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They didn’t realize he was doing it at first.
After Ray left, they didn’t really know what to do, for a while. They were sort of lost, missing their sniper.
They had already met Jeremy- they’d known him when Ray still worked with them.
So they brought him in, first temporarily, then permanent.
And then Ray had come back.
They knew he was like them. Immortal, couldn’t be killed, all that shit.
They’d found out about themselves after they had become a gang. When they died, they stopped aging. It took them a little while to heal- it differed based on what killed them, though it generally didn’t take more than an hour for them to wake up.
They’d found out about him before they brought him in, when he was still running low end jobs. They heard about his death, and mourned him, and then he showed up at their doorstep with a single packed bag and a still healing carved up chest. Apparently he’d heard, just like everyone else, that they couldn’t be killed- though he hadn’t believed it till it turned out to be true of him as well.
So they knew he was immortal. Like them. It just meant he worked better with them.
But after Ray came back, things slowly changed. He slowly changed. They didn’t realize how much. They didn’t see how they used him- how he let them.
Gavin wanted to try out a new explosive, see the radius it had? “Sure buddy, it’ll be an impressive way to go out.”
Ray wanted to see if he could make that impossible shot? “I bet you can’t make it anyway.”
Michael wanted to scream and rage and kill something? “Come on, Michael, I’m out of practice.”
Ryan curious about the effects of this knife versus that one and the rate a person would bleed out? “I haven’t died in a while, why not give it a go.”
Jack wanted to try out a new aerial attack, see if he could drop someone from that height successfully? “Sounds like fun, I’m in.”
Geoff…it’s Geoff that finally realized it, drunk Geoff who just wanted to fight someone, who was that sort of obnoxiously angry drunk that wanted to make someone bleed.
“I’ll give you one free hit, buddy.” Jeremy, arms spread wide, cocky fucking smile on his face. “Weapon of your choice.”
It’s all wrong. Geoff’s looking at him and all he can think of is a different time in his life, of the Roosters, of Joel quietly and slowly but surely letting himself get killed more and more, of Geoff and Burnie cornering him, calling him out on it, of Joel’s quiet desperation and wanting them to kill him for real.
Geoff’s drunk, way too drunk to confront Jeremy about this, but he has to, he knows it.
They knew Jeremy a long time before they finally introduced themselves to him. He delivered pizzas to their apartment, and Ryan had made the mistake one time of opening the door with his mask still on.
They fully expected the kid to call the cops on them, but he just handed over their pizzas, thanked them for their rather generous tip, and left.
It became sort of a ritual. They got pizza pretty much every week, and it was always him. He was kind of a quiet, intense kid, the sort that gets overlooked on the streets ‘til he causes too much trouble, the sort that you know didn’t get to be a kid for nearly long enough.
They learned the kid’s name was Jeremy.
Sometimes he showed up with bruises, bad ones, the sort that Michael used to come home with after getting into fights.
Then one day he didn’t show up at all. Instead they got a bored looking girl with a monotone voice and an irritated look.
“Where’s Jeremy?” Ryan glanced her over, taking the pizzas from her outstretched hand.
She raised an eyebrow. “The short guy, your usual delivery? He got arrested. Assault, or battery, or something violent like that. Means we’re short staffed though, that’s why your pizza’s late.” She held her hand out for payment, disinterest written across her face.
Ryan nodded, handing over the cash silently and shutting the door on her.
Later, he made Jack come with him to check out the situation. Geoff said they were both bleeding hearts, but he also made no move to stop them.
By the time they got to the police station, there was already another kid there, taller, with an overgrown beard and hair to match. He was arguing with the woman at the front desk.
“Listen, I just want to pay his bail and leave.” He looked tired, gesturing exasperatedly at the woman.
“I don’t think you understand. Your friend here is in for battery and resisting arrest. This is Los Santos- realistically, we could be here all night before the damn paperwork goes through. Then, we’ll have to see if this is going to court, or if you can just pay the fine. So go sit back down, and I’ll let you know when I know more.”
Sighing, the kid strode past Ryan and Jack and slumped down into one of the hard, plastic chairs lining the walls.
He was young, probably around Ray’s age, but it was clear from his face and his clothes that he’d been through rough times.
“Are you Jeremy’s friend?” Jack asked, walking over and sitting down next to the kid. He jumped, jerking to face Jack, his eyes defensively wild.
“Please don’t tell me he owes you money.” He sounded resigned, as if he already knew the answer.
“What…no, he just…” As Jack went to explain he realized how stupid it was going to sound to this clearly suspicious kid. “He delivers pizzas to our apartment every week, and we got concerned when he didn’t show up.”
The kid looked them up and down, narrowing his eyes slightly, before nodding. “You’re the guys that give him $100 for like a $15 order.”
“Yeah, that’s us.” Jack nodded.
The kid frowned at them. “What’s in it for you? He hasn’t asked yet, doesn’t want to ‘til he has to, but we all know you aren’t doing it out of the goodness of your heart.”
Jack looked at the kid then, really looked at him. He was wearing a dark grey oversized hoodie, but not a heavy one, not nearly heavy enough for the 40-degree weather, jeans ripped from wear and not for style, shoes practical but worn. His hands were balled up into fists on his legs, and every inch of his body was clearly ready to be on the defensive.
He reminded Jack of Gavin, when he’d first moved here from England, quiet and a little scared but also used to the fight, used to being on the defensive for others as well as himself, but not quite sure how to defend others sometimes (and that’d been the hardest part, with Gavin, getting him to understand that Dan hadn’t been his fault, he hadn’t needed protecting, he’d known what he was doing).
“Do you know who we are?” Jack asked softly. Jeremy had known, he had to have, having seen Ryan in the mask.
“Yeah. That’s why I want to know-”
“The fine’ll be $5,500.” The woman at the front desk sounded bored, and almost put out.
“Fuck.” The kid pressed both his fists into his eyes, before nodding to himself. “Alright. How long do I have to pay it before it goes up?”
“24 hours, but we’re keeping him here till the payment goes through.” She intoned.
“Fuck me.” He muttered. He pulled out a phone- pay as you go, the kind you could pick up at the front section of drugstore, Jack noted- and called someone. “Hey, Kdin. $5,500. How long?” There was a pause, and he shook his head. “24 hours till it goes up. Yeah, I know.” He paused again to listen, nodding to himself. “Rent’s not due for a month, and I can see if I can get more hours….no, I’m assuming after he got arrested they fired him.” There was a pause again, and Matt laughed at that, nervous and angry. “You’re shitting me, right? Take it. It’s Jeremy, I can save it up again. It doesn’t matter.” He turned to Jack then, not really looking at him, but staring somewhere above his head instead, his eyes wide and desperate. “We can make do some other way. Just…collect what’s around the house, and call me back.” Hanging up and sticking the phone back in his pocket, he collapsed on the seat next to Jack again.
“What’s your name, kid?” Jack asked kindly.
“Matt.” He stayed bent over, his arms resting against his knees and his head bent low.
“How much money do you need?’ Ryan finally came back over from where he’d been staring out the window, having a quiet conversation on the phone.
Matt looked between the two of them, shaking his head. “I don’t need-”
His phone went off again. Looking down at it, he sighed, answering. “Yeah.” He listened for a minute, before standing up and pacing. “Fuck, where are we supposed to get another $2,500? What can we sell?” There was a pause, and he shook his head. “No. Kdin, no. We’ll find another way, don’t go pawn it.”
He felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning, Ryan stuck something in his hand. “Before you protest, I’m not doing it for you. I need the good karma.” Nodding at Jack, they departed.
Looking down at his hand, Matt found himself staring at several thousand dollars in cash. “Kdin? Don’t do anything. I’ll…call you back.”
They didn’t see Jeremy for a couple of years after that. They had tried to keep tabs on him and Matt (and in the process learned that they lived with two other people; Kdin (the kid on the phone), and and some other kid), but somewhere along the way Jeremy disappeared into the cracks of Los Santos.
It was three years after they lost track of him that they ran into Jeremy again.
Or, not really ran into.
Caleb called Geoff. Geoff had given him his number after that time they left Caleb’s place after he patched them up and someone had come to try and kill him. Luckily, Gavin had left his phone there, and they had been heading back, but now…now they wanted Caleb to be able to call them. They liked having him alive and able to help them.
“Hey, Geoff? I need a favor. I have a friend- well, we’re not really friends, haven’t been for quite some time, but I do still like the dude- and anyways, he’s totally bleeding out on my floor right now, and I can take care of him and all, but…it was a hit from one of the lesser gangs in my area, he doesn’t know which one, and I sort of like living here, so can you just…take care of it?”
“Yeah, we’ll take care of it.” Geoff looked around the room, before nodding. “I’ll send Jack over to your place to make sure no one stops by while we do.”
When Jack got to Caleb’s apartment he opened the door just in time to see Jeremy trying to leave. A large bandage wrapped around his torso, and one arm in a sling, he didn’t look in good shape.
Immediately Jack was in mom mode. “Are you supposed to be up?”
“No, and he’s definitely not supposed to be trying to leave. What the fuck, Jeremy?” Caleb came back from the other room, and Jeremy winced, turning to face him.
“I…they’re gonna come looking for me, and you don’t need this sort of shit in your life.”
“Yeah? Is that why you left Matt, too?” Caleb looked like he regretted it immediately after saying it. “Fuck, sorry. That was low. Sit back down on the couch, I have people taking care of the situation.”
Glancing at Jack, Jeremy nodded. “I can see that. I thought Matt didn’t want anything to do with any gangs?”
“No, Matt just didn’t want you getting yourself killed by any gangs.” Caleb said flatly, walking into the kitchen where a pot was hissing. “I made you soup, by the way. Jack, you can have some too if you want. Thanks for doing this, by the way.”
“It’s no problem.” Jack sat at the small dinette table in between the living room, where Jeremy was slowly lowering himself back onto the couch, and the kitchen, where Caleb was stirring a pot. “That’s what Geoff gave you his number for.”
Jeremy watched the interaction suspiciously. He remembered Jack, remembered back before he’d been arrested. He knew that this was a member of the Fake AH Crew.
He also knew it was who paid his fine way back when, who gave Matt the money to get him out of jail.
But he knew better than to think of it as a gift, whatever Matt may have said. He’d been working with guys like Jack and Ryan for three years now, and he knew what they were like. They didn’t just give away money. There was always strings attached.
Maybe now they were coming to collect. Probably any one of the gangs he’d been running for would pay them back their full money’s worth if they turned him over to them.
He knew better than to ask, though. He’d just wait and see what they wanted from him.
He laid down sideways on Caleb’s couch, thinking. He hadn’t meant to come here. Didn’t want to get Caleb mixed up in any of this shit. But he didn’t know anyone else who could help him pull the shrapnel out of his chest and stitch him up, and his hands had been shaking so bad from the blood loss and the adrenaline that he knew if he’d tried he’d have just made it worse. Plus he was concussed, and he had a dislocated shoulder, and he knew that if he’d tried to set it himself he might have passed out, and then they’d be able to find him again.
But he really hadn’t wanted to get Caleb involved, especially not when he knew Caleb would just call Matt as soon as he left.
But apparently Matt was the least of his worries, seeing as Caleb had called the Fakes when he’d arrived.
Realistically, he knew he should be preparing himself, staying on guard, but his head felt like it was going to explode and his shoulder was killing him and he’d been gutted open about an hour ago and realistically, if they were gonna kill him, he was in no way going to be able to stop them.
Fuck, but this was such a bad situation. Maybe he could convince them to wait till after they left Caleb’s apartment at least. He did like Caleb.
“Geoff said they’ve gotten the situation mostly taken care of.” When Jack spoke next Jeremy realized he’d passed out again. Glancing at the clock on Caleb’s wall, he noted he’d been out for a couple of hours.
“Good.” Caleb was sitting at the table next to Jack. Neither had noticed that Jeremy was awake.
“You never mentioned you helped anyone else out.” Jack’s voice was soft, non-confrontational.
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t. I haven’t seen him in…fuck, I think maybe two years? When he showed up at my door it was like seeing a ghost or something.”
“He used to deliver pizzas to our apartment. We gave his friend money to bail him out of jail once.”
Caleb laughed. “Yeah, I know. Matt told me about it. It was not long after I’d started helping you guys out, and he was afraid you guys were gonna come collect on Jeremy’s head or something. I told him you guys weren’t like that. But…”
“But what?” Jack asked, frowning.
“They already owed so much money, and Jeremy was afraid you guys were gonna come collect yours eventually, so he started taking jobs from smaller gangs. The bad kind.”
“Jesus. Like Haddock’s crew?”
“Yeah.” Caleb nodded, sighing. “Fuck, it was bad, though. He almost died a lot at the beginning. Matt…he and Matt fought a lot, about just about everything. That’s why I lost touch with him. We all did, except the bank deposits to Matt’s account never stopped coming. Matt didn’t want the money, didn’t want to encourage him, but it was really the only way we ever knew he was alive.”
“So now what’s going to happen?” Jack glanced at the front door. “Once the crew gets back?”
“When he wakes up he’ll try and leave. Fuck, he was trying to leave only an hour after he got here. He’ll try and pay me back, too, not like I don’t get enough money from you guys.”
“We like to make sure you’re well taken care of.” Jack’s voice was far kinder than any Jeremy had heard in a long time.
“I appreciate it.” There was a pause, and then “They headed back here now?”
“Yeah.”
They didn’t see Jeremy for another year or so after that, though they did finally start keeping tabs on him again.
That’s how they heard about his death.
They mourned him. But they knew it was inevitable, with the people he was working with.
Jack had approached him once- twice. But he was suspicious and not willing to let them help him. He always thought they’d want something from him, in return for them taking him in. Jack just wanted to help.
And then he died.
It was two days after he died that he showed up at their door.
“I…” He hesitated, looking down. Ryan looked at him silently, waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t know where else to go. And I heard…you guys are like me. I’ll do whatever you want, just…please.”
Ryan simply nodded at him, opening the door a little wider.
And so Jeremy joined the crew. Not officially, and not permanently. But he was always around.
He didn’t really interact with them much as a group. He didn’t really trust them. Didn’t trust their initial promise that they didn’t want anything of him that he wasn’t willing to give. But Jack…he trusted Jack. Caleb trusted Jack, and Caleb had always been a good judge of character.
It was about 6 months into this that Ray left.
Jeremy didn’t know all the details. He just knew that Ray left for a newer gang- Twitch- in a nearby city. It took them a couple of months to officially ask him to join. It was a slow process, of him just being invited to more and more heists, of them slowly but surely moving him out of one of their safe houses and into their penthouse.
He was a sniper. Not as good as Ray, but they tried not to make comments.
He also could brawl like the best of them. Better, actually, even than Michael.
They also learned he had a surprising knack for knives, and even more surprisingly, he could wield that one sword Ryan kept in his room.
That had been a fun one. He’d done it on a bet, actually. Gavin had bet him $800 he couldn’t slice a watermelon clean in half with it in one go.
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Wot?! Why do you know how to do that??” Gavin had, of course, been impressed.
Jeremy just wanted them to be impressed with him. He wanted them to need him. It’s why he started doing it.
But Geoff was way too drunk to confront him about this right now. So instead, Geoff went to find Jack.
“Have you noticed how often Jeremy lets us kill him?” Geoff could already feel himself sobering up a tiny bit- downside of being immortal was alcohol had a lot less of an effect, and it didn’t last nearly as long. On the upside, there was no chance for a hangover.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, actually.” Jack was in his own personal room. While they all shared most of the space in the penthouse, and more often than not ended up in one of each other’s beds, they all also had their own space. “He does seem to do it more than the others.”
“Do you think…” Geoff wasn’t really sure where he was going with this, wasn’t really sure what he thought. It just was too familiar for him. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s a problem?”
Jack turned to face him finally, looking up from the plans on the desk. He paused a moment, hesitating. “Do you think it’s a problem?” His voice gave nothing away.
“I don’t know. People take to being immortal differently, and really he’s only known for what, a little less than a year? It could just be that.” But Geoff didn’t sound very sure.
“But you don’t think it is.” Jack looked at Geoff for a moment, before nodding to himself. “You think it’s like Joel, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Geoff shook his head. “I do, and I don’t. I don’t think…Jeremy wants to die, exactly? But it’s just…too similar to ignore, you know?”
“I know what you mean.” Jack nodded. “The problem is…he still doesn’t trust us. Not entirely, at least.”
Geoff knew it was true.
Jeremy tried to trust them, really he did, but he knew better. He knew better than to just let people in, than to just let people get close like that.
He knew how gangs like this were run, and he knew the price you’d pay if you couldn’t cut it.
They didn’t seem like that, but he knew better than to let himself be fooled.
Last time that happened…bad things had happened. They’d almost traced him back to Matt.
Matt. He still gave most of his money to Matt. It wasn’t enough- it’d never be enough. He owed Matt so much more than just money. But it might be enough that Matt could finally open his own garage, stop working shitty dead end jobs. It might be enough to keep Kdin from having to take anymore dead end jobs from the sort of folks who couldn’t respect her. It might be enough to keep Trevor- Trevor, older than him and yet always like the little brother- from following his path and joining up with a gang.
He hoped it was enough. He didn’t have it in him to ask Caleb, knowing that Caleb would just go tell Matt.
He didn’t even have it in him to go see Caleb, not unless he had to, not unless the other Fakes were.
He was only really comfortable when they were on a job. He knew where he stood there- he knew what to do, and he was good at it, too. They’d realized his skills were often better utilized with him on the ground level, instead of him as a sniper. He still was generally a better shot than the rest of them, but not all of their jobs required a sniper, and when they didn’t? Then he got to have some real fun.
He’d developed his own style, and kept enough money to pay for it. He understood enough to know he had to look the part- had to look like he belonged to the Fakes.
Gavin was properly horrified the first time he’d walked into the penthouse with his new attire, velvet purple clashing with orange corduroy and a cowboy hat completing the look.
“Lil J!” Gavin had squawked, flapping his arms about. “What sort of monstrosity is that?!?”
“My new look.”
He didn’t wear it all the time. Just when he needed that sort of edge. He’s not sure when or where he got the name Rimmy Tim, but it stuck, just like the outfit did.
Most of the time though, he just wore his leather jacket and aviators. The cowboy hat often made an appearance as well.
He was good at faking the confidence that went along with the outfit. He got another name- Monster Truck- and a reputation to go along with it.
It didn’t completely stop him from feeling like he was just there as a placeholder, the replacement for Ray- for Brownman- but it helped.
And slowly but surely, he grew to trust them. It was the little things that helped me understand them better.
He understood that Geoff cared- really cared- about his crew, that that’s why he wanted to throw them parties and make sure they had anything they could ever want. That that’s why he bought extravagant gifts like gold plated airplanes and fancy cars, that that’s why they all lived in the penthouse together.
He understood that Jack wanted to help people, and he wanted people to be happy. That that’s why he’d always tried to help Jeremy. Why he and Ryan had paid his fine. And that’s why, after they realized Jeremy had seen almost no movies, Jack instated a Fakes movie night.
(And that had been a fun little sharing moment, several weeks in, when Gavin realized that Jeremy understood literally zero of his movie references.
Gavin had loudly squawked “Wot? Where was your childhood, Lil J?!”
Jeremy had, of course, rather sarcastically replied “Didn’t really have one, Gavvers.” And it only took about three minutes of him retelling bits of his horror story of a childhood for Jack to loudly announce that movie night would now be a thing.)
He understood that Ryan liked the murder, but that he didn’t do it without consideration. That he didn’t murder people he thought were good- really good- that he didn’t murder interesting people. That he went on murder breaks not just because it was funny to mess with Geoff and not do his job but also to make sure he could, to make sure he still was completely in control.
He understood that Michael had left Jersey and the Family specifically because he wasn’t like them, wasn’t like the muscle from most lower gangs. That Michael hadn’t wanted to have no say in what he did, hadn’t wanted to have to just follow someone’s orders even if he didn’t agree with them.
He understood that Gavin had lost so much in such a short time span and he’d moved continents to try and feel better, and had built up a whole little family for himself. That he did love shiny things and glitzy things and he was a bit ridiculous, but that he also put up a damn good show in the hopes of hiding the fact that he was afraid of losing anyone else he cared about.
And as he understood more and more Jeremy learned where he fit in. How he fit in the spaces in between. He still wasn’t really one of them- not part of the inner circle, not yet. He hadn’t taken that final leap.
They had told him “an open door’s an invitation”, and had left their door open when they went to bed together, but.
But.
He was scared, still. Scared that he was just a placeholder. Scared what it would mean if he wasn’t.
He was in love with them, though.
He was in love with all the little things that came with living with them. Like thinking he was home alone, only to walk in on Michael doing Tom Cruise’s dance from Risky Business, complete with no pants and a sock slide down the hall.
Like Gavin buying him a ridiculously expensive pair of sunglasses after realizing Jeremy never spends his money on anything like that for himself. On coming home to find a brand new leather jacket.
Like Ryan’s ever growing collection of plants, the small succulents and ferns that litter his room and have slowly but surely made their way outward, the plants that have invaded every space in Geoff’s apartment (the plants that have somehow made their way into Jeremy’s room too, not that he really minds).
The little things, like Jack checking up on all of them after every heist, like Jack donating some of his money to teenage homeless shelters, Jack not asking why Jeremy put most of his money in a bank account that he never accessed.
Like Geoff, bringing them all together, building this weird little family for them all, making the penthouse a safe space for them.
Making it a place where they could be together.
He’d wanted to join in.
Been planning to, before he got kidnapped.
They weren’t even planning a job soon. He had just been the one to draw the short straw- “haha, short, get it, cause you’re Lil J” Gavin had cackled- and so he had to go on a bev run.
That’s when they picked him up. Masked men, and into a van he went. He fought, definitely, but there were four of them and he got like four hits in before someone hit him across the back of the head with something hard- a bat, maybe.
He’s pretty sure he felt the crunch of a broken nose though, which was satisfying enough in the couple seconds before he blacked out.
When he came to, he had a killer migraine. He was also in a warehouse somewhere. Unimaginative, but also unsurprising. There was a spotlight on him, and the rest of the warehouse was dark. He was chained to a chair, which when he tried to move he found was bolted to the ground. Clearly his reputation proceeded him.
He’d been kidnapped a couple of times before. Being the newest member, people thought he’d be more likely to give them up.
The last time that had happened, he’d actually managed to break through the rope.
His captors came in then. It was dark, too dark for him to be able to see them.
“Do you know who I am?!” He was used to this, knew what to say to set his captors on edge. Besides, he always got to have a little fun, and it always made a good story to tell.
“Actually, yes, Lil J. I know exactly who you are.”
That voice.
The Vagabond’s voice.
And it was the Vagabond who stepped out of the shadows, skull mask and all. He crouched in front of where Jeremy was sitting, chained up. “Hey, Jeremy. You know why you’re here, I assume?”
“Ryan?” Jeremy had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t have a good feeling about this. That was Ryan’s Vagabond voice, the voice he used when he meant business, when he meant to hurt people. “I don’t…what’s going on?”
Ryan struck him suddenly, hard and fast, a backhand across his cheek. “It didn’t have to be like this. You had every opportunity to fix this, you know.” He walked over to the side, into the shadows, and Jeremy could hear him moving things around. He was struck, suddenly, but the fact that he’d never heard Ryan sound quite like this.
“Ryan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I do?” Jeremy’s voice was quiet. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he’d do whatever it took to fix this.
“You know what you did, Jeremy.” Ryan’s voice was dark as he came back into the light, carrying a knife with him.
“Ryan, please.” Jeremy’s eyes went wide and his voice cracked as Ryan walked closer. He brought the knife to the bottom of his shirt, slicing it open. He then stabbed the knife into the arm of the chair, next to where Jeremy’s arm was chained down. Jeremy flinched.
“I don’t know what you want from me here, Jeremy. We gave you every chance, and you just kept fucking it up.” Ryan walked back into the darkness, this time coming back with a hammer. “Pick a hand.”
“Ryan…” Jeremy stared at Ryan, hoping for something- anything. But the dark skull mask gave away nothing.
“I’m not going to ask again. Pick, or I’ll break both.”
“Left.” His voice shook as he responded. Jeremy had broken his hand before- both of them, actually, He knew how much it hurt. And he knew that if it didn’t heal right, he’d have to re-break it to set it.
“Unfortunately, that’s not what I want to do.” Ryan brought the hammer down on his right hand, smashing it. Jeremy cried out, his body jerking in the chair. “You’re going to apologize for what you did. But first, you have to be punished.”
“Ryan I’m sorry, please, I don’t know what I did but I’ll do wha-” Ryan struck him across the face again.
“You do now what you did, Jeremy. And you’re gonna tell me. But clearly you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” He paused, as if listening to someone, then nodded to himself. “I have to go- our jobs haven’t stopped just because you fucked up- but I don’t think we should just leave you here like this.” He gestured his hand outwards, and two masked men came in. They splinted his hand- something he was appreciative of, even if he understood it was probably just so he could keep doing work when all of this was over- and then they unchained him.
He didn’t even go to fight them. Seeing Ryan standing there, he understood- there was nowhere in the city he could go where he could escape this. Whatever was going to happen, he had to accept it.
Until he saw where they were taking him.
He hadn’t been able to see it before, as it was behind him. But it was a box. Small, but big enough to fit him, if he curled up.
He started to panic, then. He’d told them about his claustrophobia sometime after he’d started trusting them.
He actually started to fight then, thrashing about. It made no difference.
And then it felt like he was suffocating, as they closed the box lid over him.
“I’ll give you the night to consider what I’ve said. Maybe in the morning you’ll feel more like apologizing.” He could here Ryan walking away, but it barely registered past the roaring in his ears and the panic that was setting in.
He lost track of time in the box. It could have been hours. It could have been days. All he could feel was the panic, like a sickness, resting at the back of his throat, making him scream. He screamed himself hoarse. He pounded on the box as hard as he could, but it never gave. He bruised his non broken hand on the metal.
Eventually, thankfully, finally, the lid was lifted. He was abruptly yanked out, and he fell to the floor, heaving. He tried to throw up- he felt nauseous, and also maybe like he was dying from the inside out- but nothing came up, and he was left heaving, again and again.
They yanked him up off the ground and moved him back to the chair, and he’d never been as grateful as he was in that moment to be chained down, because at least being chained down meant he wasn’t in the box.
“How was your night, Jeremy?” Ryan’s voice was cold and calculating ad Jeremy kind of wanted to throw up again. Whatever he’d done, he just wanted to make it right.
“I…” His voice was rough sounding, not that that surprised anyone. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m so sorry, and I don’t know what I did, but I want to make it up to you guys.”
Ryan crouched in front of Jeremy, lifting his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. “You can make it up to us by acknowledging what it is you did and taking your punishment for it.”
Jeremy shook his head, not meeting Ryan’s eyes, instead looking down at his own lap. “I don’t know what I did.”
Ryan stood up, sighing. “Why do you have to make this so difficult.” He pulled the knife out of the arm where he had left it the night before. Jeremy flinched away. Ryan ran the tip of the knife up his chest, letting it stop at his sternum. “I really do want to set about on the path to forgiving you- we all do. But first, you have to acknowledge what you did wrong.”
Jeremy wracked him brain, trying to come up with anything he might have done wrong recently. But they hadn’t had any jobs, and he’d been getting along so well with everyone. “I don’t…”
“Still acting like you don’t know.” Ryan shook his head. “But of course you know.” He ran the knife along the inside of Jeremy’s arm, before adding a little pressure, making a long cut going up the inside of his bicep. Jeremy winced, trying to stay silent. Ryan repeated the action on his other arm. “Of course you know.”
His phone rang suddenly, sharply, and he sighed, pulling it out and answering it with a sharp “What.” Had Jeremy been aware enough to pay attention, he would have noticed that the phone was not Ryan’s. Ryan had a sleek black iPhone- nothing but the latest technology was allowed in the penthouse. This phone was a burner; the sort low life thugs carry. But Jeremy was not paying attention, too busy wracking his brain still, trying to think of what he could have done to deserve this.
He hung up, turning to face Jeremy again. “Where were we…”
It took the Fake AH Crew a week to find Jeremy. It was the longest it’d ever taken them, but the guys who kidnapped him had done their homework.
They’d hidden him away on the Fakes’ own turf- the last place they’d look.
They’d first received the call about an hour after he’d gone out for bevs. McCormick’s crew wanted to play with the big boys, and this was how they were going to go about doing it. They had demanded full access to the Fake’s warehouses- the lot of it, guns and money and safehouses alike.
Geoff had told them to fuck off. He figured they’d find Jeremy within a day or so, and it’d all be okay.
By the third day he was starting to get a little nervous. He still didn’t let it show in the call though, not even when McCormick hinted at the fact that Jeremy might be cracking, that they had a better way of torturing him. McCormick even offered to tell them what it was, if they gave him some information.
They didn’t. But they were starting to worry.
It wasn’t till the sixth day that they got a lead. Someone had seen McCormick on their turf, skulking around one of their warehouses.
When they got there, it was a bloodbath. They killed everyone, no questions asked. McCormick wasn’t there- of course not, rat bastard that he was.
It’s Ryan that gets to the back of the warehouse first. Ryan that sees the bloody knives and the empty chair, hears the screams coming out of the metal box. Ryan who breaks open the latch and pulls Jeremy out.
When the lid opens back up and Ryan is pulling Jeremy out of the box, he can’t help it. He just starts sobbing. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and “nonnono I’m sorry please, don’t I’m sorry please” just pours out of his mouth. There’s blood everywhere and Ryan can feel it staining all of his clothes but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Jeremy’s apologizing like he gave them up. He just had to pull Jeremy out of a box, and it’s only been a week but Jeremy actually feels like he weighs less anyway, and realistically if he did give them up Ryan’ll deal with it later, cause right now he just needs to take care of Jeremy. Jeremy, who’s right hand is bent all wrong and who’s covered in thin, delicate lines, the sort of cuts meant to hurt and scar but not kill.
When the rest of the crew comes in Jeremy feels the panic seeping in. They never come, why are they here now, what could possibly have changed to make them come.
“Hey, hey.” Ryan’s voice is so impossibly soft, and somehow that’s worse, this kindness now at the end. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all over now.”
And Jeremy sort of wants to throw up, because he still doesn’t know what he did, and he couldn’t even apologize and take his punishment properly, and he just wanted to know how to gain their trust back.
While Ryan is taking care of Jeremy, the rest of the crew boxes up the shit from around the warehouse. It had been an old, abandoned one, but McCormick and his crew had clearly been busy. They had more information on the Fakes than had ever existed in one area- clearly they had been doing their research for a while.
There were DVDs, too. They were all labelled by day, and Geoff just shoved them into a box, not wanting to deal with them. He knew what they were- knew McCormick’s style, knew he’d want to have a record of them torturing a Fake.
But he wouldn’t watch them- he couldn’t do that to Jeremy. If he wanted to tell them what happened, he would.
Eventually they left, torching the inside of the warehouse and heading back to the penthouse. In the van, Jeremy wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and flinched away from contact.
He was so very afraid, still. He’d trusted them, thought they were the sort of people who didn’t torture their own. Clearly, he had been wrong. He still didn’t know what he’d done, though, and that was the worst of it. It could happen again, because he didn’t know what he’d done.
And he didn’t feel he could ask, cause clearly they thought he should know.
So he wouldn’t say anything about it. Not to them, and not to Caleb, who so clearly wanted to know what happened when they stopped by his apartment. He had to re-break his hand, to set the bones. Pop his shoulder back into place. Stitch up the bigger wounds, patch up the smaller ones.
And Jeremy stayed silent through it all. He did wonder, though, if Caleb knew- if anyone else had ever fucked up this bad, or if it was just him.
It lasted two weeks. Two weeks of him both striving for their approval and shying away from it, of him hiding in his room every time he makes any tiny mistake, so they can’t see him shaking in fear. Of feeling the bile rise in his throat every time Ryan smiled at him, any time one of the other said “Good job, Lil J!” and patted him on the back.
The others assume it’s just him trying to cope. They watch his retreat to his room after heists, watch as he spends less and less time in the main area, and Geoff slowly but surely resigns himself to having to watch the tapes if this continues.
They’ve all had bad times. There’s always something that makes them crack, and Ryan had pulled Jeremy out of a box- Jeremy, who had serious claustrophobia.
Geoff hadn’t really been going to watch the tapes, though, not until the incident.
They’d all been hanging out in the living room. Fake movie night had resumed, finally, and they were all gathering around to watch it.
They were fine.
Until suddenly they weren’t.
Jeremy had gotten really good at pretending that everything was fine. He’d gotten really gotten at pretending like he wasn’t super unsettled, really good at acting like he was totally okay.
But he was tired, and he had let his guard down a bit, and Ryan had caught him off guard, said something or moved too close or something, and Jeremy had just. Panicked.
He’d yanked himself away, and suddenly he was falling off the couch, onto his ass on the floor. He could vaguely here himself begging, again, but his voice sounded far away to his own ears, remembering cramped spaces and the Vagabond’s cold voice. He stared up at the Fakes, who all were looking at him concernedly, and it occurred to him that now they’d know, know how much he couldn’t cut it, know how he was weak and broken and not like them.
“Jeremy…?” Michael asked hesitantly. Jeremy shook his head, not meeting any of their eyes.
“I…” He looked between them all, wildly, hands shaking again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what I did wrong.” He fled back to his room, locking the door and shoving his desk chair underneath the handle, grabbing his handgun out of his desk drawer, curling up in the corner of his room, trying to remember how to breathe.
He isn’t sure how long he sat there, curled up in the corner, trying to breathe, holding his gun tight, the safety off.
Cause now they would know. They'd know how weak he was, how he couldn't cut it in this world. They’d know he wasn't like them, that he was broken.
But he wouldn't let them take him back. He couldn’t….he was broken, and weak, but he couldn’t go back.
His hands were shaking, panic rising in his throat as he stared at the door.
They probably were trying to give him space, or time, of whatever.
After Jeremy had run out, Geoff had realized what he had to do. He knew that whatever he did, he should try and minimize the damage, so he told Gavin and Michael to go out for the night- they protested, of course, but he told them he’d let them in on what was happening later, he just didn’t want to crowd Jeremy. They eventually acquiesced.
As for Jack and Ryan…he knew he’d need Jack’s advice, and Ryan seemed to be what set Jeremy off, so he figured they should both be here for whatever this was.
When they popped the first disk in, it started focused on Jeremy, chained up to a chair in the warehouse. He slowly came to, and then started to talk.
But none of that was a surprise. What was a surprise was when Ryan- the Vagabond, stepped onto the screen.
Both Jack and Geoff turned to face Ryan at that, and Ryan stood up, staring at the screen in shock. “I didn’t…I wouldn’t.” He turned to Geoff and Jack at that, wide eyed, and they knew he was telling the truth.
The video continued.
As it went on and on, they began to understand why Jeremy had been acting the way he did. He thought they…he thought they had done this to him. He thought they didn’t trust him anymore, thought he had done something wrong, and that they had had Ryan do this to him.
“McCormick found someone who sounded like you.” They had all heard it. They all knew that. But Geoff didn’t know what else to say, as the video stopped. It wasn’t long, only a few minutes, him breaking Jeremy’s hand and then sticking him in the box.
“Please tell me one of the disks shows this fucker taking off his mask.” Ryan’s voice was dark, darker than they had heard in a long time. “And please tell me he’s still alive.” His voice and clenched fists promised bad things if he was.
Jack sighed. “We have to watch the rest of them, to see if it does. And we have to…we have to tell Jeremy, find a way to let him know this wasn’t us.” He stood up as well, sighing. Ryan started pacing. “I’ll go get the rest of the disks.”
It took several hours. The last disk, finally, had what they were looking for. As the disk ended- the same way they all ended, with the not-Ryan, this imposter Vagabond having him shoved in a damn box- the fake Ryan pulled off his mask, sighing. “Fuck, how much longer is this shit gonna go on?” His voice was a little higher, not quite Ryan’s, his face rounder, hair darker. “Tell the boss if it takes too much longer I’m raising my price.”
Ryan’s fists were clenched tightly, his breathing sharp.
Jack sighed heavily, watching Ryan pace, as Geoff stood up, looking between the two.
“We have to…show Jeremy. Tell him.” Geoff never sounded this unsure. Somehow it made everything worse.
“Show me what?” Jeremy had exited his room without any of them noticing. It was in the early hours of the morning by now, and he looked as tired as they felt. His voice was flat, however. Inflectionless.
“We didn’t…” Geoff started. Ryan just shook his head.
Jeremy looked between them and the screen, and winced. “You guys, uh, trying to figure out where you went wrong?”
Ryan growled. Jack sighed. “No, just…watch.”
He rewound the video a tiny bit, and let it play again.
Jeremy couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. “You guys…”
Ryan lunged forward suddenly, bending ever so slightly, his hands on either side of Jeremy’s face. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t ever.” Suddenly Jeremy found himself being hugged by the much larger man.
It was all a bit much for him. He could understand, technically, what he had seen. He could understand that someone had been pretending to be Ryan, and that he could still trust the crew.
But he still had that moment of fear, that moment where he jerked back.
Ryan immediately let go of him, shaking his head. “Sorry…I’m sorry.”
Jeremy looked between the three of them, wide eyed. “I just….I thought I was doing fine, finally, and then…” He hesitated, looking down. “I just…I thought you guys were different than the others.”
“We are.” Geoff paused, as if searching for the words. “If we had known…we would have just given up a safehouse and killed them later.”
“Who was it?” Jeremy’s voice was remarkably steady, given how shaky and unsure he felt. He could feel the panic rising again, but he fought to keep it down. Everything was fine. They wouldn’t hurt him- they didn’t hurt him.
It didn’t stop the fear from rising as he remembered what being locked in a box felt like.
“McCormick and his crew. The…the other Vagabond, he was some nobody, someone brought onto the scene specifically because he looked and sounded the part.” Ryan’s voice was dark, but as he spoke Jeremy wondered how he’d ever confused this darkness with the fake one’s cold calculating unfeelingness.
“Did you…” Jeremy stared off to the side, not meeting their eyes. “Did you kill him?”
“We will.” Geoff, suddenly and surely, stood up. “We’re going to start searching immediately. He and McCormick both got away.”
Jeremy nodded. “I…” Suddenly he felt lost, more lost than he’d felt in years, since he’d left Matt forever go. Matt. And wasn’t that someone he suddenly wanted to see again, with a sudden pang on longingness.
“You should sleep.” Jack advised, not unkindly. “We’ll let you know if we find him.”
Jeremy nodded mutely. Sleep. That seemed like a good idea, even if he’d been having nightmares of suffocatingly small spaces and cold metal boxes lately.
A couple more weeks went by before anything came of it.
The Ryan found him. He’d been masquerading as the Vagabond, using it to keep himself alive. But Ryan wasn’t having that any longer.
Once he had found him, Geoff let it be his problem, simply telling him to “be careful, alright?” But Ryan knew what that meant. And he knew how to make this right.
It was late, maybe 9 or 10, when he went to find Jeremy. “Jeremy.” His voice was soft, kind. “I have….something for you, if you want.”
Jeremy understood at his tone. They’d found him. And here, Jeremy had options. He could opt out, knowing that the others had taken care of it and the fake Ryan was gone. Or he could go with Ryan, and take of the problem himself, even though thinking about it still made him shake sometimes.
It really wasn’t a debate for him. He grabbed his hat and leather jacket and headed out immediately after Ryan.
Most people would consider it callous of Ryan to offer to let him come. They’d think it was uncaring, that Jeremy wasn’t ready. That torturing his torturer wouldn’t make it better.
Jeremy wasn’t most people.
And he knew what he was really being offered- a chance to take control back.
He was keeping him in one of their smaller warehouses. Chained up to a chair, and god wasn’t that poetic. Jeremy could appreciate the sentiment.
He could appreciate the wide variety of weapons laid out on the table even more.
“Do you know who I am?” That voice, low and dark, clearly still trying to play at being the Vagabond. Well. That just wouldn’t do.
“Actually, I know exactly who you are.” And god, how did he ever miss that low note in Ryan’s voice, how did he ever confuse the two, when the fakes voice was so flat in comparison.
Ryan moved into the light, Vagabond mask perfectly in place, a large knife in hand. He crouched in front of the other and tilted his head up to face him. “I don’t like you.” His voice was dark.
“He’s not the only one who doesn’t.” And god, Jeremy missed this, feeling almost in control. Working alongside someone and not worrying about fucking up.
“So, what, you’ve come to punish me?” And wasn’t that a mocking sound, that off kilter laugh as he dropped the Vagabond voice.
“Actually, we’ve come to kill you.” Ryan’s voice was blunt, sharp, and cold. “We’re just going to make sure it hurts the whole time you’re dying.” He nodded at Jeremy, who headed over to the table, rifling through the knives.
“Left, or right?” Jeremy came back with a mallet, and god but he was glad his voice didn’t shake. “Actually, fuck you. Let’s do both.”
It was a violent and bloody affair that night, and Ryan barely even participated.
Lil J had a reputation for a reason. He rivaled even Ryan in violent bloody crimes. He liked breaking bones more than he liked shooting people- liked feeling the impact with his own two fists.
He liked feeling like he was doing something.
But this time, it was personal.
It was also cathartic.
Things got a little better after that. It was a slow process, and everyone tried to be understanding. It came together piece by piece.
He had to relearn to trust them, after everything they’d been through.
And he tried. For the most part, it wasn’t too hard.
Really it was just Ryan. Not all the time, just occasionally, but it still happened.
He still had nightmares about being locked up in a box.
But things did get better. They did jobs, and he didn’t feel crushing panic over every little thing afterwards.
And slowly but surely, things went back to the way they were. Movie nights resumed, and game nights became a thing (guns were altogether banned after Michael shot Gavin over a game of monopoly).
He and Ryan got better. He started being able to go on jobs with him- hear him be the Vagabond- without panicking. He still tried not to be alone in the same room as him, though.
That was, until they realized their mutual love for cooking. Ryan was on a murder break, and when he did that he spent a lot more time in the kitchen- both baking and cooking- as it reduced stress. Jeremy had always had a penchant for throwing things together in a way that worked- they never had a lot of food, and you can only eat so much of the same thing before you want to explode, even if you are still grateful for having any food at all.
Also, it gave him an excuse to use knives.
So he and Ryan started baking together. They were silent, at first, just working in tandem with each other. But slowly they started sharing stories. Ryan told him about the Mad King, about Free Slay and what he used to do. About being a quiet man with a dark secret, never letting anyone close until Jack and Geoff had come along, with these three wide eyed new kids in tow, hiring him on to help them start this new crew. About not being sure how he fit in, about being afraid of being too violent for them.
Jeremy shared in kind, telling him, in a halting voice, sometimes pausing for too long, about being a kid in Boston with no chances, with parents who worked too much to ever pay him any mind. About stunted growth because of a lack of nutrients, about being bullied for that, about being locked in a gym locker and developing a fear for small spaces. About wanting to go to art school but barely graduating high school instead, about moving here to try and start over, about meeting Matt and struggling even more, about doing things…things he couldn’t face, things he didn’t want to talk about. About being punished for fucking up, and the constant fear that that’s what this crew was going to be like.
And Ryan understood.
And they started cooking dinner together. No one else was allowed in the kitchen when they worked, and they created delicious things, experimented with new foods.
They were good again.
Better than good, even.
Ryan was the first one to broach the subject again. To tell Jeremy that an open door was still an invitation, that if he wanted to go out they’d be happy to oblige.
He went on a date with them all. Started joining them in their beds.
Stopped being afraid that he was just some placeholder in their lives.
But nothing good in his life could ever last.
And that’s when Ray showed up again.
No one was expecting it.
There was no warning, no call. He just was sitting in their apartment when they came back from dinner.
“Did you guys miss me or what?” Arms spread wide, grin big, a pink sniper rifle propped up against the couch.
“Ray!” Michael was the first to react, first to recover from the shock, rushing forward and hugging Ray. “You came back!”
“Of course I did. What, did you think I could stay away forever?” He laughed, casual and light, before turning to Jeremy. “Looks like you guys found my replacement while I was gone.”
Gavin was the next to move, laughing at that as he went over to Ray and Michael. “Nah, X-Ray, no one could ever replace you. That’s just Jeremy!”
Just Jeremy.
Everything in him tightened a little bit at that. The anxiety came back. He felt it, bubbling underneath the surface. He was just a replacement. Just a placeholder till the real 6th member came back.
But he put on a grin and surged forward as the gents did, making nice with Ray. And that’s the thing- Ray was nice. A chill sort of guy. It was clear how he fit into the Fakes dynamic.
Made it all the more clear how Jeremy stood out in his place.
The next couple weeks were a blur. Everyone wanted to spend time catching up with Ray. It’d been what, like a year, maybe two since they’d last heard from him. They’d kept tabs, but it just wasn’t the same.
Jeremy started taking odd jobs. Side jobs, for Haus or whoever else needed a mercenary. It’s what he had done before, back in the day, only now his name came with weight and a reputation and a certain level of respect.
And it’s not like any of the harder jobs could kill him, even if they often did rough him up quite a bit.
This last one he’d just been too slow, got hit with a shotgun blast.
“Jeremy…” Caleb was judging him, of course. “Why don’t you ever just talk to people?”
Jeremy shrugged, then immediately winced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Caleb.”
“Oh really.” Caleb’s voice was flat, unimpressed. He never really had time for Jeremy’s bullshit, but it was always worth it to try. “You don’t like conflict. Oh sure, you don’t mind it if it’s physical. But emotional? Nah, you’ll avoid it and if you can’t? You run.”
“Fuck you, Caleb.” His voice held no real venom. Caleb was right, after all. He’d ran away from home as a teenager. Ran out on Matt, and Kdin, and Trevor. Ran out on Caleb half a year later when he tried to call him out on his shit. Was thinking about leaving the Fakes, now that they didn’t need him, before they had a chance to tell him.
“Prove me wrong.” Caleb slid a piece of paper across the table as he sat up, finished with bandaging Jeremy’s shoulder. “Call Matt.”
“Matt doesn’t want to hear from me.” Jeremy shook his head. “Not after all this.”
“It’s been years, Jeremy. How the fuck would you know what Matt wants?”
Caleb was right, of course. Matt probably actually would want to hear from him, and somehow that was worse. The idea that even after all this time, Matt would eventually forgive him. And if Matt did, Kdin and Trevor wouldn’t stay mad.
It was a tempting offer. He’d always missed them.
But he had left for a reason. He didn’t want them getting hurt, and that hadn’t changed.
He took the piece of paper on his way out though, shoving it deep into his pocket.
The thing was, he wanted the Fakes to want him still. Wanted them to need him. He just wasn’t sure they did. They’d hired him to be a sniper, but with Ray back, that wasn’t necessary anymore. He wasn’t necessary anymore.
What made him feel even worse was that he started to love Ray, too. The shitty meme jokes that the stoner made, his snarky, deadpan sense of attitude. His purple hoodie and DS left haphazardly on the table, the couch, the counter. His hot pink sniper rifle- which both made Jeremy smile, and made his insides clench up, just a reminder of why they’d hired him in the first place.
Jeremy had just been a replacement.
But he still wanted to be indispensable to the crew. That was why he started doing it.
It was subconscious at first. Whenever they needed something, he always tried to help, so it seemed fair that when they needed to vent, needed to direct their rage somewhere, he’d help them with that, too. If they needed to practice, if they wanted to test something out, well why not?
It stopped being subconscious after a while.
But it was fine. Everything was totally fine. He had it all under control, and it wasn’t like his death was ever permanent anyway.
Eventually, though, Jack confronted him on it. He figured Jeremy wouldn’t want a crowd, an audience to this conversation.
“Jeremy, I think we should talk.” Everyone else was out.
“Sure, Jack, what’s up?” Jeremy had just walked into the kitchen to grab a soda when Jack corned him, He leaned against the corner, facing Jack, who was seated at the bar.
Jack decided to be upfront about it. “You’ve been dying an awful lot recently.”
Something flickered across Jeremy’s face for a moment before he smiled. “Yeah, but it’s not like it matters, right? That’s the great thing about this- infinite lives!” He laughed as he said it, but there was something almost guarded in his too-casual expression.
Jack sighed. “Jeremy…why’re you doing it?”
“Doing what?” Jeremy feigned ignorance, but his inability to meet Jack’s eyes- his instead just straight gaze at the floor- gave him away.
“Letting the others- letting all of us- kill you all the time without any consideration.”
“I mean, there’s not no consideration put into it.” Jeremy justified, looking up past Jack at the opposite wall. “I don’t let you guys kill me if it’ll be a hindrance to something.”
“Yes, but besides that, you let us all kill you any time we could ever possibly want to.” Jack countered.
Jeremy sighed, before shrugging. “I mean, why not? Like I said, infinite lives. Besides, it’s not like anyone else minds- it’s more convenient, being able to test things out or vent or whatever without consequences.”
“Jeremy…” Jack sighed again, shaking his head. “Why do you do it?”
“I like the thrill of dying.” But even that answer fell flat, just short of the truth, and they both knew it.
“Jeremy…” Jack walked around the bar, coming to a stop in front of Jeremy.
“What do you want from me, Jack?” Jeremy looked up at that, arms spread wide. “What do you want here?”
“The truth, preferably.” Jack said, not unkindly.
Jeremy laughed suddenly, off kilter and sounding far too insecure. “The truth? The truth is it doesn’t really matter what I do- I’m just the replacement, the spare part for if Ray leaves again, and as soon as you guys realize he’s not going to I’m unnecessary. I’ve become the seventh wheel, because this was always a six-man relationship, and your ex came running back.” He looked surprised that he’d said it. “I- I didn’t mean that.” Looking at Jack for a moment, he fled.
Jack could hear the penthouse door slam as Jeremy left, and the other five walked in, looking confused.
“Why did Jeremy just flee our building?” Geoff asked cautiously, looking at Jack. Jack sighed.
Jeremy wasn’t really sure where he was going, he just knew he couldn’t stay there. Not in that penthouse, where he had so many happy memories, where they had so many happy memories without him.
He ended up on Skid Row. It was a familiar street to him, not that he’d ever told anyone but Ryan. He and Matt had lived there for a while, out on the street in the encampment- it’s actually where they met Trevor, who had tried to steal from them. Trevor hadn’t come to stay with them then, but they’d kept in touch, and when Kdin helped them all get their own apartment they’d invited him to stay.
It’d just been the four of them, back then. Plus Caleb, but he’d always been a little better off, able to take jobs at med clinics. Helping when he could. And Lindsay, who flitted in and out of their lives, running the same circles as them but never really joining them.
Life had been a hell of a lot simpler back then. It hadn’t been easy- they’d barely been scraping by- but it’d been simple. Their only goal had been to make enough money to buy a garage, so Matt could open a real practice fixing cars and they could start making real money.
They’d had to borrow a lot, as they lived in a bad part of Los Santos, and if you didn’t pay off local gangs you were as good as dead.
And then Jeremy had gotten himself arrested. It’d been a stupid fucking thing, but he was good at bare knuckle boxing, even if it was illegal. And he made more money in one night than he would working a week delivery pizzas. But the place got busted, and he got arrested for fucking battery even though it was an agreed upon match, and then he’d tried to say as much and they slapped resisting arrest on top of that.
And fuck, but that was a big fine. Of course Matt had tried to pay it off with the money he had saved for the garage, but the Fakes had given him money instead.
But now Jeremy had a felony on his record and no one would hire him, and he’d always had a knack for violence, so he started taking jobs from low time gangs.
They weren’t too bad, at first. Just running packages and such.
But they slowly got worse and worse. He was muscle for hire, a mercenary. He had to do things he didn’t want to talk about, things that made his hands shake and made him feel sick if he thought about them too much. Matt was angry. But he made so much more money- their savings practically doubled overnight.
Matt told him enough was enough, that he needed to stop once they could pay their debts. But he didn’t want to stop. This was something he could do, something he was finally good at. And it meant Matt could open his garage, meant Kdin could stop working at that bar where people made derogatory comments, meant Trevor could stop stealing and getting beat up. Meant maybe Lindsay would finally stay, instead of going wherever she went at night.
So he couldn’t just quit.
It didn’t matter how bad what he was doing was. It didn’t matter that he did things he never wanted to think about, that he knew some- most- of the things he was doing were wrong. He did them so that they’d be okay, him and Matt and Kdin and Trevor and Lindsay. He did them because they lived in Los Santos, and that’s how you survived here.
The first time he came home with a dislocated shoulder and a knife wound, they had gone at it. It was an all-out screaming match.
“Maybe I just don’t want to see you get yourself fucking killed, you ever think of that??!” Matt was livid, more so than Jeremy had ever seen him.
“I’m not gonna get fucking killed, Matt.” He’d tried to reason with Matt, to explain that even when they roughed him up, it rarely escalated too far, that even if they did try and kill him he was good, it’d be fine. Even when they punished him for fucking up, they still generally wanted him alive.
Matt wasn’t having any of it. He’d stayed at Caleb’s that night, after Caleb had reset his shoulder.
The first time someone threatened to pay them a visit- Matt, and Kdin, and Trevor, at their apartment they shared- he’d known what had to be done. And he’d wasted no time doing it. He killed the guy, packed his bag, and left. No goodbyes, nothing. Just out the door with his one bag.
He kept making deposits to Matt’s account. He wanted Matt to know he was alive, and still cared.
With shaking hands, he called Matt, sliding down to sit along the fence of Skid Row.
The phone rang once, twice. “Hello?”
“Matt.” Jeremy breathed out. He didn’t know what to say.
“…hi, Jeremy.” Matt sighed. He sounded tired, more tired than he ever had before. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Ten minutes later he found himself standing outside a garage, a neon sign labelling it Bragg’s AutoRepair. He grinned despite himself, and headed in.
Matt was waiting for him in the garage. He didn’t look surprised to see him. “Caleb warned me he gave you my number. I didn’t think you’d actually call.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Jeremy suddenly wondered if this was all just a big mistake, if he shouldn’t be here at all. “I see you got a garage, finally.”
“Jeremy, you’ve deposited over $500,000 in my account over the last few years. Of course I got a garage. I paid for it in full. I even have fucking insurance for it. But that’s not why you called.” Matt looked almost the same, wild hair and beard still unkempt, glasses and a hoodie still his main clothing pieces. He looked better, at least.
Jeremy wondered how much he had changed. “I missed you.” He felt like he’d been stripped raw just by coming here. He had nothing left to hide behind, for once.
Matt sighed, then, looking far older and more tired than Jeremy expected. “Yeah. I missed you too. What are you doing here?”
“I just…” Jeremy didn’t even know how to explain everything that had happened. Why it had happened.
Matt nodded, gesturing for Jeremy to follow him. They climbed the stairs at the back of the garage, ending up in a small apartment. The both sat, Jeremy on his couch, Matt adjacent on the armchair.
“I left to protect you guys.” He just realized he’d never told them.
Matt laughed, harsh and bitter. “I figured that out, eventually. Didn’t make it hurt any less when I first woke up and you were gone, all your shit gone too, no note or anything.”
“I shouldn’t have just left like that.” Jeremy nodded. “I should have said something.”
“No shit, Jerem.” And there was the return of that old, so very unimaginative nickname.
Jeremy’s phone went off suddenly, blaring loud, obnoxious guitar riffs. Glancing down, he noted that it’d been about an hour and a half since he’d left the penthouse. Geoff was calling him.
“You can take that, if you need to.” And there was Matt, ever the considerate one. Jeremy shook his head, shooting Geoff a quick text that said he was fine, and shooting Caleb one that said he was with Matt.
“I don’t need to. They don’t need me for anything anyway.” Jeremy laughed then, self depreciatingly.
“What, I thought you were one of them now? High glamor gangster, one of the Fake AH Crew, all that jazz.” Matt sounded unimpressed as he said it.
Jeremy shook his head. “Not really. Just the fill in for their real sniper, a placeholder till he got back.”
Matt rolled his eyes then. “You’re full of shit, Jeremy. Denecour keeps me updated on you, you know. He says you’re one of them now, whether you believe it or not.”
“Caleb’s the one who’s full of shit, not me.” Jeremy snarked back. “They don’t need me.”
His phone went off again. Michael, this time.
“Doesn’t sound like they don’t need you.” Matt arched an eyebrow at him. Jeremy scowled.
“They don’t.” Jeremy shook his head. “Ray’s back now, and what they need is to spend time with him- seven’s a crowd.”
“You…” Matt looked at him incredulously. Jeremy looked down. “How are you still such an idiot??”
Jeremy just shook his head again, before looking around. “Do Kdin and Trevor still live with you?”
Matt grinned. “Yeah. Kdin and Trevor both have rooms downstairs,” he nodded to wear another set of stairs could be seen on the other side of the room, “and Lindsay finally moved in with us like a year ago.”
“Any of them home right now?” Jeremy kept his voice cautiously neutral.
“Not right now.” Matt shook his head. “Kdin…she understood. But Trevor was angry. You know how he-”
Jeremy’s phone went off again, this time with Bad Moon Rising interrupting them.
“Just answer it.” Matt said with a sigh.
Jeremy glanced at him for a moment, before nodding, his expression going hard. He answered. “Hey, Rye.”
“Jeremy.” Ryan’s voice was inflectionless and nonjudgmental, but he could hear Geoff’s incredulous ‘He answered for you??’ in the background, as well as Jack shushing him.
“I’m fine.” Jeremy wasn’t really sure why they were calling him, other than out of some sense of responsibility. He felt guilt creep up in the back of his mind that they were calling him instead of spending time with Ray.
“I know. Geoff got your text, and then when you didn’t pick up for Michael Geoff called Caleb to see if he had heard from you.” Ryan’s voice was soft, and Jeremy sort of felt like crying. He didn’t deserve them, not when all he wanted was to intrude on their lives, be a part of it, take more than he should. Ryan’s end got quieter, and Jeremy assumed that Ryan had gone into his own room. “You coming home tonight?”
“I…” Jeremy sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You should.” Ryan paused, as if looking for the words. “Jack told the rest of us about the conversation you two had.” Quiet, nonjudgmental.
Jeremy had known that Jack would have told them. He had known it was coming. It still felt too real, still hurt too much. Now they would think that he couldn't care for himself.
“No, they won't,” he thought to himself, shaking his head, “…they'll just think I'm broken."
He started pacing, then, wanting to run, and yet not wanting to leave the relative safety of Matt’s apartment- Matt had always meant safety to him, even when they’d been fighting.
"They'd be right."
“And?” Jeremy was proud of himself for keeping his voice mostly steady.
Ryan sighed. Deep. Heavy. “Jeremy…” He seemed unsure how to continue.
Jeremy didn't want to hear it. Not from Ryan, not after everything. “It's fine. It's all fine. I'm just...gonna stay at a friend’s, for a couple of days. Let you guys enjoy some time with Ray.” He hung up.
“You can stay here, if you need to.” Matt was standing, facing him, when Jeremy turned around.
“I don't want to cause any problems or anything.”
“Just stay, Jerem.” Matt sighed. “It's fine.”
“Okay, Matt.” Jeremy nodded. “Okay.”
Kdin, Trevor, and Lindsay came home a couple hours later. Trevor and Matt got into an argument, drifting into the kitchen for some semblance of privacy. Lindsay nodded to Jeremy before drifting off upstairs.
Kdin sat down next to Jeremy silently.
Finally, “why’d you come back?” Jeremy figured he deserved as much, though it was not said unkindly.
“I don't know. I just…” Jeremy drifted off. Trevor’s voice got slightly louder in the kitchen. Kdin just nodded. They sat in silence, and eventually Trevor and Matt came back in.
Trevor headed downstairs silently, not looking Jeremy’s way. He figured he deserved that, too.
“He’ll come around.” Matt sounded sure, for once.
“Eventually.” Kdin just sounded resigned. “How long are you staying, Jeremy?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don't know.”
It ended up being a couple of days. They kept calling him, but he just...couldn't respond. Eventually he turned his phone off entirely. Caleb would keep them updated, let them know he was fine.
And then Matt didn't come home one day.
He knew. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. It was his fault.
The letter he received, requesting information about safehouses and information about the Fakes, confirmed as much. It also confirmed that it was McCormick that had taken him. It had no other information other than a single phone number.
So he turned his phone back on and called Geoff.
“What the fuck, asshole??” Geoff immediately yelled.
“McCormick took Matt.” It registered, somewhere in his mind, that Geoff didn't know who Matt was. But he felt vaguely dead inside and everything was cold and too much he couldn't explain who Matt was he just needed Matt back. He needed them to understand, to help him fix this.
Geoff sighed, and Jeremy knew he understood. “Okay. Come home, and we’ll plan something out.”
Jeremy agreed and hung up, and turned, finding himself facing Trevor. “I...I’m sorry. I shouldn't have come here.”
It was the first time Trevor had spoken to him in three years. “I want to help.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No...no. Matt would kill me if he knew I let you get involved.” “I would kill me” he thought.
“Jeremy..”
“No.” Jeremy was putting his foot down here. “I left so that none of you would ever have to get involved. I'm not letting anyone else get hurt.” He understood, realistically, that Trevor would be a fantastic addition. He’d never suffered from the moral quandary that Matt and Kdin had, and he’d always been light fingered. Plus, his charming baby face and easygoing smile made everyone immediately feel at ease around him, even if he was robbing you blind. He could kill a man and convince them it was their own idea- it hand been his best quality on the streets, the casual trustability. He’d be perfect.
Jeremy wasn’t going to do that to him, though. It would change him in ways that he didn’t deserve.
Trevor nodded, then, and Jeremy knew they understood each other again.
And so Jeremy went back to the penthouse.
Gavin had already set up his computer, trying to track down Matt and McCormick- clearly Caleb had told him enough about Matt that he knew what to look for.
Jeremy felt sort of sick, looking at Matt’s photo on Gavin’s screen. It was wrong, all wrong, this was why he had left in the first place. Matt should never have been in danger because of him.
He knew that right now, there was nothing he could do but wait. Gavin would do all he could to find where they were keeping him, but until he did, there was nothing they could do. Problem was, they didn’t have a lot to go off of- just the one letter, any cameras they could hack into that had seen Matt, and what little they knew about McCormick. The phone number had led to an untraceable burner phone.
Jeremy paced in front of Gavin’s computer while Gavin tried tracking them down, and they all let him, silently tracking his movements with their eyes, and somehow that was worse, this silent pity from all of them for what was happening. He felt sick, and his hands were shaking, and god he just wanted to hurt someone like he was hurting- make McCormick hurt for ever thinking coming near Matt was a good idea.
He should never have gone back to Matt’s. This was all his fault, and he didn’t deserve the pity that the Fakes were giving him. This was all his fault.
Everything bad in Matt’s life was Jeremy’s fault. He always hurt him. He hurt him when he used to fight, he hurt him when he left, and he hurt him now by getting him kidnapped.
They never worked well together. They brought out the best and worst in each other, and they were never really built to last. It was them against the world, only Matt never wanted to fight.
Matt never should have had to fight.
Jeremy felt vaguely ill thinking about what McCormick might do to Matt. Matt didn’t deserve any of this.
He continued to pace, and they continued to watch him, and god but he just wanted to fight someone. Everything hurt and this was all wrong and-
Gavin’s computer ‘pinged’, suddenly, and Jeremy stopped dead, whirling around to look at him. Gavin was bent over, furiously typing. “Okay, so I didn’t get anything, but I sent Lawrence a message telling him to set his computers to search as well, two is better than one obviously, and he didn’t really find anything either, but like, he means literally nothing, like all of his search came up with absolute crap, same as mine, and of course that-”
“Gavin.” Geoff’s voice was sharp, cutting off Gavin’s rambling. Gavin looked up, took in Jeremy’s tight frame and clenched fists, his staring blankly at the backs of the computers, and nodded.
“Alright, so basically there’s 10 dead spots in Los Santos, real dead spots, where you can’t see shit or get a signal either, and he’s in one of them.” Gavin typed something on his computer, frowning. “Lawrence says he can’t be in 1-3, Haus uses those, and we have 4-7, so he’s in 8, 9, or 10.”
“Where are those?” Ryan’s voice was dark, but Jeremy could barely hear what Gavin was saying over the roaring in his ears. His hands were shaking- fuck, his whole body was. He just wanted to make McCormick hurt, in a sort of way he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He’d only ever felt like this one other time, when JJ had threatened to pay Matt and Kdin and Trevor a visit.
That had been at the beginning. But he’d barely been recognizable when Jeremy was done with him, his face properly bashed in.
And that feeling then- multiply that by a thousand, and you’d get how Jeremy felt now.
This was the same man who had tracked down a man who sounded like Ryan to torture him. This was a man who thought it was okay to kidnap Matt.
He vaguely registered Geoff talking to him, telling him that maybe he should stay behind, maybe he was too involved in this. He’d not a hundred percent sure what he says in response, his entire body almost on autopilot, but whatever it is, Geoff understands, and suddenly Jeremy is in a car with them.
He vaguely registers that while he’s got a gun tucked in his waistline, it’s a basic 9mm, and the only other weapon he has on him is a bat he grabbed on the way out. He finds that he doesn’t have it in him to care- he’d beat everyone they see to death with a bat if it meant Matt was okay.
It was the last place they checked. It had to be, because it wasn’t any of the other places. Ray stationed himself on a nearby building- “no one’s gonna get away, I can promise you that” he’d said grimly, and somewhere in the back of his mind Jeremy wondered why he even cared.
He knew they were planning how to get in. He knew they were talking about him- talking to him. He didn’t register it. He didn’t have it in him to care. It wasn’t like it mattered if he fucked up, if he died- he’d just come back again, and again, and no one was ever going to hurt Matt.
They were moving into the building. He vaguely registered Ryan telling him what to do, and his body complied, even if he wasn’t sure what was happening.
It wasn’t easy, getting through the building to McCormick. There were a lot of guards, hired mercenaries who’s only job was to stop them. It didn’t matter, though. They all died. It was a bloody affair- bashed in skulls and blown out brains and broken limbs.
It was a whirlwind of murder and screams.
Eventually they made it to McCormick. He was on the other side of a glass wall from them, Matt with him, tied up to a chair.
McCormick leveled a gun at Matt’s head, and Jeremy’s blood ran cold.
Jeremy threw himself at the wall at the same time the shot rang out.
“Matt!” His voice sounded far away, and he saw red, and everything hurt and Matt couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t be, Jeremy hadn’t ever even apologized, and Matt couldn’t be dead.
He vaguely registered Geoff saying something, heard guns firing at bulletproof glass, and McCormick responding, laughing, but he continued to try and smash through the glass, because fuck, Matt couldn’t be dead he couldn’t be and McCormick needed to pay he needed to hurt he needed to bleed-
Ryan was pulling him back, then, and he wanted to fight him, because what the fuck, McCormick needed to pay, but Ryan just shook his head and pointed at Gavin, and fuck, but that was a rocket launcher, when had they even decided to bring that.
McCormick realized around the same time he did what Gavin was planning, because he started back up, saying something about negotiating, but Geoff was saying no, and then Gavin fired off a shot.
Ryan let him go at the same time the glass shattered.
He surged forward.
Every part of him was shaking- every part of him was full of rage. Both of his hands wrapped around the end of the bat, and fuck, but he just wanted McCormick to hurt.
There was blood everywhere, and he could hear bones breaking but it wasn’t enough, this wasn’t enough, Matt was dead and nothing was enough.
He could feel himself shaking as he dropped the bat. McCormick was on the ground, moaning, but this wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, Matt was dead.
He felt himself collapsing, but he didn’t have it in him to care.
Everything was too much and not enough and it hurt. It hurt, and everything was pointless, he spent so long away and this was his fault he should never have gone back and now Matt was dead.
Matt was dead.
He heard a gunshot, and knew Geoff had finished the job. He just didn’t care.
Jeremy was vaguely aware of Ryan coming over to him, of him trying to lead him away, but he couldn’t just leave Matt here, he needed to bring him with, he needed-
Ryan was nodding, then, moving to collect Matt’s body, and somewhere in his brain it occurred to Jeremy that maybe he was talking out loud.
He was shaking, though, and he couldn’t really deal with this. With any of this.
He followed Ryan- who was carrying Matt’s body- into the van. Matt. Matt was dead, and there was so much blood and no one was saying anything and everything hurt and why did this have to happen? Matt didn’t deserve this.
Matt never deserved this. Matt was a good person.
Eventually they arrived back at the penthouse. Jeremy wouldn’t let go of Matt’s body, wouldn’t let anyone else touch him, and no one tried to stop him, and somehow that was almost worse, this acceptance of his brokenness.
He was broken.
Matt was dead.
He sat on the floor of the penthouse for what felt like an eternity. Someone draped a blanket over him at some point.
Realistically it was probably only an hour before it happened.
Matt was dead.
And then he wasn’t.
He was sitting up, moaning, rubbing the back of his head. Jeremy couldn’t- he wasn’t sure-
“Matt?” It was barely a whisper. It felt like if he startled him he might just go back to being dead.
“Fuck, Jerem, what happened?”
So Matt was an immortal.
That thought had never even crossed Jeremy’s mind.
Matt was an immortal.
Matt wasn’t dead.
He also was vaguely annoyed. That was mostly resolved when they called Kdin, who then relayed to Trevor and Lindsay that Matt was fine- they left out the whole, dying for an hour or so bit.
He was also terribly surprised. Jeremy explained to him- how they didn’t know why it happened, just some people happened to die and then come back afterwards without ever aging again, how it was true for him and all the Fakes- but it was still weird. Something to get used to.
The Fakes seemed neither surprised nor not surprised. They mostly just seemed on edge around this newcomer, as if they thought he was here to take Jeremy away.
It was stupid, really, because why would they care if they were going to kick him out?
It was stupid.
It was, interestingly enough, Ray that ended up approaching Matt about the subject.
“So…are you guys a thing?” Blunt, straight to the point. Everyone was asleep in their respective rooms. Matt had come out into the living room to try and think things through, figure out what to do with the knowledge that he was immortal. He hadn’t noticed Ray sitting on the counter.
“What? No, we….no. Not for years now.” Matt shook his head, smiling fondly.
“I think he’s going to leave us for you. Leave them for you, I guess, since he and I never really became a thing.” Ray turned to face Matt, then.
Matt frowned. “He thinks they’d gonna leave him, now that you’re back.”
Ray shook his head. “That’s what Jack…he and Jack had a conversation about it, and it sounded like that’s what he thought. But then you showed up and no one was really sure anymore. They love him, you know. I kinda do too.”
“I know.” Matt turned to look out the window for a moment before sighing. “I did, too. I do, still, just not in the same way. I always thought…I’d be angry, if he ever came back, but then he did and I just…I missed him. He was my best friend.”
“He was so panicked, when you got taken.” Now it was Ray’s turn to share. “We could barely get through to him. We would have been worried he’d get himself killed, if that was the sort of thing we got worried about.”
“He always…” Matt paused. “He left to protect us. He always cared too much. You guys….you guys should talk to him.”
“We will.” Ray promised. “We will.”
And they had planned too, after Matt went back to his garage.
They didn’t for a while though. They still had to clean up the mess McCormick had been making in their city, which turned out to be an even bigger job than they had previously imagined. They ended up recruiting Haus to help tie up loose ends.
McCormick had been trying to take over their city, starting from the ground up. Because he’d been mostly sticking to smaller gangs, they hadn’t noticed, and now they had to reinforce the order that they created.
This was their city- theirs and Haus’s, really, but Haus was always deferential to them- and they were damn well going to keep it that way.
They all worked together, for once, and it was nice. Jeremy had never preferred being a sniper- he’d always liked feeling the impact of what he was doing- and so it was almost nice, having Ray there to snipe and being allowed to just straight up brawl.
Still. He knew it was going to end eventually.
He didn’t know what he’d do when it did. He didn’t want to go back with Matt, didn’t want to put Kdin and Lindsay and Trevor in danger, not when they had no way of knowing if they would be immortal.
And hadn’t that been a shock, Matt being immortal. Not something he’d ever thought could’ve happened, not something that’d even remotely crossed his mind.
But he had been.
And now Jeremy didn’t know what he was going to do. What any of them were going to do, realistically. He was just waiting for the Fakes to kick him out, but when they did, he wouldn’t have anywhere to go.
He didn’t have to wait long, though, before they approached him.
This time, it was Michael, funnily enough.
“So the others keep telling me to wait, that you need time or some shit, but that’s stupid, so I felt like telling you so.”
“What?” Jeremy had just been minding his own business in the kitchen, looking for something to eat, when Michael suddenly barged in through the front door.
“You’re one of us.” Michael frowned at Jeremy, pulling himself up onto the island counter. “And we ain’t just letting you leave.”
Jeremy just sort of stared at him blankly. Michael sighed.
“You aren’t a replacement. You’re Lil fuckin’ J. We need you, just like we need Ray.” Michael seemed exasperated. “And you’re dumb, to think otherwise, only everyone is afraid of confronting you because they weren’t sure you were okay after everything. But I’m not, ‘cause you need to know. You’re dumb.”
“I…” Jeremy seemed unsure what to say.
Michael frowned at him again. “Don’t overthink it. If you still wanna be with us- with us and Ray- then just fuckin’ do it.”
Jeremy nodded mutely. Michael smiled then, hopping off the counter. “Good talk, buddy.” He headed over to the couch, flopping down and turning on the TV.
Jeremy watched him, frowning. He knew Michael wasn’t bullshitting him, and so…they wanted him around.
They wanted him to stay.
He retreated back to his room. It was a lot in a short period of time, Ray coming back again and Matt dying and then not being dead and now this, them not viewing him as a replacement.
But wasn’t he just the replacement?
They’d hired him on to be their sniper because Ray had left.
But they’d been there for him before. They’d been tipping him far too much when he delivered pizza for them, and they’d paid his fine when Matt couldn’t. They’d let him stay with them after he found out he was immortal.
It was a difficult thing to wrap his head around.
They still wanted him around, if he wanted to stay.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to be a part of this weird relationship. He wanted to stay here and be one of the Fakes. And he could. They would let him.
He crept back out of his room. Michael was still watching TV, but Ray had joined him sometime in the past hour. Jeremy came and sat down next to Ray, frowning at the TV.
“Are you guys watching Cupcake Wars?”
“Fuck yeah.” Ray leaned back, smiling wide. “Cupcake Wars is fucking fantastic, man.”
“You.” Jeremy turned to look at him, laughing. “You are such a stereotypical stoner.”
“Hey man, don’t hate.” Ray laughed. “Michael likes it too.”
“It’s pretty great.” Michael agreed. “The shit they make is fuckin’ impressive.”
“Alright then.” Jeremy turned back towards the TV. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes as the conversation continued.
“Hey, we’re gonna try and pull off a lads job in a couple ‘a weeks.” Ray chimed in suddenly. “No gents allowed. You’re in, right?”
Jeremy knew it was more than that.
He knew that they were really asking if he was going to stay. If they were still good. If this thing- this relationship- was going to continue in the direction they clearly were all hoping.
And he knew how he was going to answer.
“Yeah, of course I’m in.”