Chapter Text
When Jinx had lunged at him that night, with the fire illuminating the dark sky as thick smoke poured out of the remaining broken windows of the old canning factory, Silco had been certain that she was going to attack him.
But she hadn’t.
She’d clung to him in a way that no one ever had; desperate, hurting, manic. In that moment, it was clear; anyone was better than no one.
“She left me.”
He’d felt his gut twist as his gaze drifted up from her and settled on the dead form of Vander only a few feet away from them, the fire casting harsh red light over his still body. Silco’s mind had flashed back in an instant to the two of them in the filthy water, Vander holding him under as the toxins burned through the fresh wound on his face. He could feel the water in his lungs, the clenching of his heart, his nails desperately digging against Vander’s skin and sleeves for purchase. For some sort of release, for escape. For mercy.
The pain had been unbearable, but it was nothing when compared to the emotional pain he’d felt as his brother in arms, the closest thing he had to family, tried to drown him.
“She is not my sister anymore.”
She was hurting. Like he had been. Like he was. Even if Silco tried to insist that he no longer thought about what had happened, no longer thought about the betrayal or relived it some nights, he’d be lying. The pain was always there. Even on those days when he’d thought it was gone, it would eventually rear its ugly head to remind him of what had happened that night in the water.
Silco had looked down at her then, raising his arm. The silence was filled with the crackling of fire, the pattering of the rain as it soaked them both. He’d wrapped his arms around her carefully, gingerly, and when she didn’t protest his grip became more sure, his chin resting on the top of her head.
She’d been abandoned too. Betrayed. He’d never thought that he would find someone who understood, and yet here she was. And they clung to each other as if the simple action would make it all go away.
“It’s okay,” he’d rasped eventually, “We’ll show them. We will show them all.”
Silco wasn’t aware of how long they stayed like that but he only made to move when she started shivering from the cold rain that was still falling on them. He’d tried to pull back, but she hadn’t let him, clinging to him so tightly as if she thought that letting him go would make him disappear. So he’d picked her up and stood, glancing at Fennick and Ran who were on his left.
“Dispose of the body,” he ordered.
Despite their injuries, they didn’t complain and immediately made a beeline to Vander’s body that was lying in the floor. Silco turned away, a hand resting on the back of the girl’s head, and despite his exhaustion he started to walk away from the old cannery. Lock, who was carrying a passed out Sevika, followed wordlessly, and that was the moment that Silco walked away from his old life and into a new one.
——-
Silco didn’t know how to be a dad. Then again, he supposed that was the same for everyone who had a child for the first time.
When the girl had said that her name was Powder, she’d said it with such disdain that Silco had to try not to smile. It was only when he said her name firmly a few days later and saw the way that she curled into herself that he realised the extent of the negative attachment to it.
He pulled her into his lap after that, a strange feeling of guilt sitting in his stomach. His paperwork forgotten on his new desk, he just held her close, stroking the back of her hair.
“If you don’t like you name, you should change it,” he said after the silence had stretched on for a while, “You can leave the old behind and start to embrace the future.”
She sniffled but kept her face hidden in his shoulder. “I wouldn’t even know what to change it to,” she sulked, words muffled by the fabric of his waistcoat.
Silco smiled slightly. “Anything you like. Something not associated to the past, or something of the past that you can reclaim to make you stronger. Something you can feed into that desire for strength.”
She stayed quiet for a long time, even as he pulled his chair forwards and went back to his paperwork. He got through half of it and two cigars before she spoke again, small hands clutching the front of his waistcoat.
“She called me a jinx. Before she left. She- she said that Mylo was- was right and that… that I was bad luck.”
His pen stopped scratching along his work as he glanced at her, although he could only see her blue hair; her face was still hidden. He didn’t ask who Mylo was. He knew that she was talking about her sister though and that was all he needed to know.
Silco considered his words for a few moments before speaking.
“Do you wish to reclaim that word? The word, the insult, only has power over you when you let it. You can find strength in yourself to not feel pain about it if you choose to reclaim it and make it your own.”
She pulled her head back so that she could look up at him with those watery blue eyes and she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. There was doubt in her expression, but a kindle of hope too. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of it; that little spark of hope.
“Really?”
“Of course. But only if you choose it. You can choose a different name-“
“No. No, I- I want to try it.”
Silco smiled slightly and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She leaned into the action even if it was brief.
“Very well,” he said, “We’ll try the name Jinx.”
It had been hard at first. Not for Silco, he’d barely known her as Powder so he had no trouble remembering, but sometimes it seemed hard on Jinx herself, to hear the word being used. She still insisted to use it though and that made Silco proud; that was strength right there, facing something that hurt and still moving through it.
Over a few months, she seemed to get used to it, although Silco was still careful to not say it too harshly, even if he was annoyed or having a difficult day. Sometimes he had Sevika look after her on the worst days, just to ensure that he couldn’t hurt Jinx in any way at all. Sevika wasn’t fond of being used as a babysitter, especially since Jinx had actually been the one to evaporate her arm, but she only attempted to argue it once before reluctantly relenting.
He didn’t have a problem with Jinx’s clinginess; he could usually accommodate that. He didn’t mind her doodling on his ashtray or his mug, or even on some of his papers or his desk. He didn’t even mind her sitting up in the rafters or on the sofa while he held meetings with people. No, the only thing that Silco found hard was how often Jinx seemed to get hurt. She was creative and that extended into a creativity with inventing; making bombs seemed to be her favourite past time, which was a problem when they caused more damage than she had predicted. She wasn’t very good at predicting consequences - that was something that he learnt pretty quickly.
Silco couldn’t stem the worry every time she walked into his office with a new injury. It was like a tidal wave that would crash into him and leave him with cold clammy hands and a sense of deep seated panic.
“You should be more careful,” he said on more than one occasion while cleaning the scratches on her arms and covering them with plasters.
Each time she would look away and mumble out “I know. I’m sorry,” but the lesson never seemed to stick.
He could be harsh with everyone except her, it seemed, because whenever he looked at her guilty, tear stained face he couldn’t bring himself to say or do anything else other than give her a quick kiss on the head and a reply of ”Jinx is perfect,” just to lift her spirits a bit.
However, the more serious injuries required a visit to Singed’s hideout; possible sprains, deep cuts that probably needed stitches, concussions, bruises that could potentially warn for internal bleeding. Singed wasn’t really a doctor, he was an alchemist - he’d said so himself multiple times, but Silco didn’t know where else to take her, so he kept coming back with Jinx in tow every time something worried him.
In fact, in the span of six or seven months, his total visits to Singed’s hideout was about 16 different times and the alchemist was starting to get impatient with him.
“I am not your personal doctor,” he insisted none-too-kindly when Silco entered with Jinx that night.
Silco placed Jinx down on the metal table and looked at Singed over his shoulder. She’d been silent the whole journey, both of her shins haphazardly bandaged and already stained with blood.
“Help her,” was the only thing Silco responded with.
Singed paused in his movements and looked over at Silco. His mouth was covered with some sort of scarf but his eye was enough to show his displeasure at being disturbed tonight.
“I am not the only one in the Undercity with medical knowledge,” he replied, raspy tone only adding to the edge in his voice.
“You are the only one I will allow to help her.”
“Maybe you should consider allowing someone else to help. I am done playing nurse. I have projects to be getting on with.”
Jinx’s grip tightening on his hand was what sparked Silco’s impatience and he glared at Singed. “You would let her injuries get infected just to save five minutes of your time?!”
From his desk, Singed turned around fully to face Silco.
“No. You would let them get infected because you will not let anyone else see to her.” He turned back to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper out from one of the stacks that surrounded him, pen scratching against it for a few moments before he stood and made his way over. He held the paper out to Silco.
“What is this?”
“Take it.”
With a scoff, Silco snatched it out of the alchemist’s hand and looked down at the plain writing on its surface. “Doctor Featherstone?” His voice already held disdain.
“An old acquaintance of mine. He has better medical knowledge than I do and unlike me it is his job to treat people. He will be able to help if you show him that note.”
The writing on the sheet of paper not only had the name written on it, but also directions of where to find him and his “clinic” and a brief note at the bottom about why Silco was attending, signed by Singed.
Silco raised his eyes to glare at Singed’s retreating form as the latter headed back to his desk, the red of his marred one almost glowing in the dim light of the lab.
“And why should I trust him?” He spat, “I know nothing about him.”
“You trust me to help her, don’t you? Well if you trust me, then you will trust him. Good evening, Silco.”
“That’s it? You won’t even see to her now that we’re here?”
“Good evening, Silco.”
Silco ground his teeth in frustration and a part of him considered stalking right up to Singed and slitting his throat for his incompetence. But then there was a light tug on his hand and he turned to look at Jinx, who was looking up at him with a wide, nervous gaze. Her eyes had started watering again and the ache in his chest at the sight was almost unbearable.
“Am I going to die?”
The timid question immediately had him leaning in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face and cupping her cheek.
“Of course not, would I ever let that happen?”
She shook her head.
“Exactly. You’re going to be fine.”
Silco looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand, glaring at the name that almost seemed to look back at him tauntingly.
“You are going to be perfectly fine. I will make sure of it.”