Chapter Text
The boy was crouched down low in the alley, the knees of his shorts caked with mud. Jay didn’t bother frisking him; the kid clearly had nothing on him but the dirty shirt clinging to his rib-racked frame.
For a moment, Jay paused, hand on a pipe - ready to scale the thing, to launch up and out of sight. He didn’t have time to worry about the kids hungrier than he was; everyone here was all faring pretty poorly and if he stopped now, he might not get dinner. And on this island, the game wasn’t altruism; the game had every man fighting for himself.
But in the split second he took his eyes off the kid and onto the pipe, he caught a flash of movement in the periphery of his vision. Small, nimble hands suddenly shoved himself into Jay’s pockets and then out again, footsteps pounding on the uneven ground as the boy sprinted off, clutching a can of fruit Jay had just stolen from a vendor.
“You've got to be shitting me!” Jay let go of the pipe and started off after him, kicking himself for letting his guard down so quickly.
The boy didn’t turn around, but he must’ve heard Jay’s pursuit because he picked up his pace, dodging around metal barrels and heaps of trash beside them. Jay was familiar with this part of town - he was familiar with most parts of this island - but he knew this alley didn’t dead end. In fact, it was about to dump them both out into the busier bazaar.
“Fuck,” Jay cursed again, jumping over a trash pile just as the boy’s head of white curls turned the corner. This kid was fucking fast. If he reached the bazaar, Jay might lose him for good - along with the can that held his dinner. He grunted, forcing himself to move faster, barreling forward.
It was ironic, really, and maybe it stung a little, too - to be stolen from by someone he’d written off as half-dead. Jay spent his life stealing things, finding the weak mark, acting on the one moment of someone’s weakness; he definitely didn’t enjoy having the tables turned on him.
The kid was in sight again, weaving around people and stalls and carts, almost a blur of white among the shadowy, dirty landscape. For a moment, Jay thought he might’ve actually been bested by him, but then the boy ducked down the second alley on their left - one that ended in a dead, brick wall.
Bingo, you little shit.
Jay followed, nearly knocking over a rickety stall of half-cracked jars. Any other day, he would’ve slipped at least one into his pocket, but at the moment, all his focus was spent on the volant thief who’d had the audacity to try and steal from him.
The end of the alley was straight ahead, and Jay watched as the kid seemed to realize his fatal mistake. His feet stuttered, shifting as if trying to reroute and find an escape. But Jay blocked the path now, and by the time the boy turned to face him, they both knew he was done for.
Jay studied the kid’s face for a moment, picking over freckles and smears of dirt and mud. His arms were skinny, almost skeletal, but they’d managed to slip into his pockets without much trouble. He looked young, but older than Jay had initially thought. In fact, up close, he looked to be around Jay’s own age. Whoever this dirty boy was, he certainly had balls to steal something from one of the island’s most notorious thieves.
“Hand it over,” Jay demanded in his most authoritative voice. Canned fruit was a pretty rare commodity on the island. Even if the date had long passed the one stamped on the lid, it usually tasted decent, and if they were lucky, the fruit inside hadn’t totally expired at all. Jay was not about to let some freckled skeleton take away his shot at a sweet, filling meal.
Judging from the way the boy’s hands shook, Jay guessed he’d surrender the goods pretty quickly. But the boy just kept surprising him, apparently, because after a few beats, he took a stumbling step backwards and shook his head. His eyes were wide, but that damn can of peaches stayed tightly locked in his grip.
“I said,” Jay repeated, following him. His voice got dangerously low. “Hand… it… the fuck… over.” He wondered if he was really going to have to waste time beating this guy up. The boy had nowhere to go, no place to hide; he couldn’t really be stupid enough to keep being stubborn, could he?
But the kid just kept backing up until his back hit the brick and shook his head over and over again. With a frustrated growl, Jay lunged forward to either wring his neck or take the peaches back, but a flash of silver stopped him seconds before. A knife. The boy had a knife.
Jay had one, too, of course, but by the time he produced it, the freckled thief’s blade hovered dangerously close to Jay’s neck. His outstretched hand was still shaking, but whether from fear or exhaustion, Jay couldn’t quite be sure.
Sighing heavily, Jay shook his head. “You know I’ve got to beat the shit out of you now, right?” This boy - however frail and fragile looking - had taken his spoils, tried to escape him, and was now holding him at knifepoint; if Jay walked away now, he’d lose all credibility. “I’ve got a rep, dude. I literally can’t let you go now.”
It would be a shame to waste his energy on someone who already looked about ready to fall over. Staring at his wide-eyes and emaciated figure, Jay forced himself to cling to the fact that this kid had stolen from him. The boy was either very brave, very stupid, or very hungry - not that it mattered. An idea nudged at the back of Jay’s mind, wriggling in among the thoughts about the best way to knock the knife out of his hand.
Mal might even agree, his mind pressed. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing she’s heard today, probably.
Making up his mind, Jay reached into his pocket. At the sudden movement, the boy took another step forward, pressing the knife right up against Jay’s throat.
“Shit, wait, I’m not -” Jay held up his hands. “Not reaching for a weapon, I swear. I’m getting a marker.”
The boy squinted at him, as if trying to detect a lie - which would be an impossible feat. If Jay had been lying, this boy - however ballsy - definitely wouldn’t be able to tell; lying was something Jay did very well.
The kid must’ve decided he’d been telling the truth because he moved the blade off his skin just a tiny bit, still poised to strike in case Jay turned out to be crossing him; and Jay didn’t blame him - he had been known to do that quite often. But this time, he really did find the marker in his pocket and pull it out.
“Look,” Jay showed him the pen. It was mostly out of ink, and he’d only picked it up that morning, but it would do the trick. “Just… hand me the can, okay?”
If the boy had been reluctant to believe him about the marker, he definitely didn’t trust this new request for the can. He gripped it tighter, as if Jay would make another move to steal it.
“Okay, if you won’t give it to me, just… hold it out,” Jay instructed, uncapping the pen. “I want to write something on the lid. Then, you can take it back and open it and eat it, I guess.”
Slowly, almost painstakingly so, the kid held out the can - keeping his knife raised and ready. Jay shrugged and scrawled a quick, rough cobra crest on the top. He stepped back and slid the cap back on the marker, admiring his handiwork. It didn’t look too bad.
“Try not to smudge it too much while getting that open, okay?” Jay watched as the boy turned the can in his hands to make out the crest on top. When he finally processed what he was seeing, his eyes opened even wider.
So far, the kid hadn’t said a single word, and it seemed the pattern would continue. Though his lips twitched ever so slightly, not one sound escaped. Jay watch him study the cobra sign for a few more seconds before deciding to press on.
“Look, you can eat the peaches, alright?” Jay said, his stomach grumbling in protest. “But keep the lid. Bring it to me tonight at midnight right here. Got it? Those can lids are sharp, so… use it as a weapon if anyone tries to mess with you. It’s got my mark. You should be pretty much left alone, but just in case. If you make it back here in time, I might have a proposition for you.”
The boy lifted his gaze from the can, fixing it on Jay carefully. He seemed to be weighing the options. Jay wondered what the chances of this kid actually returning were. He’d essentially been let off the hook with the peaches, so theoretically, he could take off and leave Jay waiting for nothing - especially if he didn’t know what kind of a proposition Jay might make.
But Jay couldn’t offer what he had in mind just yet. It wasn’t only his decision, of course. First, he had to talk it over with Mal. This boy would just have to have a little trust in him - a virtue in very short supply on the island.
“You gonna make it back here or should I expect to never see you again?” Jay held out for an answer, but all he got was a noncommittal shrug. Oh, well. He’d just have to wait and see at midnight.
The boy scampered past him, blending in with the growing shadows. Jay gave himself a few seconds to dwell on the decision he’d just before shoving it out of his mind. At this rate, he’d be showing up late for his evening meet-up with Mal and empty handed to boot.
That was the thing about the island: in all the lawless, violent chaos, there was still some semblance of order - certain meeting places and times, certain places to avoid, certain hierarchies to understand and abide by.
And Mal?
She was at the very top of the second-generation totem pole. Jay knew he stacked up pretty close, especially in thieving (which he privately thought he bested her at), but her wicked lineage somehow carried more weight in terms of fear, so she took the crown. Well, her mother took the crown; Mal took advantage of it. She struck fear into most of the kids running around the streets, and Jay supposed he would consider himself rather lucky to be her ally if luck existed on the Isle (which it definitely didn’t).
Their hideout was located relatively close to the bazaar, which served them well both in proximity and subtly - hiding in plain and all that shit. When he reached the rusting iron stairs - gated off, of course - Jay checked over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed him. So far, he and Mal were the only two people who knew where the secret entrance was, and they liked it that way.
As he threw a rock at a dented road sign a few yards away, the grate blocking the stairs clattered to life and raised just long enough for him to duck under. He scaled the spiraling flight with ease and moments later, stepped into the abandoned warehouse that had become his and Mal’s home base.
“Mal!” Jay called as he stepped into the main room. “It’s eight o’clock. Your ass better be here.”
“Relax, shithead.” Mal emerged from one of the adjacent rooms, holding (thankfully) a few apples and some bread. “I’m here. And I brought dinner, so, you owe me because you look empty handed as hell.”
“This just makes up for last week when I split that bottle of cider with you.” Jay took his share of the food without hesitation, collapsing onto the threadbare corduroy couch in the center of the room with a wince - the springs digging into his ass, as usual.
“That was alcohol,” Mal protested. “It’s not the same thing.”
They ate side by side for a few minutes in silence. Jay made sure to chew each bite carefully instead of inhaling it like he usually did; it wasn’t like he was avoiding talking to Mal about the boy, but he wasn’t exactly tripping over his feet to tell her about him, either.
Eventually, though, the bread and apples were gone, and Jay finally conceded to cleared his throat. “So, uh, remember how you were talking about needing someone useful the other day? Someone… who can go into the bazaar undetected? Someone who everyone underestimates?”
She regarded him carefully, raising an eyebrow. “Yes…”
“I think I found him.” Jay waited for her reaction, trying to judge the subtle movements of her eyebrows and the small twitching in her lips. “The someone, I mean. He stole - tried to steal - from me today.”
“He stole something?” Mal looked almost amused. “From you? Prince of Thieves? Son of Jafar? Master -”
“Shut up.” Jay shoved her arm. “He caught me off guard, and you know how rare that is.”
“You sure that’s something you wanna be bragging about?”
A note of annoyance drifted into his tone. “I’m telling you this in confidence. And I’m serious. He’s the one. He grabbed something from me and just… took off.”
“What was the something?” Mal still seemed too fixed on the fact that the boy had managed to take something from him; Jay gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Not important! I think he could be useful!”
“Was it food?”
“Fine!” Jay snapped, standing up. “Don’t listen. See if I fucking care.”
Mal just rolled her eyes. “Stop being dramatic. I’m listening. Sit your ass down and stop beating around the bush. Did you or did you not ally with him?”
“Not yet.” He remembered the can lid and shrugged. “I gave him a sign. My sign. For… temporary protection purposes. Until we decide whether he’s useful for us.”
“Did he say anything about it?”
Jay snorted. “About the sign? He didn’t say anything period. Not one word.”
“Interesting,” was all Mal mused. “That’s interesting.” She paused and then - “Take me with you tonight. I wanna meet him.”
Midnight rolled around fast, but then again, it always did. The list of things to do between the sunset and blackest hour was aided by nightfall, and Jay and Mal definitely knew how to take full advantage of the natural cover. They patrolled the edge of their territory, made a couple of late-night swipes from the pirate’s stash of fish and booze, and even managed to find some time to tag a few walls while they were at it (what was night work without a little fun, right?). By the time they’d looped back around to Dead-End Alley, Jay realized he’d been so caught up in the stealing and graffitiing that he’d forgotten to wonder whether the boy would actually show up.
“For all we know,” Mal whispered unhelpfully, “he grabbed those peaches and dipped.”
She had a point, but Jay felt obligated to argue anyway. “He kept my sign, though.”
“Yeah, what kid doesn’t want free protection for a day?” Mal shot back under her breath, leaning against the wall - one foot casually resting back against the brick. Among the shadows, she looked a lot older than she was; the roundness of her face was lessened at night, cut sharp by her lopsided purple locks. Jay thought it made her look more like her mother.
“It won’t do him any good for very long if he doesn’t take us up on our offer,” Jay said. “I mean, temp signs are only good for a few hours; if it’s not backed up with something substantial, he’ll be in the same rut as before.”
Mal didn’t answer, but Jay got that it was less a surrender and more of a bored dismissal. They listened to the island shudder and groan in silence. Somewhere in the distance, a cat yowled.
“Jay, it’s way past midnight,” Mal spoke up finally. “Your guy isn’t coming.”
Jay didn’t want to agree with her, but the facts were against him. The small, scrawny kid hadn’t shown so much as a curl. Trying not to feel let down, Jay shrugged. “Whatever. His loss, I guess.” Suddenly, he paused, picking his head up to listen. “Did you hear that?”
Mal raised an eyebrow. “The cat? Yeah, I heard it. Doesn’t it have anything better to do than scream at us?”
“No,” Jay put a finger to his lips, his fingers inching down to his knife. “Around the corner. Someone’s there.”
“Think it’s him?”
Shrugging, Jay held onto his blade all the same. He’d given the boy a lid for protection; it would make no sense to hover at the edge of the alley unless the guy planned on double crossing him, which Jay supposed he couldn’t rule out.
Whatever the case, the hairs on the back of his neck were raised, which meant they definitely weren’t alone. Mal had apparently seen his instincts pay off enough times not to question him because she drew her knife, too, waiting.
Creeping along the wall, Jay carefully slid towards the corner and prepared to peek out. As soon as his boot hit the cement on the other side, he came face to face with a small, white-haired kid brandishing a knife in one hand and a can lid in the other.
“Christ.” Jay put his own weapon down a little, glancing the small boy over a few times. He looked pretty much the same, save one gash on his forehead that hadn’t been there the last time they’d met. The blood had crusted over some, but the thing still looked fresh. Jay waited for him to lower the can lid, the sharp edge glinting in the flickering glow of a streetlamp nearby, but the kid kept it poised to strike. “I gave you that to hurt other people, not us.”
The boy didn’t answer, the lid staying stubbornly in the air. And - if Jay wasn’t mistaken - a low rumbling noise was also coming from the boy’s throat. Was the kid growling? It was the first time Jay had heard him make any sort of noise at all, even a primal one. His whole body seemed to be on edge, too, directed back the way Jay had come, as if fixed on a particular mark.
“What?” Jay shook his head. “There’s no danger back there. I already scoped the place out.”
Nothing.
“Look, I don’t have time for this! I told you to meet me here - not fuck around and almost stab me with that lid. It’s just us back there. No one else.”
At the word “us”, the rumbling got louder. Definitely a growl. Oh. So maybe the kid didn’t like Mal.
“You got a problem with Mal?” Jay shook his head, irritation sliding into his voice. “She’s on my side. She’s my ally. If you want to team up with me, she comes, too. Package deal. And she doesn’t stand for shit like this, let me tell you, so you can either take it or leave it.”
When the kid didn’t move or even so much as bat an eyelash, Jay turned on his heel. If the boy wanted to be a stubborn ass, Jay certainly had better things to do with his night. He walked back down the alley, his footsteps echoing softly on the stones. And then Jay realized that his steps weren’t echoing at all - they were being shadowed; the boy was following him. One quick steal over his shoulder told him that the kid was placing his feet down exactly when Jay did, stepping on the same stones as if it were some sort of weird puzzle.
“Wh -” Mal started to say as he came closer, but quickly stopped when she saw the boy following him.
“Found him,” Jay told her wrly, gesturing over his shoulder. The boy definitely didn’t look like much, standing tense and still mid-movement, still clutching his blade and his lid. “Don’t think he expected you to be here. Seemed a little put off.” It was a gross understatement.
Mal narrowed her eyes, combing his body with her gaze. She seemed to take in his small stature, his freckled face, his skinny frame. Everything about him looked fragile, and if Jay hadn’t been there to see the boy take his shit and run, he wouldn’t have believed the story at all.
“You wanna make a pact?” Mal asked finally, still staring right at him. The boy stayed rooted to the spot, as if her stare held him down right there. “You willing to swear allegiance to me?”
The kid didn’t answer, and Jay was starting to think that was his default. “I did, Jay spoke up, hoping to break the weird lapse. “It’s a binding sort of thing. So we know you’re not gonna hightail it to some other gang and leak our secrets. You gotta swear.”
The boy stayed stayed silent, fixing them both with dark, unblinking eyes.
“We’ll write out the oath.” Jay asked, still holding out for some sort of reply or reaction. “And you’ll sign it. Does that sound good?” He mimed writing in the air, hoping for some sort of reaction - even a silent one.
And finally, the boy nodded.
From his pocket, Jay pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper he’d swiped from a trash heap that morning and the pen from earlier. He handed them to Mal, who pressed the paper against the bricks and did her best to smooth out the creases. As she began scrawling words onto the surface, Jay turned his attention back to the boy.
He stood in a small patch of silver light, just bright enough to make visible his sharp cheekbones and soiled clothes. Old blood and dirt stained the collar of his shirt, and one sleeve had been ripped to shreds; Jay wondered whether he even had a shirt to change into.
“Okay,” Mal announced at last, flourishing the paper a bit. “Sign at the bottom. In blood.”
“Mal...” Jay knew it was the rule. He’d done it; other gangs did it. When everyone on the island was a liar, cheater, and a thief, they weren’t left with many other options. The invisible dome around them kept out any sorts of spells, and blood oaths were the closest they could get to dark magic. There was a certain binding quality to them; a certain ancient magic that not even the barrier could keep out. Still, this boy looked about ready to topple over at any second. Jay wasn’t sure what would happen if they willingly let him lose more blood.
“You know the rules,” Mal said firmly, still holding out the paper. “So is he going to use his knife or just hold it there like that?”
The boy had yet to put away his blade and now, he raised it up slowly. Flicking his eyes over to Jay for half a second, he slowly uncurled his left palm and pressed the knife into the middle without flinching. Cupping his cut hand, he used his other pointer finger to dip in and drag along the cut. Every movement of his was careful and deliberate, right up to the way his finger met the paper. He wrote one letter, then returned to the cut for more blood before starting the next. When the boy finally stepped back, still cradling his left hand, Jay peered at the paper to examine his work.
The name was blocky, shakily formed, and written in childlike, uppercase letters. “Carlos,” Jay read out slowly.
“So that’s your name, huh, Spots?” Mal asked, glancing up from the oath. “Carlos?”
He gave another tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
“Carlos.” Jay let it sit in his mouth for a moment, testing it out. It was a pretty good name, and it suited the small, silent boy. “Well, Carlos, you’re under Mal’s protection now - and by extension, mine. Follow us. We’ll take you back to our place.”
They turned to go, walking back along the dark alley and uneven stones. The night air was cool, almost cold - a bitter reminder that winter was on its way. Just before they turned back onto the main road, Mal grabbed Jay’s arm and came up close.
“One slip up and he’s dead,” she hissed. “Can’t have him putting us in danger. He’s not much, Jay. He’s not much at all.”
“He’s enough.”
The island was never quiet, not really. Even now, at this early morning hour, Jay could hear the whistles and shouts and clanging of the Isle inhabitants going about their nightly activities. As they got closer to the bazaar, lit bars and taverns spilled light and noise out into the streets. Drunken teenagers and adults stumbled out, yelling or arguing loudly.
“Hey missy,” one of the men slurred, shouting Mal’s direction. “Why don’ you bring that body over here and hav’ some fun.”
Mal’s body tensed and suddenly, she was right in front of him - her fist coming up to meet his nose with a crack that rang up and down the street. Her lip curled in an evil snarl as he crumpled to the ground, his two equally inebriated friends finally recognizing her.
“Shi’,” another one cried. “S’ that brat of -” He brought his hands up sloppily, trying to form horns on either side of his head.
“Careful who you tangle with around these parts,” she growled, her eyes glowing green in the darkness. “Get out of here before I kill you all.”
Jay watched as the men scrambled away, practically dragging Mal’s first victim away with them. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence; in fact, Jay would argue that it happened almost nightly. Her body had started to fill out, edging into the transition stage between child and woman. Jay had never thought of her in a particularly sexual way - she was just Mal . But it seemed the others on the island didn’t seem to agree.
“It’s always me,” Mal huffed as they started on their way again, wiping her bloodied fist on her shirt. “They always call out me. But I can take them. They don’t know I can take them. I could’ve killed each one of them, Jay.”
“I know.” He knew why they went after Mal - a slightly smaller form beside his larger muscles. In the darkness, they didn’t know what she was capable of until she’d practically slit their throats. “And you know I’d help you out if something went down, right?”
“I don’t need help.”
“I know, but if you ever did.”
They kept walking, almost to their hideout now. Jay caught sight of Carlos walking just a few feet away, well hidden by the shadows and caught his breath. He’d almost forgotten that the boy had been following them. Carlos glanced back over his shoulder to where the men had been standing, and Jay studied him carefully.
“It’s alright,” he told Carlos at last. “Mal knows how to deal with brutes like them. They tend to go after kids a lot, especially at night. Makes them bolder for some reason. Look, see, we’re almost there now. Just a little more.”
“Why bother saying anything to him?” Mal picked up a rock and threw it at their sign, listing to the hidden gate rattle to life. “It’s not like he’s gonna answer.”
Jay pointed Carlos towards the newly revealed staircase, letting him go up first before ducking in after him. “He’s not deaf,” he told Mal as they climbed. “At least I don’t think so. You can hear us, right, Carlos?”
Ahead of him, Carlos nodded.
“See?”
Mal just rolled her eyes.
“Okay, just up there,” Jay told Carlos, urging him forward gently. They entered into the warehouse, Mal striding across the room to light a couple of old oil lamps and flick on a few flickering lightbulbs Jay had swiped from his dad’s shop.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jay said, sweeping his arms around the place. “It’s not much, but it’s here if you need it. I wish I could spend all my nights here, but Dad gets on me if I don’t make it home at least a few nights a week to give him my spoils. Gotta stock the shop shelves, you know? Mal’s mom doesn’t really care what she does, though, so she’ll usually be here. Do you need to make it back home tonight?”
Carlos didn’t answer, and Jay thought he heard Mal mutter something that sounded like “waste of time”.
“You gotta go, Jay,” she said finally, pointing to the cracked clock on the wall. “You know how pissed he gets when you don’t show up. I’ll keep an eye on Spots.”
Jay really didn’t want to leave; for one thing, he wasn’t exactly jonesing to see the disappointed look on his father’s face when he brought home a less-than-ideal haul, and for another, he didn’t feel right about leaving Carlos.
Carlos still stood in the center of the room, his eyes moving slowly from wall to wall. His feet shifted nervously, like he wasn’t quite sure where to go. He still held his injured hand curled towards his chest, the blood smeared across his palm.
“I’m guessing those peaches disappeared long ago, huh?” Jay spoke up at last, eyeing the boy’s ribs poking through his shirt. “You still hungry? Mal and I got a stash of cans stocked up. We’re saving most of them for an emergency - you know, in case the barges ever… stop coming…” he paused, shivering internally at the thought. “But we could probably spare one if you needed more food.”
And although Carlos didn’t nod or make any noises, the glimmer of hope ignited in his eye for half a second told Jay everything he needed to know. He glanced at Mal, who grudgingly pulled out their bin of emergency food and passed one can over.
“We’re sharing this, alright, Spots?” She prepared to open it with her knife. “Meals have been a little on the light side this week for us, too.”
Jay sat down on the couch, followed by Mal, but Carlos didn’t make any move to join them. He stood a few feet away, watching them warily.
“Hey,” Mal shook the can a little, like she was calling a dog. “Food’s over here.”
“Mal.” Jay swatted her arm, shaking his head. “He can stand there if he likes. Carlos, do you want some of this?”
Without warning, Carlos darted forward and grabbed the can, hugging it to himself and stepping back - stumbling over his own boots. Mal’s eyes flashed a warning green as she lunged after him - and probably would’ve caught him by the wrist if Jay hadn’t pulled her back.
“Hey! Hey!” Jay kept a firm hold on her, getting to his feet and putting himself between Carlos and a very angry Mal. “Carlos, that’s not how this shit works. If you’re gonna join our pack -”
“If?” Mal snarled. “He already did! He can’t steal from his own damn -”
“I’m explaining it to him!” Jay wondered how Carlos had been able to survive the island so far without understanding how the whole “pack-mentality” worked. Most people didn’t make it very far on their own; food supply was scarce and protection even more so if they didn’t have at least one ally to watch their back. “Look, Carlos, this isn’t like the rest of the island. It’s still every man for himself, but… with a little support. You can’t take all that food.”
Carlos stared at him, his eyes wide and wild. At first, Jay only saw blankness and felt his heart drop - he needed to get through to this boy if he was ever going to be useful to them - but then, slowly, he took a step closer.
“Give it back,” Mal ordered, holding out her hand.
In response, Carlos bared his teeth - retreating again. He pressed his can to his chest again, curling his arms around it protectively.
“Mal, Mal!” Jay felt himself getting dangerously frustrated, standing between the enraged dark fairy and the growling boy. “Stop. He was handing it over! Don’t rush him.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!”
Mal’s anger was doing nothing to ease Carlos back over to them. In fact, the brighter her eyes glowed, the louder the rattle in his throat grew until the two of them were practically vibrating.
“Both of you!” Jay fought to keep his voice steady. “Both of you, stand down! Fucking hell, stand down!” Turning to completely face Carlos, Jay held up both hands. “Neither of us are going to hurt you, okay? And I’m not saying you have to rely us or even trust us - not yet, anyway. But you gotta at least… take a chance. We gave you our word. You signed that oath. You’re ours now.”
With every second Jay spoke, Carlos’ grip on the can lessened a fraction. Finally, almost by accident, it slipped from his grasp and crashed onto the floor. With his foot, Carlos kicked it towards Jay, watching it roll across the ground before coming to a stop at the edge of his boot.
“Okay.” Jay leaned down to pick it up. “That’s a start. I’m gonna open this. And we’re gonna eat it as a team.”
His skin prickled even as he said the word. Jafar never missed an opportunity to make it clear just how deeply he despised Jay’s alliance with Mal.
You’ll regret it, boy, his father’s voice purred in his mind. That was my downfall. I waited too long playing nice with the sultan and his lust-worthy blood lily. You may think you’re doing yourself a service, but in the end, it will be your greatest weakness.
Jay shivered, rubbing at his arms. He barely registered that Mal was speaking to him until she tapped him on the arm.
“Jay!” she huffed. “Did you hear me? I said open the thing already.” Snatching the can away, she shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”
They sat on the floor again, with Carlos still putting a good few feet of distance between him and the others. Jay watched him eat his share of the canned fruit, studying the way he licked every drop of juice from his fingers. No one wasted precious resources like sweet fruit on the island, but Carlos ate with the intensity of a boy who’d experienced something a lot more dangerous than hunger.
“People take your food a lot?”
Carlos paused before giving him a noncommittal shrug.
Jay wasn’t surprised. That sort of thing was about as common as head lice on the island, but (until that morning) Jay had never been too worried about it on his end. With the way his biceps rippled and the expansive amount of golden skin he showed, Jay knew he wielded his power skillfully. Carlos, though, couldn’t boast the same size or muscular build. Not that he wasn’t pretty - his full lips and wide eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed by any means - but the island valued wicked brawn over fairytale features.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mal rolled her eyes, sucking a drip before it rolled down her wrist. “You’re drooling.”
“Just hungry.” Jay had already polished off his cut of the fruit.
She grunted in disbelief, but apparently didn’t have the patience to play games with him because a moment later, she cleared her throat. “Hey Spots?” Mal’s voice was sharp, but not angry. “You can’t pull that shit, okay? You’re one of us. I’m gonna protect you. But if you so much as think about defecting, I will hunt you down and fuck you up. Got it?”
This time, there was no mistaking Carlos’ curt little nod. He was still staring at Mal warily, as if she might strike again, but he looked attentive; perhaps they still stood a chance tomorrow in the marketplace.
“Jay?” Mal turned her piercing gaze on him. He thought she might tell him off for getting in the middle of her and Carlos but she just shook her head. “Your dad is gonna be pissed. You should go.”
“I don’t know which one would land me in hotter water,” Jay lamented for a moment, leaning back on his hands. “Skipping the meeting altogether or showing up late.” It was a lose-lose situation, and he knew it. His father was already stewing anger - to push it off completely might just get him killed at last.
“Remember last time you tried to do that?” Mal’s eyes flicked to his shoulder where he knew a long, white scar ran in a scraggly path across the skin. His dad hadn’t been aiming for his shoulder, but the dagger had hit there all the same.
“He missed.”
“He won’t miss again.”
Throwing back his head, Jay groaned. “I don’t wanna fucking see him tonight.”
Mal let out a little breath through her nose, and for a moment, Jay saw a flash of understanding there. “Yeah, well,” she shrugged. “I don’t think they care much about what we want.”
After a few moments, Jay was aware of movement out of the corner of his eye. Carlos had scooted a little closer, listening intently. His eyes blinked slowly, and some of his earlier trepidation had melted away.
“You got parents?” Jay couldn’t help asking it.
Carlos didn’t answer, but something about the way his tongue darted out across his lower lip did it for him. He doubted he’d get anything better than that, so Jay let it be.
“I gotta go.” He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulder back. “Like I said, Carlos, you can stay here or leave. Just as long as you meet us in the marketplace at ten tomorrow.”
And this time, Carlos nodded.
“Hey, Jay.” Mal’s voice reached him before he stepped out the door. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her eyes - blazing and green - glowing above a mouth set into a hard, grim line. “If he touches you…”
“We’ll give him hell.”
----
Ten o’clock dawned cold and grey.
Jay and Mal stood in the market, leaning against a brick wall as they surveyed the bazaar and all its glory. They usually spent a good ten minutes messing around - either harassing younger kids running by or creating scuffles over stolen bits from stalls. Today, though, they had a new mission: a new charge.
Carlos stood beside them, the tips of his pale curls glowing softly in the early morning light.
“Jay’s gonna do the heavy lifting,” Mal told them both in hushed voices, probably more for Carlos’ sake than Jay’s. “And Spots? You’re gonna clean it up. Take the shit he can’t. Look small, innocent, unassuming.”
Jay flexed some, blowing on his hands to warm them up. He needed his fingers to be in working order to slip under skirts and shirts. “Dragon Girl, you joining us today?” In the past, the two of them had tagged-team the bazaar runs, bouncing off each other’s reputation and strengths. But lately, Mal had been disappearing in the mornings under the pretense of “leader responsibilities.” Jay wasn’t an idiot; he knew there was some shady, secret business bleeding into the morning hours, but he didn’t press it. If Mal was keeping something quiet, he’d come to understand it was for good reason.
“I wanna see how you guys work together,” came her response, quiet, but firm. “Impress me.”
Jay nodded and turned to Carlos, gesturing to the people already trickling into the bazaar. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he had a sudden urge to test Carlos out solo in front of Mal. Maybe he wanted her to see what he saw. “More people are gonna start coming in. I’ll give you a mark, and we can see how well you do.”
He picked a rather easy target to start - an older witch loitering at one of the stalls that boasted a rather impressive collection of cracked jars and vases. From afar, he and Mal watched as Carlos approached the woman, hunkering down low with hunched shoulders and a racking cough. The woman hardly paid any notice to him, sidestepping him with a turned up nose - not even bothering to hold the pockets of her cloak out of his reach. As she passed, Jay just caught the quick flash of a freckled hand diving into her cloak before he scurried under a stall and disappeared.
Glancing over at Mal, Jay tried to gauge her reaction. Her mouth was expressionless, but he thought he caught a hint of approval in her eyes.
“Not bad,” she shrugged. “But that was an easy mark. Anyone else, and he would’ve been caught or at least noticed.”
“It’s a start.” Jay knew Carlos was an asset. Something in those bright, big eyes was different; intelligent. And that more than made up for his silence. “I’ve spent my life surviving on gut instinct,” Jay told Mal softly. “Trust me. He’s gonna be good for us.”
Carlos popped up from underneath a different stall, coming back over to their rendezvous and presenting his findings. He’d gotten his hands on a gold pocket watch and several coins.
“Cheapskate,” Mal muttered, eyeing the witch who was still browsing the jars. “Spotty, you’re gonna have to show us you can do that on some tougher marks. But for now, Jay will take you through the rest of the morning stock-up. I got somewhere I need to be.”
As she walked away, Carlos’ eyes followed her. She hadn’t tried to take any of the things he’d stolen, and now, he stared at the collection of odds and ends - confused.
“She doesn’t take what we steal,” Jay explained, hoping he’d interpreted his confusion correctly. “We get to keep it to handle whatever transactions or - or business we need. She knows we’ll put aside some of it for the pool.” Mal knew what Jafar demanded; what the punishment was if Jay didn’t pull through - so she never demanded any of his primary steals. Unfortunately, Jafar outranked them both. In fact, his body ached from his father’s punishment the previous evening; even alcohol couldn’t dull Jafar’s anger at being almost stood up.
The junk shop shelves aren’t gonna stock themselves, boy, he always said, usually punctuated by one or another gold coins slipping through his fingers and clattering on the table. Jafar kept them all cinched up in a ratty purple velvet bag, and sometimes Jay wondered whether they were the only thing keeping his father rolling out of bed day in and day out.
Jay was jerked back to the bazaar by a soft quick tug on his sleeve. Turning, he saw Carlos nodding his head towards a new group of people heading into the market. Jay recognized them as Tremaine grandchildren. The once-aristocratic family still held themselves as near-royalty - despite the island’s indifference towards them - and they could almost always be counted on for a quick steal.
Jay grinned at Carlos, motioning him forward. “Time to grab our lunch.”
They got almost half a loaf of bread, several apples, and even a bit of cheese for their trouble. When the boys walked into the hideout a few hours later bearing a lunch almost double the size Jay and Mal were used to, Mal’s eyes glowed intensely.
“You guys did good,” she finally concluded, pouring a bit of cider from a flask to clean her knife before slicing into the meal. “This is more than we’ve had to eat in days.”
Carlos rocked back and forth on his heels, looking almost pleased with himself. Or maybe he was just excited to sink his teeth into some actual fruit that wasn’t canned for once. As Mal doled out the portions, they eagerly shoved the bread, cheese, and fruit into their mouths.
“Carlos?”
The boy looked up, his eyes widening, and Jay realized it was the first time Mal had really addressed him directly by his name.
“You still haven’t told us your lineage.” She laid a piece of cheese on an apple slice and almost hummed in pleasure as it entered her mouth.
There were several moments of silence, and Jay figured Carlos would ignore her, but after a few more beats (maybe to polish off his last bit of bread), he unzipped one of his pockets and removed a fur tail.
Mal made eye contact with Jay for half a second before understanding dawned on her face. “Cruella.”
Jay didn’t miss the way Carlos tensed when the name was uttered, how his fingers closed around the tail.
“She as batshit as they say she is nowadays?” Mal asked, almost casually.
Carlos didn’t answer.
“You loyal to Cruella?” Mal was asking the important questions. They had to know where Carlos stood, what he would spill to his mother, if he’d rat them out given a chance or the right incentive.
But Carlos shook his head, his tongue darting out across his bottom lip. Jay could feel the tension radiating off of him and waves. Attempting to diffuse his discomfort, Jay made a quick gesture with his hands - similar to that of someone turning a door knob halfway under. His hand created the letter “C” and held Carlos’ attention for a moment.
“We’ll use this whenever we’re talking about her.” Jay wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was doing, but the name itself seemed to set Carlos off; perhaps some hand signals would make things easier for him. “See? To warn you or whatever.”
Carlos copied the motion, his bright eyes quickly catching on. In a moment, he was mirroring Jay’s exact original sign.
Cruella had become a simple hand signal - just a few twists of their fingers, nothing more.
Once again, Carlos wet his lips. And then, in small, shaking voice, he whispered, “Bad.”
Jay had never heard the boy utter a single word until now. His mouth dropped open a little, and his eyebrows shot up. So Carlos could talk. It had only been one word - and a pretty simple word at that - but at least they knew he could do it. Mal cleared her throat, looking only mildly interested - still, Jay caught the way her eyes widened and figured she’d been more surprised than she was letting on now. Now that they knew Carlos could talk, Jay wondered if he’d let on a little more or fall silent again.
“Cruella is… bad?” he prompted, leaning a little closer like it was only the volume of his voice that kept him from hearing the other boy properly.
“Yeah, no shit, she’s bad,” Mal commented suddenly, scoffing a little. “This is the Isle of the Lost, not Isle of the Saints.”
Jay elected to ignore her and continue focusing on Carlos. “Bad… like… to you? What’s ‘bad’?”
Carlos didn’t answer, only blinking at him steadily.
“Mmm,” Mal mused, watching the two of them carefully. “Wonder if -” she paused, doing her best attempt to copy the sign, “ - you know - she knows where he is. He didn’t go home last night.”
“He said he’s not loyal to her.” Jay turned to Carlos, raising an eyebrow as a thought occurred to him. “Did you run away?”
It couldn’t be possible. Sure, the de Vil kid was scrappy and good with a knife, but alone? On an island full of perverts and villains? No doubt being hunted down by various goons and spies of his mother? Jay didn’t like those odds at all.
“Yes.” Carlos’ voice was quiet, but it didn’t waver or tremble. Hearing it sent something straight down Jay’s spine; something he couldn’t quite explain.
“Shit.” Jay stared at him. “So, what? You’ve just… made it this far on your own? And Cru - she hasn’t caught you, yet?”
A pause and then - “No.”
“So great, he knows the words bad, yes, and no,” Mal huffed. “Goddamn Iago could run circles around him.” But even though her words were harsh, Jay detected a slightly - possessive - tone in Mal’s voice. Carlos was growing on her.
“Is she looking for you?” Jay wondered if Cruella’s goons had their eyes on him. Maybe they’d already reported back to Cruella about his and Mal’s claim; maybe they knew he was theirs now. “Carlos, you know that we’re gonna protect you, right? Even if she’s hunting you down as we speak? How long ago did you escape? Is she -”
“Jay.” Mal put a hand on his shoulder, and for a moment, he thought she’d go off about how pointless it was, but she only nodded in his direction and shrugged. “He spoke on his terms, not ours. He’ll tell us if he’s ready - when he’s ready. Right, Spotty?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carlos answered in a small, sure voice. Jay marveled at the sound of it, but felt a twinge of dread at how obedient it sounded. Carlos - with lightning fast legs and golden eyes and quick-thrown knives - sounded much too submissive for Jay’s comfort.
Mal must’ve agreed because she shook her head. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not my mother. Just Mal.”
Carlos chewed on his lower lip, mulling that over. Finally, he nodded and whispered something that might’ve been, “Yes.”
And Mal smiled. “We’ll set you up with some blankets and pillows, alright? This is a safe place. She can’t get you here.”
As Jay helped her grab old moth-eaten blankets and pillows without covers from their various stashes around the room, he tried not to dwell too much on Carlos’ home life. Most kids he knew had shitty places to crawl back to at the end of the day - certainly much worse than his. Perhaps his carpet roll wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was still a place to sleep. And unless he really didn’t produce a big enough haul, Jafar tended to let him stay there for most of the night.
“I heard the pirates are thinking of taking another chunk out of the south side of the island,” Mal told him as they worked. “You know, along the cliffs?”
“You still obsessing over that?” Jay raised an eyebrow. “I thought we had an arrangement for a truce.”
“We did.” Mal’s face went dark, a storm brewing behind her eyes. “They broke it. Guess that arrangement didn’t last long, huh?”
Jay knew all about arrangements - especially those that ended in soft gasps in dark alleyways. He had a reputation on the island, and everyone knew it. He’d never known Mal to be particularly obsessed with that sort of thing, but sometimes she was hard to read; he often wondered what went on when she disappeared.
The small tent of various blankets and pillows looked comfortable, at least. The structure was questionable, but overall, Jay figured it would hold. He turned to Carlos, gesturing to it.
“Hey, ‘Los,” he smiled. “You can sleep here, alright?”
And although Carlos didn’t say anything else, Jay thought he saw the corner of his mouth into something like a smile.