What?”
“Jay told me, he’s the one who called,” Will continues, almost feeling guilty as he drops bombshell after bombshell on the usually stoic faces. “I don’t know where, I don’t know why - I just know he wouldn’t lie about that, not to me.”
“I-” Ethan sighs and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “Jay’s alive?”
Will’s intense gaze softens, suddenly remembering that Ethan has been mourning people, too. “Yeah, he is.”
“And apparently more informed than we are,” April mutters, reaching for her phone. “Was he certain? I mean, the son of Cornelius Rhodes is pretty unlikely to get kidnapped in the best of times, least of all now.”
Will nods quickly. “He wouldn’t have told me if he wasn’t sure.”
And it’s true. Jay wouldn’t have wasted so much time on a simple rumor when they could’ve been discussing the location of their new hideout. When he could’ve been making sure Will was even okay.
“Maybe they’re hoping to get a pretty penny from the man himself before skipping town,” she ventures, swiping at the screen. “Cornelius needs one if not both of them strategically, so of course he’d pay.”
Something clicks in Will’s brain. “That’s why Nat tried to contact us - for help!”
April shakes her head in confusion. “Why would we help them? They’re the enemy.”
Ethan twists around and the two exchange a look, one smug and the other pleading. Ethan never cared much for the two of them together, even though he never explicitly explained why beyond ‘it’s dangerous, Will’ and ‘what if someone finds out?’ Will himself never saw the issue - since, as it turns out, things were destined to go to shit anyway.
“Well-” He stammers, suddenly embarrassed under both of their scrutinizing eyes. “I know him, kind of- a little bit, uhm- Connor and I-”
“They fucked,” Ethan supplies helpfully, smiling, amused, at Will’s betrayed look.
April’s jaw drops and her eyes go comically wide. “I’m sorry - Connor Rhodes?? Son of the most prominent mob-boss in the city?” She sputters. “ That Connor??”
“Yeah…” Will flushes and scratches his neck. “That one.”
“I-” She starts and throws her hands out exasperatedly. Furrowing her brows, April looks between the two of them dumb-foundedly. “How did that happen?”
Ethan and Will glance at each other, the prior huffs, disapproving as ever, while Will groans and flops back on the bed. He shoots an unimpressed face April’s way as she snorts, before sighing and returning to his trip down memory lane.
“Well, first off, his bodyguard is my ex-”
April screams with surprised laughter instantly, slapping the mattress and wiping her eyes.
Will blinks, then squawks. “It wasn’t like that-” His indignant protests only make her laugh harder, and he huffs, wishing he had Ethan’s serious glower on his side in this. Crossing his arms, he adjusts his position while April calms down. She waves a hand weakly, gesturing for him to go on.
“I got hurt once, and Rhodes’ men brought me back to Connor, their only doc at the time,” Will explains with a glare.
“He saved my life,” he continues. “And helped me escape when he realized his father wouldn’t let me leave without paying with information.”
Will rubs a hand down his face, remembering the rushed, maybe even forced, trust he had to have in the man; and the way it came so naturally for him to trust Connor.
“Then we met again a few months later, on a mission, in an elevator- Don’t ask.” He waves off April’s sound of confusion. “Things just clicked, I guess. His bodyguard helped us sneak around, even if we never did it very often. Ethan covered for me too, even though you never approved .”
April smirks at Ethan as he shakes his head with a miserable sigh. “Sounds like you.”
Then she rounds on Will again, frowning. “Then why’d you break up?”
Will picks at his sleeves, silent.
“Oh.” Her face dawns with realization as her mouth draws together in an ‘o’ shape. “You never did, did you?”
He shakes his head, blinking the burning behind his eyes away. He’d tried not to think about this, about him.
“I don’t even know if he’s alive,” he whispers, wiping a hand down his face as images of the man flood his brain.
The last time they saw each other Connor had been strange; detached in a way, kept slipping into his thoughts even as Will had done his very best to distract him, assuming he’d lost a patient at work or something. They’re both doctors, so he had been sympathetic.
Now he thinks it might’ve been more. He can’t help but think about the fact that Connor was holding something back then, and that, had Will been less naive, he’d have noticed.
“Why wouldn’t he be? You’re the ones who’re getting hunted down by order of his dad.”
Ethan scoffs. “Rhodes’ men are not the only ones with guns,” he pauses and looks over at Will. “Or a thirst for vengeance.”
Will sits up to glare seriously, tone like acid. “Connor would never have agreed with the hit on headquarters,” he spits. “You know that.”
“Do I?” Ethan challenges, climbing off of the bed to pace. “His sister got shot, Will. We both know grief has a tendency to muddle people’s priorities."
Will’s heart pounds in his head, muddling his thoughts as he gapes at Ethan. “You don’t really believe that.”
The man crosses his arms, huffing, “It’s what I would’ve done.”
“Well he’s not you!” Will snaps before he has time to consider it. Ethan takes a step back, mouth falling open in a brief, raw, expression of shock.
Will can’t find it in himself to regret his words. He lets them hang between them, heavy and suffocating with tension. Anger simmers in his chest, and he tries to remind himself that Ethan doesn’t mean to hurt him.
April looks between them silently, giving them both scolding looks. Will deflates, shoulders drooping, and Ethan follows suit soon after.
“Please I just-” Will starts, pleading as he rubs his wet eyes with a shaky inhale. “I need him home - or at least to know that he’s safe,” he directs the last bit at April, who bites her lip, hesitating a second before nodding tightly.
She looks at Ethan for a second before turning back to Will. “I’ll do my best.”
**
“Fuck!” April yells one night, making Ethan jump and scaring Motor who was just sleeping in his lap enough for the small beast to sprint into the kitchen.
It isn’t unusual per say, but still, a little worrying, especially considering it’s currently 1AM.
Blankly staring up at the ceiling, he groans and tries to decide if checking on her is worth it when the risk of getting yelled at again is exceptional.
Then there’s a suspicious clatter from April’s office, and, with a sigh, Ethan begrudgingly gets up to make sure she’s not tearing the apartment down because a client scammed her again.
You’d be surprised how often that happens to a woman with lasers in her stairwell.
Unconsciously watching his step to stay undetected, he knocks on her door once before pulling it open in favor of not instantly getting slammed in the face again. Ethan peeks his head through the gap, not surprised to see the woman at her desk outfitted with five TV-sized monitors.
“You okay?” He asks quietly, making April snap her head towards him. For a second, her face is blank enough for him to start preparing for the screaming match he’d been expecting.
Then her face breaks into a blinding grin, and he feels something inside him melt.
“I found it!” She exclaims and throws himself at him before he has time to even blink, hugging him tightly as he steadies himself on the wall, looking up with a thrilled squeal. “I found them!”
Ethan furrows her brows at her in confusion, hands loose around her waist as she practically vibrates in his arms. Then his face falls in realization, finally catching on. He gapes at her in disbelief.
“Are you serious?” He breathes, pushing past her to look at one of the monitors in awe as if he understands any of the encoded messages.
April follows closely behind him and drops back into her chair, rolling over to tap at her keyboard and pull up a map. She types in an address he doesn’t recognize, rambling absently.
“I managed to back-track the ping on Adam’s cell as he got the messages, and I got in touch with some of my contacts and- Yeah, whatever it’s a long story… Point is!” She spins around and looks up at him with a grin, pointing at the screen frantically. “They all came from this location!”
She continues before he has time to compliment her. “And- And I hacked into one of the phones that’s been pinging off the tower nearby and got the dude’s messages.” She huffs to catch her breath. “A gala is going to be held there, in two days.”
Ethan gapes for a second before laughing in disbelief at the address, holding onto her office chair and looking down at her with a grin.
This is exactly what they need - Goodwin will be there, and so will Connor.
“God, I could kiss you right now!” He declares without thinking, high on excitement, instantly feeling his face light aflame as her face falls and she gawks at him, wide-eyed.
Ladies and gentlemen, on today's episode of things never to say to your ex…
“Better not,” April mutters, blinking at him apprehensively before turning away to look down at her keyboard. Ethan feels his heart sink to his stomach - why’d he have to ruin this?
“Right,” he laughs awkwardly and takes a step back, scratching his neck as he wishes for the world to swallow him whole. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”
“Sure, fucking mystery.” April snorts weakly, pulling up another tab of code distractedly. Then - “Go kiss Will if you need to express your happiness so badly.”
Ethan stares, slack-jawed, at her, heart drumming in his ears. He feels a traitorous blush fight its way onto his face as his knees wobble. He’s not- Will wouldn't-
Is it that obvious?
“Oh don’t give me that look,” she says when she spots his face. “You get heart-eyes virtually every time he says anything.”
He sputters, ready to protest, but she cuts him off with a sharp look, pointing at him sternly as she spins around in her chair. Obediently, he snaps his mouth shut and swallows.
“Don’t you dare,” she warns darkly, waving her finger at his chest. “If anyone is going to recognize that look, it's me.”
Which is a fucking unfair thing to say, since he can’t really argue there. He’d been weak for her.
“He’s- We’re not-” He buries his red face in his hands and whines pathetically. “I don’t know.”
April groans miserably, gesturing to the edge of her desk and crossing her legs. With another sigh, Ethan folds and does as she asks, half-sitting half-leaning on the table.
“We’re just helping each other,” he manages after a moment, stubbornly ignoring her amused face. Crossing his arms, he tries not to let her know she’s winning here.
“You were helping me too, before we got together,” she points out and he winces.
When April first came to the gang she was young and eager for work, they were smaller then, too, so they were more than happy to let her in. It didn’t take long for Ethan to figure out that she had other reasons for hanging around. Hacking into their servers, for one.
The first time he scolds her and lets her off with a warning, even lets her stay without saying anything to Goodwin or the others. On the condition that she won’t do it again. And she doesn’t, at least for a little while, and things just… evolve between them.
Those nights are tender and wicked, and he remembers them all fondly. Every night but the last.
Another hacking incident occurs, and Goodwin hears about it instantly. The code is undoubtedly April’s, even as she swears she had nothing to do with it. He doesn't remember if he believed her then or not, only knows that the Board was voting on killing her and he did everything he could to stop it.
The rest of the story is simple - her punishment gets reduced to a permanent exile and ban from their territories. Her reputation - the very thing that netrunners live off of, only secondary to their skill - is ruined, and they don’t speak for another year.
“That was never my motivation,” he sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “You know that.”
She smiles softly, “I know, and I’m grateful for the things you did back there, even if I never said it before.”
“I thought you hated me for getting you cast out,” he says with a confused frown, belatedly realizing he might be pushing his luck with her temper. He’s always regarded them splitting ways as a definitive and rather vicious break-up, but maybe he was too quick to assume.
Luckily he’s saved from finding out by a knock on the door. Ethan twists around in his chair, looking up at Will and his bedhead with wide eyes, hoping the man is too tired to ask why he looks like he just stood on his head for 10 minutes.
“What’s going on?” The man asks, suppressing a yawn as he holds onto the wall.
Ethan hesitates. There is hope in what they are about to do, but there’s also risk. They might not come back from this - hell, the whole thing could be a lost cause. Goodwin could already be dead, as could Connor.
Still, this is not his choice to make anymore.
He takes a deep breath and smiles tightly.
“It’s time.”
**
Will knows how to handle a gun.
Let this be known, while Ethan threatens to put him on a leash (not in the good way) as he peeks out from yet another corner without checking first.
The man growls and grabs him by his collar, roughly shoving him up against the wall to whisper-shout; “Are you trying to get killed?”
Will pushes at Ethan’s hands, but they don’t budge. He goes to glare but his stupid brain will only focus on the minimal distance between their lips. His traitorous eyes flick down for but a second, yet Ethan catches the movement anyway, flushing as he clears his throat and steps away.
“I can handle myself,” Will grumbles, smoothing out the creases on his shirt. “Jay taught me to shoot for a reason.”
“Being able to shoot is one thing.” Ethan checks the chamber of his pistol, looking up at him seriously. “Knowing how to not get shot is another.”
Will rolls his eyes, making a point of peering around the corner into the empty hallway, snorting. “I’ve been doing that for 26 years already.”
Ethan leans around him to check for himself, then looks at Will seriously. “Well let's not break the streak just because I let you come for this.”
Will spins on his heel. “Let me come-!? I would’ve-”
“-Remind me to never work with you ever again.” Effectively making him snap his mouth shut, April squeezes between them, sighing.
That shuts them both up pretty quickly, and they follow her without another word.
The most noticeable thing about the halls they’re passing through is the smell. Because while the walls are as generically graffitied as the rest of the city - the smell is putrid.
Their eyes water as they venture deeper into the abandoned underground’s where Connor and Goodwin are supposed to be held, and Will doesn’t dare think about why everything in here reeks of blood.
In fact, he tries not to think about what they've done to Connor at all, in fear of throwing up.
At this point, they can assume that he has been in captivity for at least a month, maybe more. Even now, as they naively rush to rescue what might be a lost cause, they have no idea as to why he was imprisoned in the first place.
Thinking about it gives Will a headache.
“Sh!” Ethan halts them suddenly, and Will goes to join him in peeking out from the dimly lit corner. April mutters something behind them, grabbing her tablet from Ethan’s backpack as they watch the two guards posted down the hall.
“There’s a camera,” April supplies, tapping away at the screen. “I can deactivate it from here, one sec.”
They wait for her nod before they sneak, side by side, to take the guards out. In hindsight, maybe they should’ve talked it through first. Because as Ethan locks his forearm around the left one’s neck Will realizes too-late that his mark is much larger and perfectly able to twist out of his own grip.
The man roars until his face goes red, terrifyingly similar to a bear as he lifts Will until his feet are barely ghosting the floor. He has time to wonder if the guy is aiming to squeeze him to death.
That is, until a knife lodges itself in his chest.
He splutters, dropping Will and stumbling. For a split, terrifying, second, Will thinks he’s too thick-skinned to die, but then, with a wet gurgle, he drops.
Will gawks at April as she retrieves her blade from his heart with a squelch, wiping each side on her pant leg before walking off.
“Left up here,” she calls after her.
Ethan pants, still crouching next to his clean kill, and they share a bewildered look before stumbling to follow her.
Will doesn’t turn around to look at the men they just murdered - and doesn’t that say enough about the oath he took after finishing his 9 years of med school?
April has the blueprints to the entire base working as their map, and she leads them through tight passages and hidden service tunnels when she can, all to avoid the main halls where a hundred-something of Rhodes’ men wait for orders to hunt them down. Every other turn, she stops them and taps away at her screen, either disabling the cameras or hacking them to figure out what paths they need to avoid.
Will almost worries that, with her nose as buried in the tech, they’re going to have a comically tragic moment where she walks straight into some tank-sized guy, looks up, chuckles, and then gets brutally torn apart.
Luckily, however, she seems to be more on edge than him, eyes jumping at the smallest hint of a sound, and Will is reminded that April never was a field agent before.
She didn’t have to come with them, and is probably risking her life to do so, but somehow none of the three even questioned her helping them. Maybe it’s the strange bond that comes with cutting each other’s hair and watching explicitly bad TV together that ties them together. Maybe it’s a sense of family, friendship, something else.
It doesn’t matter much to Will, he’s eternally grateful either way. No matter what they find, he’s happy she’s here.
As they squeeze through a tight corridor he can hear the mirthful laughs of drunk men on the other side, stationed on the abandoned subway tracks, and he swallows, trying to will the sense of claustrophobia away. They’ve stayed undetected this far, he’s not going to ruin their great luck because his stupid brain is convinced the air has run out.
“Hey,” Ethan nudges him subtly, making Will remember himself and continue side-stepping down the neverending passage. “You alright?”
Will is halfway to muttering a bad excuse when a distant roar of pure rage rings out, echoing through the chamber and making them all freeze. He looks over at April, her face only illuminated by the shine of her tablet, and feels his sense of doom grow at her own panicked expression.
Despite the screaming, they keep moving in hopes of the sound fades with the blockage of distance.
But of course, it gets stronger the further they go, and as it becomes increasingly obvious that they’ll have no choice but to confront whatever is happening, they stop to consider another way.
April taps furiously at her tablet, sighing as she shows them the new route that will bring them almost an hour behind schedule - plenty of time for the bodies of the men they killed to be discovered.
“We’ll wait for them to pass,” Ethan whispers, barely heard over the gut-wrenching wails that can almost be recognized as words. Will pauses, strains his ears, he thought he heard-
“No! Nhm-” A scream, desperate and enraged. “Get off of him! You fucking traitors-”
“Stop it!” Snarls and a choked wail, the person’s voice turns almost animalistic - “Fuck- Connor!”
Ethan’s wide eyes meet Will’s for a second long enough for one of them to shake his head before the other’s running; sprinting as best as he can through the slim tunnel to get to the man who once saved his life.
The man he loves.
He’s not sure if the other two follow behind him - doesn’t care really. His yearning heart tugs him along, praying he’s not too late.
A second set of cries can be heard as he closes the distance and turns the final corner, and the smolder in his chest catches flame - he speeds up.
The scene that greets him would’ve been enough to crack his resolve any other day, but today, already at the end of his line, it breaks him.
As soon as his eyes catch on that familiar head of dark locks on the floor, breathing, he can feel something inside him die of relief. Natalie, restrained by a man twice her size, gawks at him from behind her mess of a hair.
Three other guards, standing around Connor’s crumpled form, look up in surprise. The first to notice him, a woman only tall thanks to her ginormous boots, freezes halfway into a kick aimed at Connor’s ribs, frowning in confusion before beginning to raise her gun, already shouting at him.
A shot to the stomach and she falling, writhing and crying into the disgusting concrete floor. Will winces - he’d been aiming for her head.
This was a bad idea.
The other two open fire as soon as they lay eyes on him, the spread of their shotguns catching Will’s arm when he’s suddenly pulled back by his collar. Ethan keeps him from immediately falling over, squeezing his hand once before disappearing again. Loud shots echo through the small space, and Will tries to discern if anyone is still shooting or if the bullets are just ricocheting off the walls - belatedly realizing his eyes are still tightly shut.
The gunshots stop, and April is next to him, clutching her tablet in a white-knuckled grip as she mouths what he assumes are prayers. He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing as he leans slightly to the left to peer around the corner, dread oozing in his gut.
The first thing he sees is someone with their head blown off and bile rises in his throat. He forces it down stubbornly, hurriedly stepping out from the corner to get a better angle.
He’s overwhelmed again almost instantly - there’s so much blood.
Ethan wrestles the guy that was just restraining Natalie for the cocked shotgun between them as the girl herself straddles another guard, sending repeated punches to his face. For one second, as Ethan shoves his shoulder into the man’s chest, Will thinks they’ve won.
Until a finger squeezes a trigger, and the whole world freezes.
Ethan is flung into the wall by the force of the shot, dropping to the ground, limp.
“No!” Will cries, voice so broken he can barely recognize it, mindlessly sprinting towards the man who’s been with him from the beginning; who’s seen him grow and helped him heal; made sure he survived no matter what. A terrifying thought strikes him.
This is your fault.
The guard advances on him, bulging muscles as red as his infuriated face. Nothing matters, Will doesn’t care. He raises his gun and fires - the man drops.
Headshot.
Ethan is a mess, blue windbreaker torn to shreds and blood pouring from his hairline. Will sobs wetly as he turns him over, tears streaming freely down onto the man’s neck.
“Please,” he begs, voice strained - unrecognizable. “Not you - Please , I- Just, please… ”
Will clings to him desperately, as if he won’t really die until he lets go. In fact, he holds on tightly he barely even notices that there’s a hand pressing against his chest. He pulls back, snot and tears smeared across his face, sniffling.
Ethan coughs, looks up at him with beautiful, lidded eyes, and Will jumps, the sight bringing him the slightest clarity.
“Oh thank-” He breathes, cupping the man’s cheek. The man groans, and he hushes him urgently. It’s not too late. He can fix this.
“Ethan?! Hey, stay with me! I’ll fix it- You’ll be okay-”
Shaky hands struggle to unbutton the shirt under his mangled jacket, and Ethan seems to lose his patience, reaching down to rip the thing apart. Will cuts his internal procedure of ‘minimize blood loss, pack the wound, stitch it-’ off suddenly, jaw snapping shut as he stares down at Ethan’s chest.
More specifically, the bulletproof vest he’s wearing.
Unsure where to settle, his eyes jump from Ethan’s relieved grimace to the sleek, only slightly burnt protective gear. Will feels like his brain is being melted by the countless emotions speeding through his mind, and the only outlet that that same overcooked brain can think of is to press his lips against Ethan’s.
The man smiles into it, lets it last for a moment more before breaking off to laugh breathily. Will can’t help but follow, tears continuing to fall, not getting the memo.
He leans his head against Ehan’s shoulder, and tries not to short-circuit when the man presses a kiss to his hair.
“What was that you said about me not knowing how to not get shot?” Will murmurs and looks up, a triumphant smile on his lips. Ethan grins and Will leans back, trying to hide the embarrassing blush the gesture brings.
April appears suddenly, sparing Will whatever snarky response the man was lining up, wiping at her eyes furiously as she throws herself into Ethan’s arms. He hisses sharply and pats her back, too weak to shield himself from April’s scolding punch to his shoulder.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” She demands harshly, then leans down to kiss him too. Nothing about it bothers Will in actuality, but still, it feels weird to watch so he turns away to see Connor painstakingly crawling over to Natalie who’s still denting the face of the man below her with blood-dipped knuckles.
“Nat,” he hisses, reaching over to catch her wrist mid-punch. “It’s okay.”
She looks up at Connor, chest heaving. Will can’t see her face, but judging by the relief in Connor’s, there’s clarity there. Slowly, Natalie climbs off of her victim, careful not to look at the mess she made.
Will gathers her into a hug as soon as she’s within reach, breathing deeply into her hair. Something warm spreads in his chest as she squeezes him until it almost hurts before stepping away, patting his cheek once. He smiles warmly, squeezing her hand before crouching down next to Connor.
He swallows thickly as he looks over the myriad of injuries, a canvas of bruises and minor cuts probably earned from fighting back. Connor’s feet are bare, and the soles of his feet have been mangled raw. His right eye is swollen almost completely shut, and there’s a concerning ring of blue around his neck.
Will feels his anger flare.
They look at each other for one second before the tears start to fall. Will scrambles forward, yanking the man into a tight embrace and sobbing into his hair as the man shakes against him. They haven’t seen each other in months, but Will picks up on the lost weight anyway.
“Will…I-” He croaks, breaking away to cough before trying again. “How are you here? I mean- I wasn’t…”
Connor swallows, absently stroking Will’s cheek with his thumb as he tries to collect his thoughts, unaware of the nauseating deja vu he’s instilling in the man.
Will opens his mouth, a thousand admissions on his tongue yet nothing gives. Again, they run out of time. Again, he has to shove their history deep down as they’re interrupted by a battalion of boots thudding against the concrete, echoing through the tunnels.
He touches his forehead to Connor, cursing quietly. Can’t they just get one second?
“We need to go,” Natalie breathes, tugging on April’s arm while Ethan comes to Connor’s other side, pulling him to his feet with a pained grunt. The man whines as his feet smear blood across the sharp ground, limping along. Will pulls his arm over his shoulder and fruitlessly tries to make the process of running for their lives as painless as possible.
No matter his efforts, Connor gasps and hisses with every step, sagging and slowing more the further they go. They round a corner and Ethan stops suddenly, giving Will a hurried countdown before they switch their grip to below Connor’s knees, his arms limp around each of their necks.
April and Nat are far ahead, leading them down sharp turns and whatever paths that won’t lead them to certain death. The three men follow to the best of their ability, inevitably falling behind, anyway.
Ethan pants and growls with each leap they have to take to keep up the pace, repeatedly readjusting his grip on the man between them as his hands threaten to slip. Will throws him a worried look, remembering the fall he took earlier and the blood in his hair with increasing despair.
Behind them, the flashlights of their hunters are trained on the wall just after the corner that will leave them completely exposed once it's passed. Will’s heart beats rapidly as they approach the turn ahead of them.
They’re not gonna make it, he realizes.
Then, just as the first guard turns the corner, a hand grips his arm and yanks, effectively pulling him along into a dark alcove, liquid sloshing around his ankles and wetting his pants. Only slightly aware of what is going on, Will barely manages to hold on to Connor’s body as Ethan slumps against the wall with a breathless apology.
Connor whimpers as his feet are set down into the inch tall water, and Natalie hurries to press a hand against his mouth. Will’s heart thuds in his skull, blood rushing in his ears; he thinks he might faint if he holds his breath, but he does it anyway as Natalie desperately shushes them.
Eventually the guard patrol of at least two dozen pass by the concealed alley, shouting that they have to be on the floor above.
Another minute passes in tense silence as they expect for someone to circle back and find them, then Will can’t help it anymore. He gasps for air, holding onto the wall for support while making sure not to let go of Connor’s waist.
The others follow suit, settling into similar stages of disarray in the cramped space, fighting to catch their breaths.
Unexpectedly, Ethan is the first to get himself under control, still holding on to the wall but looking around at them with at least a little more clarity. April’s tablet is the only source of light, and it makes the blood on his face look even worse.
“Goodwin?” He questions, desperate for good news. Nat, still gasping for breath, nods, vanquishing the despair slowly rooting itself in his expression.
“Up another floor,” she tells him, leaning on her knees and spitting. “By the stage.”
Some choked sound escapes Will at the words, and he clears his throat hurriedly. No one pays him any mind, too busy trying to calm their racing heartbeats before the next run for their lives.
Ethan nods slowly, pulling the ruined jacket over his head. Connor straightens and looks at the man seriously
“I’m going with you,” he hurries to say, determination and adrenaline probably the only reason he hasn't collapsed yet. Natalie and Will quickly shake their heads, eyeing his injuries with increasing concern.
“Connor you can barely stand-”
“He murdered my sister!” Connor snaps, smearing the wall with his blood as he stuns them into silence. Will takes a step back out of instinct, wide-eyes, horrified, jumping from all of them back to Connor again.
“I won’t let him take anyone else away.” His unswollen eye is like fire, gaze challenging any of them to protest.
“Him?” Will questions softly, fighting to keep the nauseating worry out of his tone.
Connor looks at him, and Will blinks. His face is so broken he might as well be a different man. Then anger washes over it, and he's an even further shout from the Connor Will used to know.
“My father,” Connor spits, and Will thinks he feels the world stutter.
No one dares breathe, and Will’s heart drops, staring wide-eyed at Connor as if the man will simply materialize the answers before him. He can’t understand…
His father?
“Your-” April is the first to wrangle her mind back in gear, and Will looks over, regarding the neutral expression on Nat’s face behind her, still gaping. “He’s- I don't understand…”
April gives up, and Natalie rubs at her eyes, sighing heavily before speaking, "Cornelius planned the whole thing. He ordered the hit.”
Will feels Connor falter next to him, and he puts all of his focus into keeping the man upright, pushing the way a clump forms in his throat to at least manage that. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s so much worse than he imagined.
“And he’s here?” Ethan questions shakily after a while, as he pats himself down and swears, realizing he lost his gun during their mad escape.
Natalie wordlessly hands him another pistol while checking the chamber of her own. “Goodwin’s execution is set to be livestreamed three hours from now, they were just escorting us to watch.”
Connor huffs a bitter laugh at that. “Dad’s going to get his own hands dirty for once; pull the trigger himself for the first time in his life.”
“And you?” Will asks, not sure if he actually wants to know the answer or not.
“I thought I didn’t want revenge for whoever killed her,” he says, a haunted look in his eyes. “I was wrong.”
Will swallows and nods, ducking his head from the man he’s not sure he knows anymore. Losing family changes you on a primal level, he knows that better than most even as his grief turned out to be for nothing in the end, and he wishes he could offer some form of wise comfort to make the men he loves reconsider.
Yet the only thing his cowardice lets him utter is a weak excuse of wrapping Connor’s feet up before they go on, in fear of an infection he’s most likely already acquired. They spare him any protests, luckily, and let him pull the kit from Ethan’s backpack and pretend there’s anything meaningful he can do here. He tries to summon that stern confidence that comes with being the doctor for a gang of thick-headed men and women who hate any synonyms of ‘health,’ but it’s far off.
The first aid kit he packed is lacking, even as Ethan had told him he was overreacting when he went to pack supplies for an IV. They don’t have time to hook them up now, anyway, no matter how much both Connor and Nat look like they need it. But as Will examines the soles of Connor’s feet, the very best he can offer are some high-end painkillers that will hopefully take the edge off in a way the bandaging definitely won’t.
Connor winces as disinfectant wipes are pressed against the open wounds, downing the pills and sipping from the water bottle April hands him before passing it over to Natalie. She chugs half of the bottle in all of two seconds before Connor motions for his bodyguard to lower it.
“Slow down,” he admonishes, hissing as Will starts wrapping his left foot. “You’ll throw up.”
Will doesn’t hear her answer, but he can imagine her glare, has been at the end of that himself a million times. The implication that they haven’t had any water for a long time isn’t surprising, at least, not nearly as much as the fact that they’re still standing if it’s true. He glances up at Connor, notes the tremble of his hand and the sheen of sweat across his forehead.
They won’t be able to keep this up much longer, he thinks, already dreading the moment the adrenaline will abandon them.
Connor smiles at him gratefully once Will returns to his full height, unaware of the man’s dark thoughts as he reaches down to squeeze his hand. He returns it tightly - Will wishes he could do more, but he’ll have to wait until they’re out of here.
“What’s the quickest way upstairs?” Ethan asks, looking over at April as he uses the wall to steady himself, blood matted in his hair and Will suddenly wishes he had checked that head wound.
It’s too late now. April pushes ahead, peeking out from the alcove before giving the all-clear, quietly moving back the way they came.
Will has a bad feeling about this.
**
When they find Connor’s father, it’s on the stage, speaking to a mass of people dressed like millionaires spread out below him at their round tables laid out with polished plates and glimmering silver, wine glass in hand and a pleased grin on his face.
Count on Cornelius Rhodes to make an execution in a dingy subway tunnel have high production value.
Will wonders if he knows that his son has escaped yet - if he even cares.
They crouch on a small walkway overlooking the stage set up for execution as Connor tells them about the fact that his father wanted so badly for Connor to be the one to pull the trigger on Goodwin.
“That’s why it has been so delayed.” April stares, wide-eyed, at him. “Because he needed you to do it.”
It makes sense. The whole city had been expecting news of Goodwin’s death as soon as headquarters fell and she was said to be missing. That’s usually how things go, quick and messy. So of course it was a surprise when Rhodes’ stayed silent.
And Will knew Connor’s father was a sick fucker, but this is a whole ‘nother level.
“He needs you to be like him,” Ethan adds, looking over at Connor with a calculating look. “To be his legacy.”
“If he dies-” Connor starts, voice catching in his throat. “If he dies then I’m the only one left, the only one who can make sure his name is remembered.”
Natalie shifts next to them, attaching a scope to her handgun and watching Connor attentively. “Then let’s erase him from the history books.”
Connor nods and she grins, cocking her gun. Will smiles, too, he remembers this side of her.
They already glued as much information as they can on the way here, creating some mutant beast that works as their plan. And as Cornelius gestures for the food to be brought in, they set it in motion.
Ethan fires two shots in the air as April and Will bolts down the left side of the walkway. Instantly people are screaming, scrambling from their seats as Cornelius yells for his guards. They make three turns down a narrow stairwell before reaching the deck the guests are on, sprinting to the doors before people overcrowd them with their primal need to escape.
They shut and bolt them quickly, meeting the eyes of the guards sprinting down the corridors outside as they do so. Fists bang against the thick metal of the doors, roars of rage just barely piercing it. Will and April share a look, heartbeats racing in their ears, as they turn around to see the guards approaching.
Two more shots are fired, and the guards thud against the ground. Will sends a brief but thankful smile to where he thinks Ethan is, quickly moving at the sound of more shots.
They move on, traversing deeper into the room full of terrified guests and guards who aim their guns around wildly, not yet sure where and who their enemies are.
Suddenly, the guard Will had been watching drops, and this time it is Natalie who stands behind him, gun raised with a scowl. They lock eyes, and she nods. Will does too, and draws his gun.
Will has never wanted to hurt anyone as much as he wants to hurt these people. He never knew he could find joy in aiming a weapon at another human, but this time, as he faces the people who cheered for cold-blooded murder not a minute ago, remorse feels far away.
The screams are almost painful in volume as he aims his gun at the ceiling and fires, redirecting their attention and making them scramble even harder to find an exit. He almost finds joy in seeing them fall all over themselves, staining their expensive clothes beyond saving.
Bang!
One of the guests drops, blood seeping through her pearly white dress as she gasps and holds her stomach. Will gapes, freezes, then sputters as he’s pulled into cover by April’s tight grip on his arm. He peeks out from behind the table, watching as a guard realizes his mistake.
It’s working, he realizes guiltily. The guests are their human shields.
He looks out again, and the guard has turned his back. Will raises his gun steadily, firing three shots to make sure at least one of them hit their mark. The man face-plants into the dirt, unmoving, and Will considers his job done.
They continue this routine for another minute. It’s like a dance - slipping in and out of crowds to take down another guard unwilling to fire straight into the masses. April does well, considering her inexperience with actually being in situations like this, not just watching from her office.
But, as most things go - it’s good until it’s not.
Before Will even realizes what’s happening, a guard fires his rifle straight into the crowd with a roar, uncaring of who’s in the way, and agony dances along the doctor’s side. He drops to his knees with a yelp, gun clattering out of reach as he groans, hands clutching the wound.
There’s so much blood all over him, he doesn’t know how much is his. Looking around, people are dead all around him. Guests in their tailored suits and glittering gowns lay limp all around him, unaffected by the ones who got lucky enough to beg for them to come back to life.
His vision blurs as he peels his ruined shirt back to look at his side, gasping as his abdomen flexes and sends a tingling pain over his skin. Will braces himself and wipes at the bloody mess that is his torso.
Another gunshot has him flinching and looking up, watching as the wide-eyed guard who just shot him freezes and falls to his knees, blood seeping from the neat hole square in his forehead.
Will breathes a shaky breath of relief as he realizes that the bullet just barely grazed his side, he just needs to stop the bleeding…
“Will!” April drops to her knees next to him, breathing hard as she stares at the bloody mess of his torso. Her voice shakes. “Oh- Oh my God… Are you- Oh, fuck…”
Tears spill over her lashes as she scoots closer to pull his hands away with a sob. Will tries to explain that he’s okay, but the only thing that comes out when he opens his mouth is a pained whine.
She looks up at the noise, a look of horror and anger dawning on her face as she suddenly moves her hands to cup his cheeks and-
And kiss him.
April kisses him.
Will is still stunned when she pulls away almost immediately after, bringing a hand to her neck to pull her into an awkward hug. He hushes her as she sobs, looking around nervously, surprised to see a sudden lack of guards in the crowds. His lips are tingling, and he has half a mind to suspect he just hallucinated the whole thing.
“It’s okay… I’m okay, April, I’m fine,” he mumbles and pats her back hesitantly. “I’ll be okay, it’s just a scratch-”
April pushes him away as soon as the words are out of his mouth, mouth agape and brows furrowed in confusion, she looks at his wound again, this time ignoring his wince.
“You’re okay?” She asks shakily and he nods. A second passes and for a second Will thinks she’s going to take the kiss back, for her to apologize and let the experience rot in his brain.
But then she kisses him again .
This time Will is more prepared, and he kisses her back eagerly. He can’t believe it - April Sexton is kissing him. In the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by the stench of blood and the occasional cries of a guest-turned-hostage.
“You killed her!”
Both of them jump at the all too familiar voice, whipping their heads around to look for the source.
Connor stands on the stage, facing his father with a gun in his hands. Cornelius' bodyguards, the last ones standing, instantly hurry to restrain him, but only get halfway before a handful of expertly fired shots coming from the ceiling leave them all gurgling on the floor.
“Connor!” His father exclaims, tone scolding. If he’s at all surprised by the visible bruises on his son’s body, he hides it well. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Connor ignores him, inching closer with the barrel of his gun still steadily pointed. “You killed Claire!” He cries. “How could you do that?!”
Will struggles to get to his feet and April grips his arm tightly, shaking her head apprehensively. He swallows and gives her a pleading look - he needs to be there.
She sighs and nods, shooting a look behind them before pulling his arm over her shoulders.
"Nonsense!" Cornelius scoffs, and takes a step forward. A shot is fired at his feet, and he looks towards the ceiling with a gulp. “You know what happened, son. Goodwin and her goons-”
“Shut up!” Connor screams, voice breaking as he stumbles slightly on his bandaged feet. “You’re lying ! To me and- And to all of these people!” He extends an arm over the hall, making several people duck.
Cornelius shifts, briefly looking out at the people himself, and lowers his voice, suddenly very aware of their onlookers. “Son, this is a family matter-”
“She wanted to run things like Mom and you resented her for it!” Connor shouts, tears streaming down a face stained with blood and unadulterated rage. Cornelius’ face distorts in hatred, and Will distantly notes the way the glare doesn’t surprise his son.
“Your mother was weak!” He exclaims, his pride and reluctance to argue in front of his guests finally leaving him, making space for the raw antagonistic nature of the man. His shoulders raise to his ears, and his breathing becomes heavier.
“She was kind!” Connor cries desperately, grief breaking his voice as he folds into himself. Almost whispering, he adds, “Just like Claire.”
Cornelius scoffs and turns away, and is already halfway to another excuse when Connor continues.
“She begged me to come when I found out about her gala; said you would understand what she was trying to build if we showed you together-”
Something flips in the man at that, because suddenly he roars and flings himself at Connor, giving no one any time to react as he wrestles his son on stage. More warning shots are fired by Ethan, but it’s no use, if he shoots at Cornelius now, he’ll probably hit Connor too, and they all know it.
Will desperately tries to up their pace, only managing to stumble even more. His heart drums in his ears, and he breathes heavily trying not to cry. They’re almost there
Conner does his best to fight back, but he’s weak and hurt, and it doesn’t take much for his much bigger father to gain the upper hand. He grunts and shoves Connor off of the stage to thud on the ground, unmoving.
Will feels something in himself snap .
Suddenly he can’t feel the gaping hole in his side at all, and scrambles up the stairs to the stage with an animalistic snarl. Cornelius turns around just in time for Will to slam into his torso, yelping as the momentum flings them both over the edge.
Will cries out as his body collides with the ground, vision blurring with black spots as the pain washes over him in waves. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to throw up, breathing hard and trying to convince himself that he’s not dying, albeit a bit less convincing than before.
He hears the scuffling of someone getting to their feet in front of him, and he dazedly watches the dusty dress shoes leave his line of sight. Someone talks behind him and the tone makes his skin crawl.
Will recognizes the other voice, and clarity starts to filter through the ringing in his skull. Connor, his mind supplies.
Then there’s a roar and multiple ear-piercing shots. Will quickly tries to sit up and groans miserably as he only manages to roll onto his back, his head lolling to the side.
He watches, sort of numb, as Natalie, donning a new black eye and a face red with rage, kicks the back of Cornelius' knee and shudders at the following crack! The man drops, face heading for the dirt before Natalie catches his head in her fist, yanking him back up harshly.
Then he doesn’t see much else than Ethan as he stumbles towards him, face blotchy with dried blood and tears. Suddenly his body is being moved by strong arms and he whines, tensing as the pain flares.
Ethan shushes him and picks him up, quickly setting him down on a chair at one of the tables instead. Will grunts as the man prods at his wound and starts unpacking the first aid kit again with a tense look on his face.
“I got it.” The familiar murmur makes Will look up, realizing the others are in his line of sight now, too. Natalie nods at Connor and lets his father drop to the ground. Connor takes a shaky breath, then raises his gun again. They’re only a few feet away from each other now.
Suddenly, Will sees the red blooming on Cornelius’ shirt, briefly glancing up at Ethan before focusing back on Connor.
“Please, Dad,” he says, voice surprisingly steady even as the gun shakes in his hand. “Give me a reason not to kill you.”
Cornelius coughs wetly, blood staining his bottom lip, then scoffs. “What do you want me to say, Connor? That the guilt is eating alive? That I wasn’t right to defend my legacy? That I regret it-?”
“Yes!” Connor cries.
“Well I don’t!”
Connor takes an instinctive step back, shoulders shaking with the force of his cries. Will wants to help him so bad, but he only manages a low whine.
Cornelius glares at his son. “She was going to ruin everything! That-” He spits. “That bitch-”
Not letting him utter another word, April stalks forward and kicks his face. He sputters, body jolting as his limbs flail uselessly, not following what his mind is saying. Will blinks at her, has never known her to be violent before. She shares an unreadable look with Connor as she turns around and squeezes his shoulder, then making a beeline for the table where Will and Ethan are. Natalie still hovers near Connor.
Reality seems to be settling in now, as Cornelius keens in pain, looking up at his son tearfully. He shifts and coughs again, hands gripping the bloody hole in his abdomen. Connor doesn’t move.
“You’re a doctor- You won’t kill me, I know you, son; put the gun down.”
Connor sobs and steps closer, pressing the barrel of the gun against his father’s forehead.
“Con- Connor , I’m your father-” The man pleads.
“Claire was your daughter!” Connor sobs, inching back a little. For a moment, Will thinks Connor might spare him, then-
“I know , son. But we are family , and I love you-”
Connor pulls the trigger before he can hear the end of the sentence, and Cornelius’ face turns to a crater,
The world is silent. Will sluggishly blinks at the man he loves as he makes a broken sound and crumbles, dropping to his knees and wailing.
His heart tugs at him to help, to touch, to be closer, at least. But his body doesn’t listen to his internal pleas, and he just gets to watch as Connor falls apart in Natalie’s arms.
Then he feels his vision tilt and the world goes black.
**
Claire’s second funeral is a private affair.
Multiple people from the city have spread their support of the new head of the Rhodes’ family through their local networks. They express their congratulations and condolences simultaneously, trying to get on Connor Rhodes’ good side by offering to attend his sister’s funeral.
Still, the man shows no interest in replying to any of them, all too aware of their generational connections to his father. Instead, he asks them, like he’s expecting rejection, at the dinner table, if they had time to come with him for her service.
Which is how they find themselves in the cemetery on a friday evening, watching the setting sun hit her headstone in respectful silence.
Of course, Claire had first been buried months ago, and a service had been held then, too. But as Connor describes it, it wasn’t a wake as much as it felt like a fundraising event. This time, it is only the five of them and a bouquet of flowers the Russian woman below their apartment supplied them with as she kissed both of Connor’s cheeks. None of them know how she knew where they were heading.
Will holds Connor’s hand as he silently weeps, April on the other side of him doing the same, Natalie and Ethan next to her. They listen to him as he talks about how Claire died in his arms and how he couldn’t save her, holding back both tears and protests to let him, finally, speak freely without having to hold up a facade.
He’s a mob-boss now, and he has to watch his words even more than he had to before. Will has seen how exhausting it is in both of his men, and is glad Connor isn’t forcing himself to make this into a public event simply for publicity reasons. Even though the messages in April’s inbox pile up and other gang leaders have started begging for Connor to renew his father’s deals with them.
Connor tells them not to answer, and Will doesn’t know if his boyfriend enjoys watching the mafia economy fall apart due to his inaction, but can safely say that he definitely does.
Apparently, they found Goodwin after he passed out that day, shaken up but surprisingly unharmed, considering. Now the woman is busy rebuilding their own empire, using the compensation Connor supplies her with to pick them from the floor, even though she insisted that her grudge was with his father, not him.
Will doesn’t remember any of it, except waking up in a hospital bed with only April next to him because, as it turns out she was the only one who didn’t need medical attention herself.
All in all, things are calming down. People are slowly relaxing, and the city almost seems better off without Cornelius’ hand in every cookie jar there is.
The evidence of everything he corrupted, from the police and the judges to the local politicians, is frankly baffling in its sheer mass. It’s slow going, but they work through the files that prove his involvement in numerous incidents over the years, and finally, the city starts to heal. They do it themselves on tuesday-nights while drinking beer or whiskey and letting Natalie and Ethan watch football for once. Jay comes over too, once or twice.
The news of what Cornelius did to Claire spreads like wildfire. Killing one’s kin in order to move up yourself is not nearly unheard of in this kind of life, but the Rhodes have always been a family at its core, and people, no matter how tainted, have a difficult time excusing killing your own daughter.
Connor grieves her along with the whole city of Chicago. Will thinks it’s touching, in a way, that people who live completely normal lives look up and mourn the loss of a woman that was aiming for the stars with her peace gala’s and hopes to reach the whole world and make it kinder.
Claire would’ve changed this place, probably the whole country if she had time. She was brave for standing up to her father, and even braver for defying him. Will never met her personally, but he has a feeling she wasn’t naive enough to think her father would let her get away with publicly protesting his very life’s work, and subsequently lose him all that money.
Maybe she knew he’d kill her, maybe it didn’t matter to her.
But whatever she was aiming for is coming, thanks to her brother swearing to follow in the path his older sister set for him. Will thought maybe then man would retreat into himself and want nothing to do with anything with his father’s name on it.
He was wrong.
Connor meets with other mafia bosses with a grin on his face and a cunning smile; sends the men Natalie deems loyal enough to help restore neighborhoods plagued by the city’s greed; he goes to peace events in his sister’s place and creates an annual event in her name.
The people adore him and his million dollar smile. And anyone who disagrees doesn’t dare touch him, doubtlessly having heard the rumors of how Connor’s team crashed a party with an entire battalion of guards and made it out alive and successful.
It has pride blooming in Will’s chest - partly because he has turned into someone people respect even if they don’t know it was him, but mostly because he’s one of the people who gets to kiss that million dollar smile breathless.
Even as they all start to re enter their roles in the lives they lead before - Natalie and Ethan as Head’s of Security for their respective affiliations, April slowly patching things up up with Goodwin with Will by her side as he resumes his work own work in the ‘patching business,’ and Connor as the youngest mob boss in town - they see each other at April’s apartment (now theirs) after long days and cuddle on the couch, settling into a soft domesticity.
They kiss and have sex together, forming stronger bonds than Will ever thought possible. And he learns that every single one of his four partners find some kind of sadistic joy in seeing him blush and squirm.
You’d think he’d get used to it now, after a year, and you’d be wrong.
They talk about things that hurt, recent and old, mangled wounds from each of their pasts.Tears are exchanged, breaks are taken as someone slips into those dark spaces of their minds where the rest can’t follow. They eat pizza and watch TV, let Will and April spoil all the movies so they can laugh at all of the serious moments.
Will meets up with Jay and gets the life hugged out of him. They cry, too, then they clap each other on the back and go grab a bite downtown like they used to.
Nat and Connor bond with the cats, and unsurprisingly - Natalie and Misty are instantly the cruelest of besties, claws just as sharp, while Connor likes Max and his much lazier nature and Motor stays firmly attached to April. Ethan whines, says he wants a dog to work out with, Will says it won’t fit in their apartment.
None of them consider moving - they make it work.
A bigger bed is bought, eventually, after a long-winded but seemingly destined negotiation. It’s supposed to fit two people - they make it fit five adults, three rapidly growing kittens and, eventually, a labrador.
They build their lives in April’s cramped apartment, evolve together as they wake up in each other’s arms every morning; schemes and dismantles anything that gets in their way with either carefully chosen threats or, occasionally, a gun.
Will doesn’t think it can get better than this.