Jonn: I'll Help You

The thief with the horned mask dropped Jonn off in the field. She put a finger against her lips, eyes shielded behind the mask’s lenses, and pulled back to sit somewhere quiet, and wait for him.

He nodded.

She could get him *in* the castle, of course. She’d been there before. But he wasn’t just breaking in this time -- he had before, to leave the gifts behind for Roddy and for Goro and Larkin -- and for *fucking* Mishka, sleeping in Hansel’s bed again -- but not this time. This time he just picked his way across the field, snow crushing under his boots. He’d leave a trail, but that was fine. Wasn’t like they weren’t going to know he’d been there, anyway.

He made it across the bridge, then scaled the stable, and carefully walked down to the other corner. He could see in the back windows, from here. He could see them milling around on the second floor -- the lights, the fire, brightly-colored packages. A lot of smiles and hugs. Some tears. He kicked a little snow off the roof and pulled his hood up, and settled down on his knees.

Hansel looked really fucking happy, every time Jonn saw him. He was doing that thing he did where he didn’t smile except with his eyes -- all the time. Sometimes really smiling. Laughing some, too. He looked fucking tired, and he had dark circles around his eyes, and Jonn didn’t know what the *fuck* Roddy was talking about with that possessed by Gruumsh shit -- but he looked okay. Spent a lot of time next to Mishka. Spent a lot of time next to Goro, too. Did that other thing he did, where he just casually draped an arm around them, like it was nothing, and turned his head towards them while he kept his eyes on someone else. Like they were still more important than whatever was going on in front of him.

Jonn crossed his arms around himself. Hansel disappeared, for a while, after he gave Larkin her gift -- Jonn recognized the onyx necklace he’d found when he’d done a sweep of Hansel’s ship, before selling it for scrap. He’d been ready to sell the necklace, too, because they needed fucking food, and rent money, and Hansel had jerked the gold rings out of his ears instead and viciously told Jonn to sell them instead. Sell fucking anything else. He didn’t know why Larkin got it, now, then. It’d seemed really important to Hansel.

And he gave the mandolin to Roddy, and Jonn liked that, though he wasn’t sure why.

Fucking cold out here. He kept waiting. Got tired of watching, after a while, and shifted to pull his knees to his chest, wrapping his cloak around himself more securely, to block the slight icy wind. Sighed out a breath and sniffled and propped his chin on his knees.

Finch had told him to stop crying and just please take the fucking chocolate coins to Larkin, already. Jonn’d grabbed him and made Finch hold him for a while, but it wasn’t the same. And he was the only one who’d put up with it at all, and he was in Skyport, and Jonn was in Glimmerton -- and Hansel was in Glimmerton, but Jonn couldn’t get any closer to him than this.

He’d said *I miss you*. And *I love you*. And *You been good?* And Jonn had been trying (stay with the guild; stay with Finch; stay busy; remember the rules), so he said *yeah*. Hansel had leaned over the balcony railing to get closer and he’d looked so … fucking sad.

These were the things Jonn knew about Mishka: He had fire magic. (*Decimate a galleon with one spell,* Hansel had told him, in one story.) He could turn invisible and teleport. (*Disappear and get behind you with a rapier before you even knew it,* Hansel had told him, in another.) He had compulsion magic. (*Make a pirate crew have to fight itself,* Hansel had told him, like it was some fantastic trick.) He had taken Hansel apart in one conversation. (*I don’t fucking understand,* Hansel had told him, drunk and sobbing.) Because of him, Hansel had come home bloody and starving and never been the same again. (*Blood in the water,* Hansel mumbled in his sleep, *Red sky at dawn.*)

And then -- somehow -- Hansel had just forgiven him. And he was in there under Hansel’s arm, now, with Hansel smiling at him with his eyes and kissing the top of his head, and Hansel was looking at him in that soft way he did when he thought no one was watching.

That didn’t fucking add up for Jonn.

He realized he was crying because his face felt hotter and colder at the same time, and wiped at his face in annoyance. It didn’t fucking stop, though. Fucking Mishka had Hansel again and there was nothing Jonn could do about it anymore -- no fucking Diva, no Helena, no one strong enough who gave a shit. He didn’t fucking *get it*. He knew that people didn’t care about him, but people cared about Hansel, and they were just letting this *happen*. They fucking knew what Mishka could do, and they were still just letting him cling to Hansel like a fucking tick and drain him. Like he fucking deserved to be anywhere around Hansel. Like he deserved anything but a knife in his belly and another in his fucking throat.

Jonn hid his face and just listened, for a while, to the muffled sounds coming through the glass, drifting across the courtyard. Roddy playing his lute. People chattering and laughing. Wasn’t fucking right. Jonn knew what he was; he knew he should be out here literally in the fucking cold, but if Mishka got to be alive at all, he should be out here with him.

Eventually, he heard the door opening, like he’d known it would, and raised his head again. Could’ve been someone else -- could’ve been anyone else, stepping out for fresh air or a smoke or something -- but it was Luci, like he’d bet. Roddy'd said she’d be there, and Jonn knew she couldn’t take big groups of people for long. And now he just fucking -- stopped, and didn’t do anything but watch her taking a long, deep breath and rub her arms in the cold.

He should leave her alone. He should just leave her alone. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore, and that was okay. But god, he missed her so much.

He whistled the little tune they’d used, at the Sanctuary, to get each others’ attention across the gardens and across the echoey hallways, and her head jerked up, eyes darting around until he pulled his hood back, and she locked onto the movement. Then froze. Again, he thought -- *I should leave her alone. She wants me to leave her alone*.

She raised a tentative hand.

Jonn knew that didn’t mean *come closer*, but he still tumbled off the roof, fucking gracelessly but managing to land on his feet, and darted across the courtyard. Luci drew in a little breath as he slid to a stop just in time to grab her in a hug, but then she hugged back.

He couldn’t tell if he was crying again, or still. “I miss you.”

Her arms tightened around him, and she hesitated a moment, then whispered, “I miss you, too.”

He didn’t ask her why she’d told him to leave. He didn’t ask her if Hansel was okay. He didn’t ask her if she was getting along with Roddy, or why the fuck people were letting Mishka be around Hansel. He asked, “Are you fucking taller than me now?”

Luci laughed and pulled away and wiped a sleeve across her eyes. She stood very straight, and he checked her boots to make sure they weren’t heeled, and stood very straight and squinted at her.

“Fuck. Man, fuck you. You are.”

She gave another teary laugh and threw her arms around his neck again, holding on tight. He propped his chin on her shoulder and forgot for a second that most of the people in the castle wanted to kill him, and closed his eyes, and sighed, and was calm.

After a moment, Luci said, “Hansel told me you did something … really … bad.”

“Trying to protect him,” Jonn mumbled.

“I know, but --.” She pulled back and gripped the edges of his cloak, staff tucked into her elbow. “*Don’t*. You just … make things worse.”

He didn’t respond right away. Fidgeted with his nails. “He’s gonna get hurt again. Like last time. Mishka … You weren’t there.”

Luci glanced up and over her shoulder, towards the balconies. “I know, I -- I mean, I don’t know.” She looked back to him. “I don’t know. He seems -- nice, and -- Hansel loves him. I think -- needs him.” She was fidgeting too, with his cloak, looking doubtful and -- scared. “And you didn’t help. It’s just -- worse, now, because Hansel needs you, too, and you can’t come inside, and …”

She trailed off. He studied her for a beat. Not sure if she was scared for him, or of him. Of what he might do. Hansel would tell him *don’t*. She always said *no*. They all knew that he never listened when it actually mattered.

His hands itched to drive a knife into Mishka’s pretty eyes.

“I’ll stop … doing things,” he said slowly.

Luci raised a hand between them, pinky out. “You have to promise.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“You have to.”

“Luci, I don’t wanna argue --.”

“Then don’t lie,” she said firmly. “And tell me you won’t do anything to Mishka, or -- or to Goro -- or anyone else, because it’ll hurt Hansel. Just -- stop, okay?”

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone but Mishka,” he muttered. “I like Goro.”

She gestured expectantly with the hand between them.

Reluctantly, he linked his finger with hers. “As long as Mishka’s not -- fucking with him,” he hedged. “And when I find out that he is -- *when* --.”

“If anyone hurts Dad again, I’ll help you,” she said, eyes locked on his. “And we won’t fuck it up this time.”

Huh.

He wondered when that had happened.

“Okay.”

They shook on it, and she kept looking at him, sharply -- studying him back -- before nodding, and sniffling, and hugging him again, still just as tight.

“I really do miss you,” she said. “Do you have to go soon?”

He thought of the masked thief waiting for him in the field. “Yeah, but …” She’d been waiting for a long time, already. He was going to get in trouble. “Yeah.” He didn’t let Luci go. “Listen, Roddy can get in touch with me, if you …” She wouldn’t need him. “I mean, if you wanna talk to me,” he said delicately, because that didn’t seem too likely, either.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Okay.” She didn’t let go, either. “Um. I love you.”

Jonn clung to his sister fiercely. “I love you too.”