Mercy

Strange how when the time came to die, Jacob didn't think much about the past. He'd seen some guys bawl over sweethearts, kids, people they'd never see again, or dreams they'd never fulfill. The bakery entered his mind and faded like a penny in the well. Thoughts of marriage, magic, angels… they weren't any more real than his nightmares and flashbacks, and he didn't mourn the what-if's.

What he saw in his mind's eye was people. Three kids protecting one another in a drafty back room. An old beggar with a niffler dangling in his hand. Mildred walking out to fend on her own. A doctor wavering on three hours of sleep, trying to remember his own instructions about morphine. The twin of a dark wizard accepting the wand of a little girl. Bouncy golden curls and the willingness to stand alone between evil and a total stranger. The fearless leap of a young witch attacking someone with ten times her power. A brave foreigner risking death to protect unnatural creatures from his own kind.

In those scant three seconds as the silver-hilted wand steadied between his eyes, he saw their courage, and he decided it was okay. He was prepared to die. Maybe it'd be heroic, or maybe it'd be futile, but in the line of service nobody cared. Protecting the innocent from mankind's heart, one foe at a time – this was where he belonged.

Blue sizzled on the end of Grindelwald's wand, and Jacob held the dark wizard's gaze. He'd finish this as a soldier. Unwavering.

He felt the blow on the back of his knees, and as the ceiling spiraled above him he braced for the implosive pain. His head struck Newt's shin and his left arm smacked a chair with the searing crack of a fractured elbow, yet his heart continue to pound and his skin remained intact.

"Dougal, stop it!" Newt shouted, scrambling over Jacob as the latter gripped his arm and marveled that he was still alive. Swearing, the Brit lunged and wrestled with thin air, before silver fur materialized and bounded from the floor to Grindelwald's shoulder and then to the corner just behind the dark wizard.

"One of your creatures, Mister Scamander?" Grindelwald spat. "I'll finish with him first." He kicked Newt onto his back and raised his wand, elaborately spinning blue from the tip.

Dewy blue eyes studied the wizard methodically. With an expression terrifyingly like a smile Dougal stooped and unlocked two brass clasps.

Newt swallowed.

"Jacob, when I tell you, move very quickly," he rasped.

But there simply wasn't time. Just as skidding, soft leather shoes slid into the entrance and a young man in a soft brown suit glanced at Newt and swore; just as Graves whipped around the intruder and shouted "Expelliarmus!" only for his wand to fly into Grindelwald's hand; just as Queenie apparated next to her sister and vanished with them both; just as the polished young man dove to catch up Newt –

Just as fire rose from Grindelwald's wand to consume them all, the demiguise cracked open the suitcase.

Thunder shook the room. Cabinets shuddered and books pelted from their shelves. Even before the first creature sprang from the impossible space Jacob was rolling, a surge of adrenaline bringing him to his feet for one last charge. Before Grindelwald could fully realize the threat and vanish, Jacob seized the lapels of the wizard's coat and swung. Cartilage smashed under his knuckles in a burst of mucus and blood.

Rage burned in dark eyes that were slowly turning blue. Flinging aside Tina's wand, Grindelwald clapped a hand to his bloodied nose and slipped a hand into his coat, plucking out a knobby wand that looked like bone. Greying hair leeched into spikes of greying-blond as the dark wizard shrugged.

"No last words, then," he said in a muffled, congested tone. He lilted the bone wand and stepped towards Jacob.

But the distraction had cost him dearly. A flash of purple and green erupted from the case, bowling Jacob aside as a beak the size of a frying pan clamped around Grindelwald's wrist. Bone crunched and the wand slipped from Grindelwald's lifeless fingers as he shrieked in agony.

Jacob hurdled into the last standing chair as sapphire coils filled the room. He caught one glimpse of Grindelwald tumbling under the mass before the serpent dropped a severed hand and sidewinded, smashing two walls under its enormous girth. Its tail cleared the suitcase just as a golden horn sprang free. With a fierce, trumpeting holler the erumpet bolted from the tight space. The floorboards gave way under its massive feet and Jacob had one glimpse of light hair before Grindelwald vanished under the hurtling mountain.

Roaring heralded above the sound of tumbling architecture as the nundu sprang forth, following the erumpet's path. Graphorns galloped behind it and lightning burst from the case as a screeching Thunderbird launched upward in a dazzling wash of storm. The building's electricity plunged and the cloudburst soaked cindered paperwork.

Slipping and scrabbling, Jacob curled up with his arm over his head. A hippogriff's rear hoof grazed his shoulder as the creature skittered away from a dragon poking its snout out of the case. The dragon spouted smoke, too doused to breathe fire, and clambered from its confines, a clawed wing crashing down over Jacob's head.

He screamed then, surrounded by teeth and claws and hooves and fangs, soaked and bruised and lost in a throng of angry beasts. Grindelwald had hurt their keeper, and now Jacob would be crushed in their retribution.

The wing flared skyward and Jacob heaved for air, tucking into himself as it flapped and zoomed towards his head. He heard the hippogriff squawk indignantly as fabric slashed and someone swore in pain, before a hand clamped around his wrist and he was hauled out of the dragon's range.

"Run!" Graves barked, shoving Jacob ahead of him. As Jacob dodged the hippogriff Graves spun away from the entrance, lunging for the silver-tipped wand that wavered on the broken floorboards. His fingers brushed the handle just as a graphorn stamped below, and he howled as the wand dipped into the abyss.

"Mister Graves, look out!" Jacob hollered. He stared helplessly as the dragon swerved, hungry eyes honing in on an unrecognized wizard.

Just as curved teeth spread, the air sizzled around Jacob and someone new latched onto his arm. He caught a snatched image of a man in a brown trench coat and fedora grabbing hold of Graves' shoulder and vanishing, before the room whirled into apparition and he found himself kneeling in an unrecognizable room, hurling his guts onto the symbol of an eagle.

"Let me speak with them – let me go down there!" Jacob heard Newt wailing. He'd never heard that kind of tone before, not even when the kid was hurting. "They were protecting me! They're not dangerous! They'll calm down once they see me!"

"Mister Scamander," a woman enunciated irritably.

Wiping his mouth, Jacob straightened and stared at the huddle of wizards in fedoras and the black-robed queen standing in their midst. The Brit in brown halted his inspection of Newt's jaw and strode up to the woman, his polished shoes halting inches from the hem of her elegant dress. Though he matched her for height his posture loomed like a stalking lion, and his teeth bared in a terrifyingly polite smile. She met his eyes coolly. Brave woman.

"Madam President," the man said thinly.

"Mister Scamander," she parried.

Scamander… wait, wasn't that like –

Oh. Oh.

Hunching, Newt gazed at his older brother, waiting for him to perform the miracle to save his precious creatures. Admiration and trust shone without provocation. Jacob decided he kinda hated Theseus.

"As I informed you in our meeting earlier this week, the animals below are under the protection of the Ministry of Magic," Theseus said with pleasant acidity. "My aurors will help you retrieve them. They are not to be harmed. You will be compensated for any damage."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and returned to his brother's side.

"Just needs some dittany," Newt insisted, hissing as Theseus prodded an exceptional bruise on his cheekbone.

"Only you," Theseus intoned, "Would engage the most dangerous wizard in history. Why the devil weren't you wearing the coat?"

Agitatedly Newt flapped his sleeves. One singed, one splinched. Theseus shook his head.

"I'm having a word with the tailor."

Jacob lost the rest of the conversation as a chirpy woman in a white uniform stooped in front of him. "Don't worry, we'll fix this right up," she said, trailing her wand down his broken elbow. Jumping as bone fragments pushed into place, Jacob squeaked and grabbed the offending limb.

"Now, that don't hurt as much as a surgeon and a cast, I'll bet," the witch said, chuckling sympathetically.

"How'd you do that?" Jacob exclaimed, roving his arm uncertainly. His fingers sparked with returning bloodflow, but there was no pain.

The witch laughed. "Hon, you look like you ain't never seen magic 'afore. Here, drink this 'afore you fall over." Flicking her wand, she took the silver cup that materialized and pressed it into Jacob's hand. "Ain't nothin' that will hurt you in there."

Jacob had tried Skele-grow earlier, and that was still plaguing his stomach. He figured Newt had a reason to be turning his nose up at the potion Theseus was pressing at him. But when said older brother grew impatient and held his little brother's nose until he was forced to open his mouth and swallow, Jacob took the hint.

He swallowed the cup's contents in three gagging gulps.

"See, that wasn't so bad!" the witch encouraged. "Sit here awhile, and if that don't settle right you just call for me."

To the contrary, Jacob felt unexpectedly warm, as though the bruises were slowly eking from his bones. No wonder Ol' Bill was angry with wizards, he mulled. Many a boy might have survived without amputation if such potions had only been on hand.

"You're not the only one to say so."

Whirling at the sweet voice, Jacob blushed as he met Queenie's compassionate eyes. She smiled, patting Tina's shoulder as a wizard handed the young witch back her wand, and hurried over to kneel beside Jacob.

"What you did to stop Grindelwald…." Tears sparking her eyes, Queenie snatched up Jacob's hand and squeezed it tightly. "You saved my sister. She's all I have, you know. It took far too long to convince the president that Chief Graves was telling the truth." Dipping her head, she breathed in shakily and bit her lip. When she had enough control to raise her head she whispered, "Thank you."

A different kind of warmth flooded Jacob's chest. For once he wasn't just the thick-headed No-Maj trailing along. He clasped Queenie's hand and gave a feeble shrug. "Anytime."

"We do give to the Muggles," Queenie reassured him. "It was a wizard who helped create penicillin. There's more we could show them, but things they can't understand scare them away. Even to people like us, humans are dangerous."

"Yeah," Jacob agreed, remembering how a simple muggle with a morphine bottle took out one of the more dangerous wizards. "I guess we are."

Queenie smiled. "You're a hero," she whispered. Daringly she leaned in and pecked his cheek before skittering back to her sister. Jacob raised a hand to his cheek, wondering if it was possible for contact to brand someone.

Once Queenie was distracted, Jacob found himself… curiously overlooked. Apparently an illegal No-Maj in a crowded wizarding hall wasn't quite as thrilling as each new creature which the aurors apparated upstairs for Theseus's inspection. (Theseus's inspection, because Jacob had the feeling that even if they were Newt's critters, MACUSA wasn't particularly inclined to give them back to the younger brother.)

Newt fussed over each in turn: shoving a blue, squabbling, fairy-like creature into Theseus's hands; inspecting the pink owl's wings before guiding it onto Queenie's shoulder; stroking Frank's beak and whispering a spell over the gash in the thunderbird's neck; tickling the underbelly of what Jacob swore was an ordinary hedgehog before smoothing bits of concrete and wood slivers out of its quills; digging a jar of silvery goop out of his tattered coat pocket to spread over an occamy's chipped beak; pestering a nurse to tend the broken wing of a literal, in-the-flesh Pegasus; gravely examining the smallest graphorn before returning the poor, limping beast to its parents (Jacob noted with a sinking heart that one of the young had not returned); shouting at everyone to "Stop moving, please!" when the erumpet began to huff; bandaging the snapped limbs of several weeping bowtruckles; and giving weak, apologetic smiles when several hideous, scorpion-like creatures nearly set fire to the carpeting.

"You realize that your brother is operating in illegal breeding and captivity of magical creatures," the President told Theseus with the coolness of a sheet of black ice. Invisible, uncompromising, and unquestionably lethal.

Theseus stuffed the blue fairy into his hat and squashed it under his coat. "Actually, he has orders. He is to protect and nurture the dwindling species across the world."

"Under whose authority?" the President retorted.

"Mine," Theseus said without qualm.

"Hardly a reliable source," the President answered with a thin, forced smile.

"I know a professor and three ministers in Great Britain who would agree with me," Theseus said. "You can argue your case with the Ministry of Magic once I return with my report."

A wriggling, prodding beak distracted Jacob from the chilling duel. He looked down and grinned, bundling the shivering niffler into his coat. "There you are. Always starting trouble, aren't you?"

"Have you got him?"

Jacob glanced up at Newt's insistent rasp and nodded as the blue wizard peered around his brother's back. A wan smile eased the tension lines in Newt's face. It didn't matter if some big brother was involved or the President of Magic was standing over him. Claude was still the wizard under the grime and dust and pain.

"Hate to give you back to him," Jacob admitted to the niffler as it curled into a ball inside his coat. Because that would mean it was all over. Newt would have his creatures back, his overprotective brother would sweep him back to wherever he was supposed to be, and Jacob would be left in his tiny apartment, just where he started. Alone, in the dreary, magic-less grime of New York's middle class.

Sighing, Jacob untucked the niffler's claws from his jacket and rolled the creature into Newt's hands. The young wizard cupped it gently, examining its scuffed fur and snuffling snout. "You'll be all right," he murmured.

Sensing he was no longer a required accessory to the commotion, Jacob wearily hauled himself to his feet. He watched as giant beasts appeared in the room one by one, trumpeting and howling at the aurors who handled them. Theseus rapped out orders over each creature's transportation and care. Jacob shook his head, marveling at how extraordinarily, mundanely the situation was being handled. If the New York police department had been involved, there would probably have been a great deal of "shoot on sight" and less negotiation over such hideous, lethal looking monsters.

It was no surprise that one of the pathetic life forms brought to the surface was a mangled, bloodied pulp of something that had once been human. Graves accompanied the body, waving off a young witch who was insistently trying to weave a green, sticky-looking spell around the gash in his temple.

"Percival Graves," the President greeted, no small amount of surprise expressed in her upraised eyebrow.

Looking fairly mollified, Graves gestured for the body to be brought forward. "I believe I've found the culprit behind the No-Maj disruptions."

Stepping forward, the President stood with such utter stillness that the only reaction Jacob could discern was the vague widening of her eyes. "Grindelwald himself," the President breathed out.

Jacob squinted at the trampled corpse before squeamishly averting his gaze. There was a slim shock of reddened white hair and scraps of uniform with protruding sticks of bone. Nothing could possibly be recognizable, any more than a handkerchief with unthreaded initials.

"That's a rum way to die," he muttered, pressing a hand over his mouth and turning away.

He stayed out of the way as Graves was forced to sit still while the healing witches fussed over him. Long-worded, grilling questions bombarded the dark-haired wizard from the President and her entourage. A blast-ended skrewt nearly set fire to Newt's hands before Theseus demanded another slew of wizards to control his brother's pets. All through the tumble, Jacob caught whispers of, "What will they do with the No-Maj?"

He brushed sweaty palms against his trousers and tried not to think on that too hard.

"Mister Kowalski."

Startled, Jacob stammered and bolted to his feet, giving an anxious, deferential nod to the president. "Ma'am."

"It appears that the Magical Congress owes you a debt of gratitude," the President said smoothly. "Your interference not only saved two of our own, but also helped eliminate one of the most dangerous wizards in the history of magic."

"Just... doing what seemed to be right," Jacob mumbled. It all seemed too glamorous; too ethereal. An unemployed, unmemorable No-Maj had earned the personal gratitude of the President of Magic. Sheepishly Jacob shot a hesitant grin at Newt.

The young Brit's eyes were troubled. "President Picquery," he began urgently.

"Naturally, you understand our quandary," the President said to Jacob. "Our very existence in the non-magical world is jeopardized by your awareness of this place."

"I... don't understand," Jacob said.

"Mister Kowalski, our safety is constructed on the oblivious nature of your kind. We are outnumbered and out-maneuvered by the destructive capabilities of ... Muggles," she said carefully, testing what appeared to be a new word. Inclining her head, she added, "As you have seen from the recent effects of your own wars, we are increasingly threatened by the No-Maj's advancement in science and weaponry."

"What's that got to do with me?" Jacob said with an uneasy chuckle. "I mean, you guys could help us now, right? You've got spells and potions and stuff – we wouldn't need any wars with those kinds of advancements? Right?"

He looked back at Newt for confirmation. He didn't like the fear in the kid's eyes.

"Right?" Jacob asked feebly.

"I'm afraid you don't understand," President Picquery said gently. "Peace has been attempted between the Magical and Non-Magical realms in the past. The greed and mistrust of your kind hounded us into near-extinction."

"My kind?" Jacob protested. "Wasn't it one of your wizards that nearly blew up an entire church?"

"You fail to understand your own history," President Picquery retorted coolly. "As soon as a No-Maj's community learns of the existence of magic, they extinguish it. Or did you learn nothing from witch trials of Salem?"

Scuffing his toe into the tile, Jacob dipped his head in acknowledgement. "But we could do better," he insisted. "We could - "

"And if you don't?" the President cut in. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but this is a chance we cannot take."

Newt lurched to his feet. "You're not going to – !"

Shoving his brother down, Theseus rose and fixed the President with a stalwart look. "Madam President, seeing as it was my brother that was involved, perhaps I should be the one to – "

"No, don't!" Newt protested, snatching his brother's arm. "Theseus, you can't! It's not his fault that – "

"Wait – what are you gonna do to me?" Jacob demanded, staring aghast at the ring of wizards surrounding him. He searched for Queenie, then Tina, but only received their pitying gazes as the president folded her hands.

"I'm sorry, Mister Kowalski," President Picquery said, "But we cannot allow you to leave with the memory of our existence."

"You – you're gonna kill me?" Jacob whispered.

"Merlin's grey beard, no," Graves interjected. His solemn eyes were kind, as though he was speaking to one of the Barebone children. "What the President is saying is that all memory of magic, and this place, must be removed from your mind."

It took a moment for the implication to sink in. "You mean I won't remember this," Jacob said raggedly. "Any of this. Even...."

He trailed off, noting Newt's clenched jaw and furious, rapid blinking.

"I won't remember any of this?" Jacob said faintly.

"I'm truly sorry," President Picquery said gently. "But we must protect our own."

"I...." Shuffling his foot, Jacob took one last, lingering sweep of the room: the magnificent animals, the glint of Queenie's golden curls, the colors and contraptions moving without technology, the blue of Newt's ragged coat. He wouldn't remember any of it. Not one spark of magic to cheer him in the dull gloom of a canning factory. Not one image of another, more glamorous world as he trudged back to his dingy apartment. He wouldn't even remember how and why Ol' Bill had been murdered.

Jacob swallowed past the hitch burning in his throat, telling himself that it didn't matter. That the loss of memory would be kinder than wishing for a more exciting life than New York had to offer him. Clearing his throat, he said with forced nonchalance, "Don't I ... get a chance to say goodbye?"

"If you wish," the President said.

"I will take care of it," Theseus volunteered. "It was my brother involved; I trust no one else to remove all traces of his memory." He looked down at his brother meaningfully, offering Newt a hand to stand up. The younger wizard slapped it away.

"I can stand," he mumbled with a glare.

Shambling to his feet, Newt limped forward, his eyes downcast and haunted like the day when Jacob found him lying helplessly on the rug. Funny, for all the kid's fire and independence, he was still so broken.

Suddenly Jacob knew he was doing the right thing. Nobody in the non-magical world deserved the chance to beat up another kid.

"Hey, it'll be fine," he told Newt, smiling for the kid's sake. "I've got me a place back there. Won't be missing much."

Furious hazel eyes assaulted him, burning through his lie. Biting his lip, Newt lurched forward and flung his good arm around Jacob's neck. "S'not fair!" he whispered. "You could run. I could apparate you now. They wouldn't find you in London."

"Whoah, Kid," Jacob murmured, patting the young wizard's back and trying not to imagine what it could be like, disappearing with the kid's suitcase, seeing the wonder of the unimaginable day after day, learning the endless borders of magic's infinite universe....

But such a day would never come. The suitcase was destroyed, and Newt's existence was compromised by people like Jacob. He would be selfish to run away with his memories.

"It wouldn't really work," Jacob sighed, grabbing a fist of that bright blue fabric, searing it into his mind for as long as it would last. "Besides, I've got that bakery in mind... Wouldn't really have time for magic."

"That's a stupid excuse," Newt hissed.

Forcing himself to let go, Jacob gently pushed the young Brit away. "Yeah, well..." He swallowed hard. "It's the way thing's gotta be."

"Theseus, you can't," Newt growled low as his brother stepped forward. Instinctively the younger brother shifted in front of his brother, shielding Jacob. "There has to be another way. I won't let you!"

Suddenly his eyes rolled up and he fell bonelessly, sinking into Graves' arms as the wizard lowered his wand. Compassionate dark eyes met Theseus's with mute apology. "Not here," Graves said quietly, nodding his head towards the doors.

Jacob heard Queenie's muffled sobs as Theseus nodded and took his arm. "This won't hurt," Theseus promised.

And then the sunlit walls vanished.