If he didn't die (Fargo fan-fiction)

Part 3

Five years ago, only a few months after they met, Numbers and Wrench were sat in a small black car off the highway on the outskirts of Moorhead. The road had been quiet for some time and the the inky darkness of night had surrounded the car. The two hitmen sat in silence as the hours dragged by and the cold made their breath form steamy clouds as they waited for their next target. 'Are you sure he's coming?' Wrench passed the the note over to his partner who read it quickly and just shrugged his shoulders before turning on the radio. He wished he had a different partner, one who could actually freaking talk to him, plus that tan fringed jacket gave him the creeps. Why had Fargo set him up with him out of all people? Wrench nudged him again and tapped the note violently with a hard scowl on his face.Why was he so impatient?

"Look, I don't know! Fargo said he would so..." Numbers trailed off mid-sentence when he saw the vacant expression on Wrench's face. He rolled his eyes and wrote back on the scrap of paper, 'Fargo said he would, just be patient'. Writing notes was basically their only way of communicating, Numbers had promised he would try and learn sign language but jobs just kept getting in the way, also, he was secretly hoping that he'd get a new partner before winter- who the hell has time to write notes in a blizzard? Wrench gave him a filthy look when he read the note and the two of them sat in silence for another few minutes before a scrawny man in a pinstripe suit came staggering towards the car and starting banging on the windows. Numbers and Wrench shot out of the car and stood shoulder to shoulder facing the stranger, this was definitely their guy.

"I got a call from a Mr.Johnson, said I'd meet him here," The tiny man adjusted his collar, clearly intimidated by the two giant figures stood inches away from him, "Which one are you?"

There was a pause as Wrench walked round to stand behind the quivering stranger and the man began to laugh uncomfortably,

"Come on, cat got your tongue? He tried to smile but faltered on the last word when he heard Mr.Wrench cracking his knuckles in anger and anticipation. Numbers cleared his throat and smiled sweetly,

"Mr.Johnson couldn't make it, we're associates of his." He grinned as Wrench gave the back of the guys knees a hearty kick and he fell to the floor. Numbers then pulled out a slim pistol and shot him in head, the tiny man fell to the ground as the blood started to drip out of his scalp. He then nodded to Wrench who flung the body in the trunk and slammed the lid shut. When he was sat back in the front of the car Numbers gave Wrench another note, 'I think that went rather well'.  After Wrench scanned the paper he leaned back to look Numbers in the face and, for the first time since they met, they both started to laugh.

Years later and Numbers was lying on a double bed in one of the cleaner hotels they'd visited whilst Wrench squeezed the excess water off a damp cloth in the en-suite bathroom. It had been three weeks since the incident and Numbers had finally been admitted out of hospital thanks to a lot of persuasion from Wrench. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Numbers' sprawled body and nudged him to show the cloth. Numbers closed his eyes in exasperation and signed with a weak hand, 'Do you have to?'

Wrench furrowed his brow and replied. 'You have to clean it every day. Doctors orders.' 

'Like I give a shit,' Numbers rested his head back on the pillow, not caring if Wrench was still watching, and signed 'Make it quick.'

 The stinging seemed to get worse every time and Wrench wasn't exactly a gentle man. He winced each time the damp cloth touched the gaping wound in his back and let out a little hiss of pain that he knew his partner couldn't hear. But Wrench, whilst unaware of Numbers' verbal protests, noticed each time his partners body flinched whilst he tried to clean the wound, it started to irritate him and he nudged Numbers with his free hand, 'Quit being a baby, it's just water'

Numbers barely looked up to sign, 'You're not the one who got stabbed in the back,' he paused for a second, 'Literally'

A small smile flickered across Wrench's face and he let out a short, hissing laugh. He then carried on tending the wound, trying to soften his touch a bit, and the two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Wrench pulled away the cloth and began to wrap bandages around his partners mid-section. When he had finished they both sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the eggshell blue that coated all the walls. Numbers yawned loudly, Wrench couldn't hear him so it didn't matter, and he lazily signed, 'I'm tired.Going to sleep'

Wrench looked at him angrily, 'You can't, I need some ears when I sort out where we're heading tomorrow.'

Now it was Numbers' turn to get angry as he replied 'I got out of hospital two days ago! Give me a break!'

Wrench got to his feet and beat out his response,'If you hadn't gone after Malvo by yourself this wouldn't have happened!'

Numbers' eyes flickered with rage, 'If you weren't my partner NONE of this would have happened!'

His words hung in the air as the room turned cold and sour. Wrench's strong body went weak and fell back as he registered the overly harsh tone in his partners comment and they both faltered in their rage to stare at each other, Wrench in disbelief and Numbers in regret. The hotel room was deathly silent as the argument settled in, Numbers tried to lift his hand to apologize but the bigger man had already stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Left alone in the room, Numbers swore under his breath as he heard his partner attack various items of furniture with a level of rage he was used to seeing on their targets- he hoped no-one would send staff up there. But, despite the hotels fancy decor, the employees seemed pretty inept and Numbers was left staring at the shaking door with frustration until the crashing came to a close.

 Gingerly, He padded across the beige carpet in his socks and hesitated before opening the door, he'd never been a victim to Wrench's rage before and he didn't want to start now. Behind the ivory painted panels was silence, which either meant Wrench was calm...or about to attack him. Either way, Numbers pushed opened the door with a careful hand and surveyed the room. 

"Jesus..." Numbers sighed as he saw the broken towel rack and ripped shower curtain that was lying on the floor in a broken heap, the sink wasn't completely destroyed though, so he guessed that was a plus. Wrench was sat in the corner of the room and looked up with guilty eyes as Numbers walked over to him. The bigger man started to flinch, expecting him to be angry again, but he was met with unusual sympathy.

'I'm sorry. I overreacted.' Numbers signed with a cool hand as he helped Wrench to his feet, there was a moment of silence before Wrench replied with a small nod of his head and walked over to sit on the bed. Numbers followed him in confusion and repeated,

'Look, I'm sorry!' He sat on the bed next to his partner, 'I respect you. Especially after what you did.' 

With that, he reached over and squeezed Wrench's hand in a comforting way. The big man looked over to him with wide eyes and Numbers gave him a warm smile after releasing his hand.  

'We need to go back to Fargo.'