Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jacob doesn’t feel many emotions, anger, fear, joy, lust, and sadness essentially cover it all. He feels large amounts of a certain emotion without much in betweens, though indifference or joy is the one he mostly tries to portray, its never usually what he feels. In his mind, it’s always been hazy, his behaviors, characteristics, and emotions have all been decided by his father or the brotherhood up until the past few years, after his father’s passing, and after he was set free into London to do his own thing without the adults looking over his shoulder. It makes him feel free, all the suffering he had to endure wasn’t worth it, no, but he can now feel however he’s capable of feeling. Lust was his main emotion in his personal personal life, never love, just lust. If his father, or God forbid the Brotherhood could see where he is now, he’d have his ass handed to him or be murdered for his transgressions. No matter the cost, he’s glad that he’s free now, he doesn’t cry often, but when he does, it’s usually due to an emotional breakdown. Murdering people is a tough job, you have to live your whole life knowing you ended a life prematurely, taking them from their loved ones before their time, which is a good reason for the breakdowns, but he can’t figure out how he ended up in this position, not for the life of him.

***

Jacob sits on a couch backstage in the Alhambra, Maxwell Roth sitting next to him. They’ve been talking over rules, regulations, and duties that must be fulfilled should they collaborate in order to take down Crawford Starrick, a common enemy, a common threat, and the master behind the grand curtain, the God of London with the citizens and government wrapped around his finger, one man making the entire British government fear or respect him so much, it’s like a puppet show, watching him pull the strings behind the marionettes and watch the people dance to whatever music he plays.

The pair have been negotiating and negotiating, trying to find common ground and cover all bases, Jacob doing most of the work since he doesn’t exactly trust this alliance, Roth being one of Starrick’s right hand men and all... but he still tries to come up with a way for them to work together, Roth refilling their glasses of alcohol (switching it up from time to time, wine in one take and beer in the next) whenever needed and adding small nods and sounds of agreement here and there unless he finds something he can’t uphold or refuses to, seemingly tuning in and out as he stares at Jacob, taking a drink from his glass from time to time. Jacob notices Maxwell has been moving closer, but since he feels that after two hours of bargaining, they might finally be getting to a common ground and ending the night on a good note, he says nothing.

Jacob flinches slightly when their knees make contact, falling silent for a moment, he takes a drink from his glass, swallowing thickly before continuing as nothing happened. “And so, if you’ll agree to my terms, I believe we could make this work,” he finishes, downing the rest of the liquid in his glass.

Roth smirks, placing his own glass on the table with a soft clank as the glass makes contact with the wood, moving his arm opposite of Jacob down to the assassin’s knee, his other arm on the back of the couch beside Jacob’s head, “Sounds like you have a new partner then..” he purrs, gently drumming his fingers against Jacob’s inner thigh.

Jacob tenses under the hand, he freezes up since he’s never been in a situation such as this before.

“Huh, so you’re not very flirtatious when the other person makes the first move?” Roth asks, moving away completely, he goes over to a table on the opposite side of the room, grabbing his glass and bringing it over to refill it. He puts the cap back on the bottle and turns his attention back to the Frye, “Or am I just too intimidating for you?” He finishes, taking a drink of the amber liquid.

Jacob watches him, licking his lips out of habit while he thinks about how to respond, “Neither, I’m just... confused... that’s all...” he states with furrowed eyebrows, refusing to admit that he felt something odd when he made contact with the actor.

Roth quirks a brow, seemingly invested, “Confused? About what, dear?” He asks, amused by the expression of bewilderment that comes and passes quickly from Jacob’s face.

“Just... all of this, I mean, making a pact with someone you’re supposed to be killing is a little bit... strange... especially when they know this fact, and well.”

Roth hums quietly, the sound reverberating slightly into the glass, “Yes, I do understand that, it is strange the first time, but keeping someone out to murder you at lease a house’s length away from you, no matter the dimensions is pretty... hm.. silly..” he struggles to find a word that isn’t rude for the final noun, “was there anything else on your mind..?”

Jacob stares at him, a million thoughts passing through his mind, “Have you ever been with a man?” He asks absentmindedly, something he has wondered for a long time with the way Lewis stares at Maxwell, despite it being wrong, his curiosity gets the better of him as it usually does, Jacob regretting the second it leaves his mouth.

Roth chokes on his drink, caught off guard by the question, he recovers before responding, “Why, yes, I have, what’s it to you?” He asks, voice slightly raspier than usual.

“Oh, nothing, just curiosity...” Jacob responds, looking away.

“You don’t walk into your ‘enemy’s’ place of work and rest, become partners with them, then ask who they’ve been with out of curiosity...” Roth states almost silently.

“Yes I do,” Jacob says dismissively.

Roth sets the glass down again, taking a few strides over to Jacob, he places his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Jacob, leaning over when Jacob moves his body back flat against the back of the couch.

“Try that again...” Maxwell warns, staring down into Jacob’s auburn eyes with a cold, piercing gaze.

Jacob opens his mouth for a moment, closing it immediately afterwards, his eyes darting from Maxwell’s eyes to his mouth and back.

It takes Roth a moment, but it clicks, he mumbles a small ‘oh’ as he puts one and one together, taking a few more seconds to put two and two together, he smiles to himself, though he directs it towards Jacob.

“You know, curiosity killed the cat, right, dear?” Roth asks, dropping his tone.

“I... thought it was care...”

“Originally, yes, but reinterpretation is what theater is for, and that’s how I read it,” Roth explains.

“Oh, well, yes, I do know the proverb because of Evie, but I’ll be damned if it gets in the way of a good time,” Jacob says with a chuckle, confidence already restored.

It is true, he finds Roth to be attractive, both physically and mentally, the scar on his face just adding to Jacob’s infatuation with the actor. Curiosity is one of many words he could use in this situation, but for the simplicity and sake of the current situation taking place and developing, he’ll define his emotion with the simple word, curiosity.

“A good time you say? And what would that entail?”

Jacob thinks for a moment, running over the rewards and consequences should anyone find out, ultimately deciding that the consequences don’t matter, he has an opportunity here and now to explore a bit according to the proximity and behaviors of Maxwell, though that might just be the alcohol in either of them, Jacob doesn’t think about it to hard, surging forward and pressing his lips to Maxwell’s.

Roth makes a noise of surprise, having never expected such a bold move from the young assassin, but, despite them being temporary partners before returning to enemies and having to fight till the las drop of blood is spilt, he kisses back, matching the pace Jacob set, soft and cautious, though Maxwell isn’t at all cautious, having been down this road enough times to know it’s not anything to fear.

Jacob quickly gains his confidence back for the fifth time tonight, moving his arms up to Maxwell’s neck, pulling him in closer and effectively knocking his hat off the rest of the way. Maxwell gently licks his lower lip, asking for entry that Jacob gladly grants, tilting his head slightly so the position isn’t as uncomfortable. Their tongues move in what feels like a synchronized fashion, neither trying to fight the other, not yet at least, they just want to map out the territory they might be claiming, and that’s a large might. Red wine and whiskey mixing together, it doesn’t taste good, not by any means, but isn’t the worst combination Jacob has had tonight, maybe because the tastes are faint, maybe there’s another reason, no matter the case, Jacob can’t complain.

A small whine falls from Jacob’s mouth when Roth pulls away, something he didn’t recognize as coming from him. Despite both of them being out of breath, the blighter straightens his posture, pushing off of the couch to help himself up, he moves over slightly before sitting on the couch next to Jacob. He gently pats his lap, a signal for the younger Frye to come over and sit on his lap. It takes a moment for it to click, but Jacob does as Maxwell silently requested.

Max makes a slightly pleased sound, looking Jacob up and down, he traces the hem of the assassin’s vest. Jacob admittedly feels extremely exposed, his coat hanging over a seat on the other side of the room and his gauntlet that holds his hidden blade resting on the table behind him, two things Maxwell had suggested he do for his comfort, and he was more comfortable and pliable, but also severely underdressed in his and most everyone in the Brotherhood’s eyes, but now wasn’t about them, now is about him, him and how he feels.

“All these buttons and belts, gadgets and fabric... seems like it should slow you down or at the very least make you uncomfortable when moving...” Maxwell acknowledges absently.

“It’s something you get use to rather quickly, for your sake and the sake of others.”

“Well, in any case, I must say you do look dashing in all those layers, though I’m sure you’d look great in most anything...” Roth moves his left hand to Jacob’s waist, resting it just above his pelvis while his right hand ventures up to Jacob’s face, gently cupping his cheek, he sits up, Jacob helping him by moving down and meeting him half way, their lips meeting again, slow and passionate. Roth’s hand doesn’t remain on his cheek for long, moving to the back of his head, smooth, soft hair beneath his fingers, he gently pets Jacob’s head.

When they pull away, Roth finishes his past statement, his breathing rather calm in comparison to Jacob’s, “Though...” he looks Jacob up and down once more, “I think you’d look much better without anything on...”

Jacob’s breathing catches in his throat, “I um...” he furries his eyebrows, thinking for a moment, “We’ll get there...” he says as a final thought.

Roth smiles wolfishly at the thought, he unbuttons the top two buttons on Jacob’s vest, moving his mouth down to his neck, moving the fabric of his shirt so he can press gentle kisses to his collarbone, soon adding small bites and licks into the equation, soft, almost unnoticeable noises turning into quiet moans as Roth gets more bold.

“God, I swear, I’ll string you up and set you a flame if you leave a mark...” Jacob growls, hands gripping Maxwell’s shoulders tightly.

“Is that a promise?” He asks with a small chuckle, pulling away, the flesh he was giving all his attention to only slightly red and covered in saliva, but nothing more. “And why am I not allowed to leave a mark?” He inquires.

“I have to go back to the train whenever it comes by to go over some plans with Evie and I don’t want her asking any questions,” Jacob replies simply.

“So maybe next time?” A small smile returns to his face when Jacob nods, the assassin looking unenthused. Roth sighs softly, moving the hand on Jacob’s waist down to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it and savoring the unfiltered and loud sound that falls from Jacob’s lips, humored by the fact that he tries to cover his mouth with his hand after the fact. “Too much?” He asks with a villainous glint in his eyes, probably because he’s supposedly one of the villains in the Frye twin’s story.

Jacob shoots him a dirty look, “We’re out in a public area, Max...” he mumbles, uncovering his mouth slightly and covering it back up when he finishes.

“Yes, and? They know not to come back here when I’m doing business since people usually get... violent... during transactions and they don’t want to get killed, or worse.”

“Oh, so no matter what happens, they aren’t coming back?” Jacob asks, genuinely curious.

“No, definitely not, but I don’t think we’d be able to do much if you have to be out of here by a certain time... we can go back into my office next time...”

Jacob makes a small sound of acknowledgement, moving Roth’s hand away from his groin and back up to his waist, now grinding down against Roth’s prominent erection, dragging a low groan from them both, he pushes himself down in hard, meaningful motions.

Roth untangles his hand from Jacob’s hair, moving the hand down with his left to grip Jacob’s ass, helping this thrusts and bringing their mouths together again, different than the past three times, this time both brash and uncaring, teeth on teeth and tongue on tongue, the taste of copper taking its residence in both of their mouths after Maxwell knicks Jacob’s lip with one of his canines, Jacob not noticing it until he tastes the blood, knowing it can be dealt with later, he ignores it, too lost in the man beneath him to care.

And even with how short as it feels like it has been, chasing his own pleasure and trying something new in order to do so, it comes to an end, the faint sound of a train bellowing registering in the back of Jacob’s mind, he pulls away from Roth slowly, both breathing heavily, the sound echoing through the Strand once more and sounding much closer than it did a few seconds ago.

“Fuck, I have to go,” Jacob says quickly, getting up and buttoning his vest back up, he quickly moves about the room gathering his things and placing them on his person, skillfully putting himself back together as though this encounter with Roth was strictly professional, the man of the hour, Maxwell Roth staring at him all the while with a large smile painted on his face.

“I take it that I’ll be seeing you again soon, then?” Roth asks smugly.

Jacob smiles at him, climbing up into the open window sill, “I guess we’ll just see, now won’t we?” He asks, question coming out like it was meant to be a statement, before he jumps out of the window, running off into the dimly lit London streets, chasing the sound of the train so his sister doesn’t rip him a new one.

Maybe... just maybe they can make this partnership work.

Chapter Text

Maxwell and Jacob are around three months into their partnership, Twopenny and Lucy Thorne only having fallen in the past two months, and with that, as the heads of the regions go, only Roth, Lord Cardigan and Starrick remain. Jacob knows that after Cardigan falls he’ll have no choice but to kill Roth, and because of this fact, he’s been putting it off, doing small things for the Rooks instead of taking the remaining Blighter leader on directly, trying to buy himself more time in order to figure out if this actor is really worth risking everything for. He has started to feel things he never knew he could feel with Roth, no matter how the meetings go, he always leaves with a smile at the very least. Evie hasn’t been bothering him much as of late, usually spending her time with Henry or trying to track down where the piece of Eden is, because of this, Jacob is able to spend as much time as he wants wherever he wants, even with this ability, he works during the day and returns to the Alhambra at night, only doing this once a week to keep the possibility of rumors spreading at a minimum, working with Marx, Dickens, and Darwin a lot to bide his time until the next visit to the theater. Days feel like months when he isn’t with Roth, and when he is, he feels like time flies before he has to leave, even so, he feels like he takes the time for granted, time is by no means in his side, with every passing day, the time that he has to act comes closer, but he enjoys what time they have together, he respects it and obeys Roth without hesitation. Despite feeling the curtains beginning to close on their time together, they still continue on as though they have all the time in the world, but the week before Jacob has to take the opportunity he has to kill Cardigan, he makes a move, changing their relationship for the better or for the worst? Only time will tell, but as things go now, it seems to be for the better.

***

Jacob lies on the desk beneath Roth, his torso completely exposed and clothes scattered on the floor beside it, next to the objects that not even five minutes ago cluttered the desk and the clothing that Maxwell has removed from himself. Jacob lets quiet sounds fall from his lips while Roth explores every inch of Jacob’s exposed flesh. He stands so he can pull Jacob’s boots and trousers off, absentmindedly tossing them into the messy pile once they’re off. Roth takes Jacob’s cock in hand, pumping it at a slow speed, but holding it tightly to make up for the slow pace.

Jacob’s breathing hitches when Maxwell gets to work, the male digging into the table below him as Roth gets on his knees, continuing to pump, but licking and kissing the head from time to time. Before Jacob can even get his mind to create a coherent sentence, Roth licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, starting from the base and making his way up to the head, taking it into his mouth once he gets there and starting to bob his head along the length of the shaft almost immediately. Jacob lets out a strangled cry at the sensation, arching his back off the desk and whining loudly, unable to help himself when Roth begins to massage his balls with one hand, the other gently rubbing his entrance, the older male obviously skilled in this area.

Roth pushes his finger past the right ring of muscle, setting a slow pace at first, it doesn’t take more than a minute until he feel’s Jacob tightening around his finger, the boy’s cock twitch as he tries to keep himself from coming, a task that he ultimately fails at, spilling his seed in Roth’s mouth while the actor sucks on the head, finger hitting Jacob’s prostate and throwing him over the edge. Maxwell takes the empty trash bin next to him and spits Jacob’s come into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the hand working on stretching Jacob slowing while he does this, a second finger being added once he finishes, thrusting in and out for about a minute before beginning to scissor him. Maxwell continues to add more of his own saliva now and again, opening the bottle of oil he fished out of his top desk drawer and getting a healthy amount in his hand, dropping the bottle, he curses quietly as the liquid spills from the glass onto the wooden floors, glad it didn’t shatter, but still pissed that he just wasted a whole bottle of oil.

Jacob whines quietly, his body aching and cock already beginning to harden once again, he hears the clatter and it feels like just after it hits the ground he’s being flipped over, a noise of surprise exiting his mouth when Maxwell pushes into him, stopping when he meets resistance and slowly working his way in as to not damage the boy, but despite this, it still hurts Jacob to an extent, feeling his walls being stretched so much more than he’s use to.

“It’s alright, love, I’ve got you...” Maxwell coos, pressing small, comforting kisses to the assassin’s left shoulder, waiting until he loosens up around him before he begins to thrust, slow and shallow at first, but building up the depth as time passes and the haze clouding Jacob’s mind leaves, the pain turning to pleasure as he gets use to the feeling and comes back from the post-coitus ‘bliss’.

Jacob moves his left arm up to rest his head on, pulling his right leg up onto the desk as far up as he can despite the pain and discomfort it causes him. Roth takes this as a sign to harden his thrusts slightly, going along with what the male below him appears to want, Jacob crying out beneath him when he hits that special spot within him again, biting down on his forearm and digging his nails into the desk and his thigh, Roth’s thrusts making everything go deeper into flesh and wood than it would have without the momentum added by the his moving body, but, thankfully, the punctures only draw small amounts of blood, at least in his leg, though the warm crimson liquid trickles down his arm, he makes the best of the situation and ignores the growing pain, thrusting into Roth’s hand when he grasps the boy’s cock tightly, hand still slippery from the oil, Jacob slips past his fingers with ease.

Jacob begins to approach his second climax, noting Roth’s thrusts growing more and more erratic, he assumes the Blighter is as well, finding out he was right when Maxwell pulls out, stroking himself a few times before coming on Jacob’s back with a low rumble, the sound rising from the back of his throat. After a few moments, he puts himself back in Jacob, looking to completely rude out his own orgasm and finish getting Jacob off at the same time, Jacob thrusting into Roth’s hand a few more times and coming on his lower abdomen and the side of Maxwell’s desk, a strangled cry falling from his lips as his hips stutter to a stop, the boy tightening around Maxwell once more. The two remain in the same position for a few minutes before Maxwell removes himself to go grab something to clean the both of them up, finding a cloth in his desk that he uses to clean up their mess to the best of his abilities, helping Jacob back into his trousers and shirt after helping himself and buttoning his own shirt up, knowing that the Alhambra isn’t often a warm place and worrying for Jacob’s health. He offers Jacob a seat on the couch in the office while he cleans up his desk and neatly places the rest of their clothes on it, returning to Jacob afterwards.

They talk about various topics for a little while, Jacob lying his head on Roth’s lap and slowly drifting off to sleep with Roth still petting his head. Jacob awakes the next morning on the couch, alone, but with the rest of his clothes, a note, and an invite before him, the note is an apology from Maxwell for having to leave him alone, and also explaining the invitation as though the invite itself didn’t have the date, time, and location of the event, specifically a play at the Alhambra taking place at 7pm next Friday, the day after Lord Cardigan was supposed to be executed. Jacob gets dressed, pocketing the note and invitation before leaving through the window, trying to plan out how he can fit a masquerade themed play into his plans after he murders someone, but too determined to make it to give up. By god, he’ll make it if it kills him, after everything he and Roth have been through together, done together, after how close they’ve become, he can’t miss it, not for the world, he just couldn’t.

Chapter Text

The week slowly passes, Lord Cardigan being laid to rest, Jacob spends the rest of the night in the train, cleaning his pistol, cane, and hidden blade, polishing them until they all but shine. He leaves the train an hour before dusk, sitting on one of the buildings near the Alhambra, he stares out into the horizon, watching as the blue sky begins to turn purple, orange, and yellow, shades of red dancing along with the aforementioned colors, clouds decorating it, and as the sun sets, seemingly framing the sun, like a portrait to be hung upon a wall. A wonder of nature, something the people of London, the people of the world have the opportunity to see most every day, and most of the time they do see it, but they only see it, not observing the beauty, nor admiring it, only seeing it. Jacob wants nothing more than to have the ability or patience to see the sunset or sunrise every day, such a simple thing that makes his heart flutter since no matter what he does, no matter what the Templars or Assassins do to each other or the world, the sun will always be there, as will the moon and stars. While friends and family all die, most of the time killed in their line of work, the beauties that decorate the sky don’t, they can’t. The wondrous creations that go mostly unnoticed hold the greatest value in some people, insects fascinating some, the ocean captivating others, but the sky and all the opportunity it holds and brings keeps Jacob going, and once in a while, once in a great while, he’s able to enjoy it, such a small thing, but it brings him so much joy.

When the sun has sunk below the horizon, or, rather, beneath the buildings in the distance, Jacob rises, staring in the direction of it for a few more seconds before making his way to the Alhambra, climbing down from the building and walking there, he snatches a mask from one of the attendee’s pants, mask hanging from his belt. Jacob puts it on, walking up to the entrance and joining a group of people entering, he barely misses being caught by one of the Blighter guards, having several other close calls as he continues through the theater. He finally finds the seat Maxwell had gotten for him, sitting in the balcony on the end of the left side. He gets comfortable in the chair, observing his surroundings, he checks his gauntlet, tightening it on his wrist and making sure there’s no delay or malfunctioning in the weapon after noting how many Blighters are in the Alhambra. It’s not unexpected, no, but it still makes him feel uneasy.

The lights in the theater darken, Maxwell coming out to the front of the stage, he welcomes his guests, introducing his play and its inspiration, looking up at Jacob and smiling before he concludes his introduction, disappearing once more into the darkness of the back stage area. Silence fills the room aside from the murmurs of the people in the large crowd, a light flipping on mid stage with a young woman, the play beginning and the crowd quickly becoming dead silent as the woman meets a man, a classic love story, though in act three, a twist comes.

Act one and two flow smoothly, basic story, it’s similar to an opera, scenes playing and characters singing about their feelings on the matter and the actions they preform afterwards, dancing and moving about the stage as they do so in professionally produced and well executed mannerisms, the play like a river, having slow parts and fast parts, areas where you become fearful of what’s to happen next and areas where a calmness consumes you, all fear and turmoil leaving as the lines are sung or spoken. Act three is not as smooth, the actors seemingly disturbed by something, though they still continue on as though nothing is causing them issues. Between act three and four, the smell of smoke begins to fill the room, the crackling of fire and actual smoke following not too long after.

The crowd is split, some standing immediately and running while others wait until the fire spreads more, consuming the curtains and stage platform. During this time, as many people were, Jacob was in the bathroom, coming out to screaming and smoke wasn’t bad enough, since when he entered the theater itself, the fire was rapidly spreading through the room, having taken most of the area around the stage. Two of the rafters fall, one metal, and one wooden, sparks of the flames and ash flying up into the air. Men, children, and woman are all heading towards the exit, most of them choking on the fumes of the burning and melting surroundings.

Despite everything, Jacob covers his nose and mouth with his coat sleeve, struggling to breathe through the fabric, but he knows it’s better than risking it without a filter for his lungs. His eyes begin to sting as he rushes into the flames, though the heat and smoke hurt, he pushes on to make sure everyone has escaped, a lone figure standing in the middle of the stage more towards the back. After a few moments of staring, he freezes in his position, fear coursing through him. The person has a feminine form, clad in clothes that fit her body snugly, Jacob wouldn’t’ve been so scared had she not had a hood and cape on, obvious Brotherhood insignia on her clothing and a gun pointed towards the person on the ground beneath her feet, Maxwell Roth.

Through the crackling of the fire and wood splintering due to the intense heat, Jacob can make out the sound of chuckling, namely that of Maxwell. He moves towards the two, he knows the risk, and he also knows that in this situation, he has to take a chance or Maxwell will die. The woman bends down slightly, pressing the gun to Maxwell’s chest while the actor just stares up at her with a deceitful smile, seeming as though he’s enjoying this, even through the dust and smoked filled air that makes him choke whenever he breathes, only pushing himself closer to the weapon as his body tries to rid itself of the substance filling his lungs.

Jacob slowly approaches the staircase, watching his step as he tries to not trip, “Lower your weapon and leave now,” he shouts, voice muffled slightly by his clothes, he tries to make sure the other assassin hears him.

The woman stops, slowly rising back up, her body moves in a way that makes Jacob think she’s laughing. She makes sure the gun is still targeted at Maxwell’s chest, not saying a word.

“Look,” Jacob begins, taking one step towards center stage, “You don’t have to do this, he’s helping me get to Starrick, and once he proves to be useless to me, I’ll eliminate him myself,” his eyes flicker down to look at Max, the Blighter staring back at him with the same smile he stared at the female with, though disappointment seems to tug at his features along with slight anger.

“See, that’s the thing,” the woman croaks, voice unrecognizable, “he cant get you any further, Starrick knows about what he has done, so whether or not we kill him doesn’t matter, the Blighter’s will come after him if not us,” she does nothing to expose herself to Jacob, voice only loud enough to understand through the sounds of the burning.

“Even so, he could still prove useful.”

“And how’s that? He can’t get you any further and the longer you spend with him, the more you get attached,” there’s a slight bite to the last words.

“I know he knows something we don’t, Starrick wouldn’t have kept him alive this long if he didn’t,” he lies.

The woman stays silent for a few moments, “And you’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“How can I be sure?” She inquires.

“You have to trust me, I took an oath upon joining the Brotherhood, we all did.”

She seems to think about it for a moment before moving her finger back to the trigger, “I’m sorry, brother, but I don’t believe I can trust your word,” she says before pulling the trigger.

Upon hearing the words “I’m sorry,” Jacob starts to move towards her at a quick pace, breaking into a sprint when half way there, he tackles her to the ground, the gun going off. They both grunt as they make contact with the ground, Jacob not caring enough to figure out who she is, he gets on his knees, moving towards Maxwell, both of them choking. Maxwell begins to silent, a spot of blood beginning to form in his vest around the bullet hole.

Jacob curses to himself quietly, standing, he picks Maxwell up, looking over to where the woman was previously lying and seeing nothing, he turns to leave the burning building, making his way to one of the exits, he’s almost to the door when one of the wooden rafters break, crashing down on his right leg while he’s mid step. His body crashes to the ground with Maxwell’s, the male crying out in pain as the burning wood crushed and now begins to burn through his leg. Jacob moves his left leg up, using it to try an kick the wooden rafter off of his other leg, the pain coursing through his lower half. Jacob doesn’t give up easily, kicking the wooden object until it moves enough for him to pull his leg out from beneath it. He struggles to breathe, the flames and dust in the surrounding area making it ten times worse.

Jacob fights against his better wishes and best interest, standing once more and picking Maxwell up, he almost falls over, the pain in his leg unbearable, but he pushes himself until he’s outside and a safe distance from the building. He crashes to the ground outside the Alhambra, using his hand as a cushion for Max’s head. He lies there for a few minutes, the familiar sound of the fire bells rings through the alley, water pouring down onto their bodies. He pulls himself up, too scared to look down at his leg now, he moves into a position where he can’t see it, pain hitting him like a whole house fell on him. He looks over Maxwell, looking at the bullet wound, the bullet having pierced right next to his heart, Jacob knows he probably won’t make it, and he only has himself to blame for it.

For the first time in a long time, Jacob cries, the weight of knowing he could have stopped this from happening but didn’t, the pain of losing Max. Despite having not known Maxwell for long, he knows that he loved him, Roth was a good man, especially for a blighter and definitely with the childhood he came from.

Jacob checks Maxwell’s pulse, and after coming up with nothing, he plasters on a fake smile through the tears, moving his now bloodied hand up to cup Roth’s cheek. He gently rubs this thumb across his cheek, wiping some of the rain water away before its quickly replaced by new water that washes some of the blood away. Though he knows everything about their relationship was wrong, Jacob still is brought joy by the memories of it. He presses a small kiss to Roth’s forehead before lying down next to him on the cold, wet pavement and waiting to be found.