Chapter Text
Someone is screaming. Wei Wuxian's head feels heavy, full of fog, and his eyes don't work.
"—ma, Mama! Mama!!"
Ah. It's A-Yuan who is screaming. Crying.
Someone shakes his shoulder. The motion makes his stomach roll. His guts cramp, heaves, and—Wei Wuxian lurches to the opposite side and hurls. Puke splatters on the rusty metal floor.
"Fuck! Dude, what the fuck, are you ill? Are you contagious?!"
Around these parts, if he was contagious, Wei Wuxian knows it's more likely to earn him a bullet through the skull than quarantine time. So even though his head pounds, and he feels too dizzy to tell up from down, he quickly waves a limp hand in denial and garbles out, "No, no… Motion sickness."
The man, whoever he is, lets out a relieved sigh. Wei Wuxian hears him take a few steps back. "Yeah, it was a rough descent. Cabin pressure crapped out during the last part. Luckily we made it past the troposphere before that."
Lucky indeed. When the red emergency lights had turned on and the alarms had started blaring, Wei Wuxian had only had seconds to react— seconds to find the whispering semi-conscience running through the ship's walls, and convince it that it needed to re-root power to life-support right now or fail its purpose.
Then he blacked out.
Since they are still alive and not meat paste, the pressure drop can't have been too bad. Wei Wuxian only feels like his brain is trying to ooze out through his ears. A-Yuan's relentless crying isn't making it better. He licks his lips and tastes blood; ah, nosebleed. Wei Wuxian spares a moment to hope his implants weren't affected. He has got no money to see a doctor, especially not the kind doing unofficial work. Nor would he dare to let someone he doesn't know knock him out to operate on him—and being awake during major surgeries sucks; he knows this from unfortunate past experience.
"You should get off the ship before the sweepers come." The man says before quickly leaving.
It's very true. Wei Wuxian doesn't want to run into any sweepers. He is regaining feeling in his arms, which he uses to pull closer the beaten knapsack he's got tied to his front. The closure hasn't been touched; good. A familiar cool pressure against his breastbone tells him that his necklace is still there too.
From beside him, A-Yuan's crying is petering off into low whining and hiccups.
The cabin stinks of puke, stale recycled air and fuel exhort. Wei Wuxian can almost taste the chemicals on his tongue, an oily film mixing nauseatingly with stomach acid. Opening his eyes is a struggle, but Wei Wuxian does it, and then quickly sets about getting them both free of their safety belts. He checks A-Yuan over as he does, turning the boy's head side to side, peering at his ears and eyes. No bleeding. And judging from his crying, Wei Wuxian can tell that his lungs definitely work.
"Alright Little Man, let's get off this rust-bucket." Wei Wuxian says as he hauls the kid up on his hip. Something twinges in his lower back; a sharp pain that makes black spots dance across his vision. Fuck. He can't pass out. Not now. It's not safe.
Outside, the port is all shades of grey covered in sheets of rain. The air is damp and muggy. Roaring ship engines and stabbing signal lights attack his senses. Fuck, his head hurts. Wei Wuxian pulls up his hood, holds A-Yuan close, and ducks his head as he scurries away from the dock, past rumbling ground transporters and soaked workers already unloading the ship. There are human shapes lingering in the shadows of supply crates, behind corners and containers. Sweepers; circling like scavengers around a fresh corpse, waiting for their chance.
Wei Wuxian moves as fast as he can without risking drawing their attention. Run too fast in this kind of place, and people will think you're carrying something precious.
He really is carrying something precious, Wei Wuxian thinks as he reaches the warehouses. His nose is pressed against A-Yuan's hair; it's dirty, but still smells like baby. Something soft and clean.
There is a transporter idling at Gate 13, headlights on, casting the hunched figure standing in front of the lights into sharp contrast.
"Mo Xuanyu?" Wei Wuxian asks when he gets close enough.
The man jumps, then whips his head around to give Wei Wuxian a searching look. The white of his eyes are bloodshot. "Ticket?" He croaks, voice low and hoarse.
Wei Wuxian holds out his PAAD; the screen has a spiderweb of cracks running over it, and the ID it's keyed to is fake, but it displays the needed information.
In the flickering blue light from the screen, Mo Xuanyu's face looks like a ghost's. He reads quickly and then nods towards the transporter, rasping, "Get in, stay quiet."
No need to tell him; this isn't Wei Wuxian's first time smuggling himself onto a planet. Still, he shows a quick smile, teeth flashing. "Got it."
The smile doesn't appear to make Mo Xuanyu any more comfortable. His too-wide eyes keep flickering around, and he flinches at every shadow. Maybe this is his first time?
It doesn't matter. Half an hour later Wei Wuxian is crammed into the back of the transporter, together with four other dirty drifters. None of them talk. They only eye each other with suspicion and hold their valuables close.
A-Yuan has fallen asleep on his chest, face hidden against Wei Wuxian's neck. Wei Wuxian turns his head enough to kiss the boy's temple. If only he could sleep too, but hopefully he will be able to soon. They made it through the worst parts and should be safe here for a while. He hopes. He really, really hopes.
xXx
It's been three days since Wei Wuxian last ate. In that time, he has sucked down two expired nutri-packs, but those do nothing to alleviate hunger. So it's concerning that he doesn't feel hungry, just constantly nauseated and exhausted. Thirsty too. It's lucky, but surprising, that the tap water here is drinkable. Too surprising really.
On days like this, the chain around his neck feels especially heavy. The press of the pendant is a cold bruise against his chest. The weight of a promise going unfulfilled.
The overhead neon lights blink and fizzle, the rapid light-dark-light stabbing through Wei Wuxian's eyes and right into his skull. His constant high level headache immediately jumps towards migraine territory.
" Hungry ," A-Yuan whines, pulling at his hand. Wei Wuxian wraps his own cold fingers more firmly around the toddler's, and tries to focus on the vegetable display in front of him. He's got 10 credits left on the last safe account he's got access to. Half a kilo of wilted vegetables, the cheapest thing in the store, costs 15.
The potatoes are sprouted and there is a funky smell coming from the carrots. Half of Wei Wuxian's sluggish mind is wondering if that means he can bargain down the prize, while the other half is furiously screaming that something is very wrong.
It's true. Aside from the obvious Hell that makes up his entire life situation, something is off. They have been planet-side for around 36 hours and so far nothing adds up.
The store has a glitchy screen running the local news. A woman's voice echoes from the staticy speakers. " —says that local tourism has been affected by the rain. Meanwhile, the wine district hopes that the current weather might positively affect the wild yeast used to— "
A wine district doesn't sound like something a garbage dump like Shanxu would have. But then again, criminals and fugitives want to drink too. Wei Wuxian could write off the wine district. However, Shanxu, the planet they are supposed to have landed on, doesn't have any tourism as far as he knows. The planets Wei Wuxian chooses to hide on generally don't inspire much in the way of travel, unless you are a smuggler—or the type of person needing a smuggler to get around.
A-Yuan bumps his forehead against Wei Wuxian's leg and whines, low and sad. A-Yuan is small, but Wei Wuxian is still dizzy, so the extra weight against his leg is enough to force him to take a step back. He slams his palm against a sharp-edged metal shelf to steady himself; it rattles ominously. The floor clings like velcro to the soles of his boots, sticky with who-knows-what. He didn't pick this store for its ambience, or its quality, but because he could tell that most of their security cameras are dead.
Blinking slowly, Wei Wuxian stares at the potatoes. The green sprouts seem to taunt him.
Suddenly he remembers that Shanxu has a current ban on potatoes, due to some aggressive and rapidly mutating form of crop blight…
" Fuck, " Wei Wuxian hisses, forced to crouch down before he hurls. He swallows a mouthful of bile and hides his face in his hands for a moment, just a moment, to starve off the panic. It doesn’t work.
Where the fuck are they? What fucking planet is this!?
It's not like he can just grab someone and ask. People might understand if you're uncertain of the street, or the town, but if you don't even know what planet you're on, that raises alarm bells. He can't risk drawing attention.
If he could just see the sky, Wei Wuxian thinks dizzily, then the stars could tell him something about where they are. But it's been raining ever since they got here, the cloud cover thick and smothering.
Maybe he is wrong? Maybe— No. He can smell the sprouting potatoes. This is definitely the wrong planet.
Wei Wuxian doesn't know how this happened. He realizes that he's been had somehow, but as for who tricked him… He has used the contact that got him here in the past, and the guy has never screwed him over before; so why now? What changed?
"Mama," A-Yuan whines. He's a bright kid. Good at remembering the address he's supposed to use when out with an adult. Mama or Baba. Wei Wuxian is carrying papers identifying A-Yuan as his; though so were all the other Wens—before.
Who knows where everyone is right now. They were forced to scatter in a panic, so Wei Wuxian has no idea. He just hopes that they are alive at least. For six months it's been just him and A-Yuan, always running, from ship to ship and port to port, and now they are here; stranded on some planet that isn't Shanxu, because Wei Wuxian's contact screwed him over.
Fuck.
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It can't have taken him more than a minute to work off the panic— Wei Wuxian doesn't have time to panic these days— but when he looks up again, A-Yuan is gone.
The bottom drops out of Wei Wuxian's stomach. "A-Yuan?!" He calls, voice going shrill. He gets up so fast his vision spots and he almost stumbles. "A-Yuan! Where are you!?"
Wei Wuxian spins around, around, around, breathing fast, desperately searching the aisles. There's a woman looking at the dates on canned food. A shifty-eyed teen by the drinks. Indistinct voices from the front of the store. But no shadow of a little boy.
Oh no, oh no no no no. This is Wei Wuxian's worst nightmare. Did someone take him? Wei Wuxian shouldn't have looked away— Shouldn't have let go of his hand. "A-YUAN!" He screams this time, voice breaking.
"Hey! Is this your kid?"
Wei Wuxian whirls around again, and comes face to face with an overweight man wearing a lurid yellow employee shirt, a manager badge, and two days of stubble. He's got A-Yuan grabbed by the arm, practically dragging the boy. A-Yuan's body is as stiff as a plank. He is crying silently, mute from fear. He stares up at Wei Wuxian with wide eyes and tears running down his pale, chocolate smeared cheeks.
"Oh no," Wei Wuxian breathes and immediately drops down on his knees to grab his boy back. A-Yuan throws his arms around Wei Wuxian's neck and clings.
The Manager lets the child go but sneers at Wei Wuxian. "' Oh no' is right. The kid just grabbed something and ate it." He waves his other hand, which is holding a box of chocolates with the wrapping undone. Expensive chocolates. "Either you pay for it, or I'm calling the cops."
"Please don't—" Wei Wuxian says quickly, heart skipping a beat, but then breaks his plea off. There's a look in the Manager's eyes that he doesn't like. It's not a good idea to show any weakness. "I'll pay," He keeps his voice measured. "How much?"
The Manager smiles slowly, like a shark smelling blood in the water. He definitely caught Wei Wuxian's fear. The grin makes his beady eyes fold into wrinkles of fat, yellow stained teeth looking suddenly sharp. "Eighty credits." He says, voice oily slick.
"I don't—" have that , Wei Wuxian finishes the thought but not the sentence. The Manager clearly knows. It's not hard to guess from the way Wei Wuxian is dressed, nor is his fear of the authorities from the way he consciously turns his face away from any functioning surveillance cameras.
There's a beat of silence. Of waiting. The tense air is filled only by the background noise of the news-speaker, and the electric buzz from the fluorescent lights.
"I know your type," The Manger then says, looking down his nose at Wei Wuxian, who is still sitting frozen on the sticky floor. "Outer Rim Rats who come here scurrying for benefits. I bet you don't have any travel permits." He smirks, leaning down and closer, voice gone soft. His breath stinks of nicotine. "Maybe you don't even have any ID?"
Silent, Wei Wuxian stares stiffly at the Manager's double chin. A-Yuan is shaking in his arms. Tears trickle against his neck, wetting his shirt collar. They do have IDs, but they are fake, and he's not sure how much scrutiny they will stand up to. The man is correct about the travel permits though. Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan are here illegally.
"Of course I can't condone thieves," the Manager says, "but if you can't pay right now, I know some people you can work for."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Wei Wuxian begins moving his hand down towards his boots. He doesn't want to use the weapon hidden there, but if he is forced to…
"Your little boy called you Mama, didn't he?" The greasy Manager says, cupping his chin like he is trying to remember. He looks Wei Wuxian up and down, licking his lips. A hungry grin cracks his pudgy face. "You know, it's rare to see carriers these days. I'm sure you'll earn eighty credits in no time."
Oh, so that's his angle.
Wei Wuxian can't help it, he laughs: A sharp bark, hard and raspy.
The manager frowns.
The stunner's handle feels warm in Wei Wuxian's clammy hand when he finally reaches it. He doesn't pull it out. Not yet. "I wonder how my two-year-old managed to open a fancy box of chocolates all on his own. Do you have any idea, mister?" Wei Wuxian asks politely, eyes cold as he lifts his head and meets the man's gaze.
"Wha—" the Manager pulls back, clearly startled, not expecting his target to put up a fight. "How would I know?!" He blusters, face going red, "I'm telling you— don't try anything! Either pay up or agree to work off your debt, or I'm calling the cops!"
Wei Wuxian tries not to grimace as he shifts A-Yuan's weight to one arm. No luck. Pain stabs through his lower back again— it's been happening ever since they landed. He forces himself to focus; tightens his grip on his stunner. The muscles in his legs tense up, readying to jump and run. He will have to take the Manager down first. The man doesn't look fast enough to catch them himself, but Wei Wuxian can't afford him calling for backup.
Adrenaline pumps through his veins, dulling the pain. Wei Wuxian isn't sure how he will get off the planet, doesn't even know what planet this is, doesn't know if he's got any safe contacts left. He needs time to figure it out— needs to get somewhere safe. But where?
He exhales. Questions later, running now.
The Manager is yelling, aggressively jabbing a pointed finger at him. "You rats are all thieves! Criminals! Scum!"
Wei Wuxian gets ready to jump—
"Hey! There's a thief over here! He's trying to run!" Someone else yells. It's the shifty teenager who was loitering by the drinks. He's been joined by two other guys, both larger than him but also young looking. Strong and fit. They look like they would be fast runners and annoying to fight.
Wei Wuxian freezes mid-lunge and curses under his breath. It's a setup—has been right from the start. The Manager he could deal with, but the three other guys… Wei Wuxian could do it if he wasn't carrying A-Yuan, but he is. If he was alone, his training would let him take down three guys in a hand-to-hand fight, but if any of them are carrying weapons then he can't risk it. If a stray attack hit A-Yuan…
The Manager is sweating, but with his backup arriving he regains some of his swagger. "What? Still not paying?" He asks, turning his smarmy grin back on Wei Wuxian.
The younger men have encircled Wei Wuxian like a pack of dogs, one blocking each aisle towards the exit. He is trapped.
Wei Wuxian's shoulders slump and he lowers his eyes, no longer trying to hide his fear or panic. "I'm… I can pay half," he stutters. He can't, but it doesn't matter, he's just trying to buy time. Trying to get them to underestimate him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian sees one of the young men touch his side, hand going under his jacket. Wei Wuxian's heart skips a beat, and then sinks. The man is carrying a concealed weapon; probably a long ranged one. Worse, his eyes are fixed unnervingly on A-Yuan.
Slowly, Wei Wuxian begins to realize that this is a fight he won't win; that he will be forced to come with these kidnappers. He might be fast, he might be a trained soldier and one hell of a fighter, but he's in bad shape and they have locked onto his weak spot.
"Either you pay in full right now or we make you pay!" The Manager insists.
"I will pay for him." A new voice, deep and baritone, suddenly says.
The men all whip around to face the newcomer. Wei Wuxian is slower to react. It feels like he knows that voice, but it can't be— he can't be here. There is no way…
Gradually, he raises his eyes. Wei Wuxian first sees white boots, followed by white calves, then white thighs… It's the Gusu-Lan uniform. All white with blue and silver detailing. When Wei Wuxian's eyes finally finish their slow journey up to the man's face, he is met with Lan Wangji's golden eyed glare. It sends a shock wave through his system. Shivering, he clutches A-Yuan tighter.
Lan Wangji looks back at him for an endless moment, face unreadable, before he turns his attention away again.
Fuck. Wei Wuxian swallows and exhales shakily. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Lan Wangji is acting very collected for someone who just spotted a ghost. If Wei Wuxian survives this, he is going to have to fake his own death again.
The gangsters eye Lan Wangji, then each other, and then Wei Wuxian. Assessing. Is he worth the hassle? Wei Wuxian glares back at them and gives them a snarling grin that is all teeth.
Meanwhile Lan Wangji stands calmly in the middle of the dingy grocery aisle, his white uniform a glaring contrast to the lurid canned food display and the shelves full of neon colored cleaning solutions. Expression placid, he looks at the men, letting his gaze slide over one after the other. His eyes are cold, like he is looking at ants—or the corpses of his enemies. "I will pay for him. How much?"
"That's, um, but you're not—" The Manager splutters, twisting his pudgy hands and exchanging wide-eyed looks with his accomplices.
The thing is, Wei Wuxian might be a rare catch, but no one is really stupid enough to start a fight with a Lan. Especially not one who is wearing the crest of the main family on his chest.
The younger men all duck their necks and start shuffling towards the exit. The Manger watches them go, looking like he is swallowing down curses. Then he smiles bitterly and turns back to face Lan Wangji. "That'll be eighty credits, sir."
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It's twilight outside, and still pouring. The rain feels nice against his flushed face. Cooling—liberating. Wei Wuxian stands with his face turned towards the sky and tries to catch his breath. Raindrops splatter against his parted lips and drips into his open mouth. A-Yuan is a heavy weight in his arms; warm and alive. Uninjured. Wei Wuxian's heart is still jack-hammering, futile adrenaline rushing through his system with no outlet. His hands are shaking. He is already starting to crash. "Lan Zhan…" he says, tongue thick around the syllables, "Lan Zhan, ah, how are you here?"
"Wei Ying."
Above them, thunder cracks the sky. It feels suitably dramatic.
"How long has it been?" Wei Wuxian asks, as though he doesn't know the answer almost exactly, down to the number of days. It's easy enough to remember. It was the same day their side won the war. The same day Wei Wuxian faked his own death.
"Almost three years." Lan Wangji says, voice soft and nearly lost to the downpour.
Wei Wuxian releases a gust of air and lets his head fall forwards, wet bangs covering his eyes. He senses more than hears Lan Wangji step closer, surprised when the man places a warm palm against his back. Since when did Lan Wangji casually touch people? Who knows. It's weird, but nice. He sways into the touch.
Perhaps it's due to the stranger drawing close, or perhaps it's because he is confused as to why they are once again outside and getting soaked by the rain, but A-Yuan chooses this moment to pipe up. "Mama? Who?"
Through the palm on his back, Wei Wuxian feels Lan Wangji startle and tense up.
"Ah, this is…" Wei Wuxian isn't sure what to call Lan Wangji. His one time friend? Frenemy? Rival?
...Lover?
But, no. It was just one time—just an impulse by two desperate virgins about to fight an intergalactic war. Nothing between him and Lan Wangji was ever close enough, or kind enough, for them to even count as friends. Not to mention whatever they are to each other now, which Wei Wuxian has no idea about. Their relationship is too complicated for himself, much less a two-year-old, to understand. In the end, what he settles on saying is, "He's safe."
That's what matters right now anyway, and Wei Wuxian thinks it's true; at least he's willing to bet on it. Not that he has much choice in what will happen now regardless. If Lan Wangji insists on arresting him, holding him on some charge, then Wei Wuxian doesn't have much hope of getting away. They are equally well trained, but unlike Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji isn't running on fumes.
"H-how old is your son?" Lan Wangji asks, his voice cracking strangely on the question.
"He's two." Wei Wuxian replies absently, blinking his eyes to try and clear the encroaching fog. It's getting difficult to concentrate— or, no. The truth is that it's been difficult for days, but it's rapidly getting worse. Wei Wuxian is shivering like he's freezing, but he feels hot enough to fry an egg on. He half expects the raindrops to sizzle where they hit his skin. There is pain too but it's… it's in so many places now, all encompassing, that it feels less like individual pains and more like a single foreign entity trying to take over his body.
That's why it takes a moment for Wei Wuxian to catch the rare expression on Lan Wangji's face— the wide-eyed way he's looking at A-Yuan— and another moment to recognize it as the man mentally doing the math and coming up with the most likely answer.
'Well fuck,' Wei Wuxian has a single moment to think. Then his knees buckle, his vision goes black, and he is falling.
He doesn't remember hitting the ground.
Minutes must pass between then and when Wei Wuxian blinks awake again. They are still in the rain, but sitting down— half lying in Wei Wuxian's case. He is cradled in Lan Wangji's arms. A-Yuan is clinging to Wei Wuxian's chest and screaming.
"—street, Westside of the Dye District." Lan Wangji is talking fast into a head-com, one of those fancy near invisible ones.
"L'n Zh'n," Wei Wuxian tries to say, but his speech slurs. "No amb'lnce." He tries to pull down Lan Wangji's hand from the com, but his own arms won't cooperate, flopping like limp, overcooked noodles.
"It's going to be alright, Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says and grabs Wei Wuxian's uncooperative floppy hand to hold it. His downturned face is cast in shadows, his silhouette haloed by street-lights. Only his golden eyes look unnaturally luminous, hanging above Wei Wuxian like the twin moons of Yunmeng.
Wei Wuxian's brain fizzles for a moment, synapses firing but no connections getting made. His mind is filled with nothing but static and Lan Wangji's eyes. "N'nn..." No. He tries to shake his head but can't quite manage it—tries again. And again. He has to get his message across before he blacks out, which he can tell is coming. "...'m hidin."
Lan Wangji squeezes his hand, "You're hiding?"
That's good, he's listening. Lan Wangji was always clever. He'll figure it out. Wei Wuxian just needs to give him the basics.
Wei Wuxian blinks hard against the encroaching darkness. "Don't… let 'e dins…"
"The Jins?" Lan Wangji guesses.
Good. So clever. Wei Wuxian slurs something in affirmation and feels his body go limp. Then, suddenly, all his muscles tense up without his consent. His neck snaps back, his spine arches, his eyes roll, and he has one brief second for the panicked thought of 'Seizure!?'
—Then he blacks out.