Chapter Text
She cupped Yusuf’s face with both hands, made him look at her. “The bad men are here, Yusuf. Hide. Now.”
Andy didn’t wait to watch him go, but listened with half an ear as he scrambled into the bathroom, back into the crawlspace behind the cabinet she had showed him their second day here. “Good boy,” she murmured, pulling one of her boot knives free, needing something to hold her over- to hold onto- until she got a gun or her labrys. She was actually looking forward to using the axe, she’d kept it locked away for the most part since they acquired Yusuf. At least it was something to look forward to.
But that was the last of her good luck and good faith, apparently. She only made it into the living room a few seconds before the strike team did. “Nicky,” she yelled out as the windows were smashed and the door was kicked in. He was already moving, tossing her labrys at her and kicking a case across the floor in her direction at the same time. She stopped the case with her foot, caught the axe on a spin to take out the first wave of men approaching, then landed in a crouch to open the case with her free hand, yanking one of its guns free.
She knew Nicky was fighting somewhere near the front door still, she could hear the mix of a Glock and a sword cutting through the air, could hear the contact bullets and blade made, so she pivoted towards the back, taking on the men (half a dozen, then eight, then twelve- how many had been pulled together for this strike?) that were pouring in from that direction. Spinning, swiping with the labrys, firing the gun until the ammo ran out. And no time to reach for a reload, between the constant stream of attackers and her having to be so much more careful than she use to be not to get hit.
She fucking hated being mortal sometimes.
This is what she’d meant when she said she’d have to retire. She was already slower than she should be. Fractions of a second, but fractions that would add up at some point to a mission failing. Somebody getting hurt. Somebody innocent getting killed. Her getting killed.
She shifted back to one side, twisting out of the way of a bullet (case in motherfucking point, Andromache) instead of pressing forward like she wanted to, and got knocked to the ground by a tackle coming from the other direction. “Fuck,” she yelled out involuntarily, kicking the guy away, but unable to fend off the three that took his place. “Fuck- fuck you! What-”
“Stand down,” one of the men ordered, his voice almost robotic through his helmet.
Yeah, she was going to go ahead and ignore that. She needed the attention on her, just a few minutes more, just so they wouldn’t-
“Stand down or we shoot her,” the voice commanded again. He hadn’t been talking to her at all, he’d been talking to Nicky. Who was surrounded by bodies, both dead and alive, still fighting. He whirled around at that though, and even in the seconds Andy decided she’d rather get shot than have them use her against Nicky, or have them find Yusuf, it was just enough time for Nicky to see her on the floor and hesitate.
Which was enough time for them to take him down too, the butt of a rifle slamming his face to the floor. Weapons kicked away carelessly. He was dragged over to Andy, both of them brought to their knees in front of the team leader. Both of them bleeding and glaring, as the man moved over to their table, obnoxiously casual even in tac gear and a visored helmet.
He picked up the flash drive still sitting by Booker’s laptop, waved it at them. “They put tracking tech in most of the lab’s hardware a few months ago. In case of corporate espionage, we were told.” The was a smirk in his voice, and Andy wanted to chop his whole fucking head off. “Or any thieving, really.”
“You want it? Take it,” Andy snarled. “We couldn’t make any sense of it anyway. No buyers. Just take it and go.” Maybe she could play it that way- like they'd only been there the second time and stolen a drive. They had nothing to do with-
“Oh we will,” the man pocketed the drive, then came to stand over them. “Just as soon as we get that other thing you stole from us.” And then he looked over their shoulders.
Nicky cursed in a few different languages, ferocious, vicious, pulling at the men holding him in place, even as Andy tried to turn, tried to-
There was a muffled sound, a yelp, then crying, behind them. “No. No. Don’t you fucking dare-” she tried fighting them off too, as another man came out from the back, holding Yusuf tight with both arms as he struggled. Nicky immediately switched languages again, calling out to him softly as Yusuf stared back at them through his tears and tried to reach for them. All but begging them to help him, keep him safe. Like they had been every day he'd known them. Not understanding why they weren't doing that now. They tried, they tried, and Andy refused to think about the last time and last person she'd struggled like this for, but they could only get a few words out to him before a tranq dispenser was placed against Yusuf’s arm and the trigger pulled. “You motherfuckers-”
They were both fighting as Yusuf was carried out- carried away from them, right in front of them- and Andy didn’t give a shit about any bruises or strain this would leave her with.
The fucker in charge stood there and waited as half the men left, forced her and Nicky to hear Yusuf’s crying and calling for them go quiet, to hear as a van’s doors opened and closed, as the engine turned over. As the retrieval team, with Yusuf, sped away. Hearing her own heart hammering so loud in her chest it started to sound like war drums.
He made them sit there for awhile longer, watched them struggle some more without saying a word, and then he moved, drawing his gun back out and swinging it between the two of them. “We’re not taking him back to the same place, so you know. Completely different location, extra security. And so much more medical equipment.” She heard Nicky’s shoulder pop out of its socket, then pop back in, as he jolted and fought even more desperately.
Andy wasn’t sure it was possible to glare any harder than she was. She was getting so many new wrinkles to her skin lately. And she earned every goddamn one around her eyes right now. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die,” she said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “Like I haven’t enjoyed in a very. Long. While.”
“Really?” he took a step closer to her. “We’ve got you outnumbered and outgunned, lady. And your wounds don’t seem to close up like some other people’s. So what exactly do you think you’re going to-”
The shots rang out in quick succession, hitting him square in the forehead, through his stupid fucking visor. The men holding her in place went down next, Nicky’s too. They both turned and rolled, grabbed the nearest dropped weapon, started shooting as Nile and Booker each came in from a doorway, taking out the rest of the men.
Everything was finally quiet, still, for a few seconds, before Nile dropped her gun, running for the bathroom. “Yusuf-!”
“No, Nile,” Andy sucked in a few extra breaths, winced, let Booker help her up to her feet. “They got him. They already got him.”
Nile stopped halfway, turned and punched the wall, then took a few deep breaths herself. “Then let’s go. They have, what, a fifteen minute head start? We need to-”
“There’s a secondary location,” Nicky said quietly, kneeling down to search the bodies, very much not looking at the rest of them.
Booker looked around wildly for a moment, before his eyes landed on one of the downed men. Who was still breathing, trying to slip away. Booker knocked him back to the floor. “Where are they going?”
“I won’t-”
Booker pressed his boot into the man’s shoulder, directly over a gunshot wound, ignored the man’s choked yell. “Where?”
“I can’t just-”
He pressed down harder, added the barrel of his gun to the man’s throat. “Tell me where they’re taking the kid, or I promise you I’ll let you live just long enough to beg me for death.”
“No-”
Another gunshot cut him off, the man slumping to the side, dead. Andy just watched as Nicky lowered his gun. “The leader had a GPS device.” He sheathed his sword, grabbed a few more guns to add to a holster already strapped across his chest. “Call Copley.” He tossed Andy the keys to the Humvee. “We’ll make the plan in the car.”
Nobody questioned, nobody looked to Andy for confirmation. Nobody need to. She was already out the door on his heels anyway. Fuck strike teams. They were better. And out for blood.
***
Despite what some literary clichés would have had him believe, the next twenty-seven hours didn’t pass in a blur for Nicky. He wasn’t in a fog, or detached, or stony and silent waiting for Andy to point him at a target. No, he was very much there, where Yusuf wasn’t. Very much aware of every tick-tocking second slipping away, every second Yusuf was not with them.
He stuck close to Nile for the most part, just as he had at the beginning of this mess. Or maybe she was sticking close to him. Putting just as much effort into being there for Nicky as she had been in blaming herself for not being there when Yusuf was taken, and somehow still- or yet again- for getting killed and coming back in front of the strike team during that first recon. He understood, of course. He could relate. Painfully. He maybe needed her a little bit right now for that reason, like she needed him.
Andy and Booker had no such time for guilt. They were vengeance and logic in equal measure, planning the op via speakerphone with Copley as they took turns- one driving, the other cleaning weapons over a towel spread on their lap in the passenger seat. Nile and Nicky inventoried the rest of the supplies- food, medical, the stuffed dog Nile had grabbed at the last second just in case- all the while keeping an eye on the little blinking dot on the GPS, calling out directions as it moved, waiting for it to settle, waiting for them to get close enough for it to fix on one location.
It took twenty-seven hours.
And now they were all flat on their stomachs on the top of an incline, studying the lab. It was a fortress, walled and barbed wired in. There were barracks on one end, which meant the dead bastard back at the house had been telling the truth- a lot more security, enough that they needed to be housed. Nicky felt his jaw clench so tightly the pain of it lanced past his teeth and through his ears.
“And you’re sure,” Book was quietly, under his breath, lips barely moving, “that we shouldn’t call her? We’re already down one, we could use another-”
Andy gripped the binoculars tighter, but otherwise didn’t react. “I’m sure. She’s not ready for missions yet. And I don’t think she’s stable enough to be trusted around a child.” She glanced at Nicky for a fraction of a second, just long enough for him to nod his agreement, then back to the fortress. “She wouldn't want to come back until we're all sure. We’ve got this. Nile and Nicky, make your way to the lab. Getting Yusuf out of that building is your only job. Booker and I will plant some distractions, find the main hub, and wipe this place the fuck out.” They had a new flash drive, one specially made by Copley with enough viruses to get rid of all their data, and Booker had enough C4 to flatten half the compound.
There was a fire exit on the northeast corner. That’s where Nile and Nicky were set to enter. Nicky’s focus was still razor-sharp, still very present, and he put all of his sight on that. Not exactly tunnel vision, but more mission mode than he'd been in a long while.
And he would have started moving but for Andy stopping him at the last second, grabbing him by the back of the neck. He closed his eyes for it, going still once again, and leaned into the contact. “We’ll get him. He’ll be okay,” she murmured, just for him. Nicky blew out a half-steady breath through his nose, nodding again, offering a smile that was probably as weak as hers, as the group split. Reassurances in the last few days had gone from ‘We’ll get Joe back’ to ‘We’ll get Yusuf back,’ and he wasn’t sure what to make of the change.
He and Nile scaled the wall and got to their entry point in a well-rehearsed formation, silent and undetectable. He kept watch on her six while she got them in, using a combination of Copley’s faked key card and her own growing skill at picking locks. “In,” she muttered a few seconds later, and Nicky backed up into the doorway after her, not turning until the door was firmly- quietly- shut behind them. And then stopped.
Something was wrong.
“Definitely wrong,” Nile said, as thought she’d heard him. The regular lights for the building were off- too soon to have been Andy and Booker’s work- and the fire alarm lights were flashing in the stairwell next to them even though no siren or bell could be heard.
“Somebody triggered an alert,” he guessed as they rounded the first corner. He couldn’t see or hear anyone. No security, no scientists, no four-year-old child. No one.
“How did they know we were here?” Nile asked, readjusting her grip on her rifle.
Nicky didn’t answer. But did the same with his own.
They spun around the next corner, and Nicky- for the first time in maybe four hundred years- stumbled on his own feet. It was a bloodbath. Four, five, six men that Nicky could see. All of them cut down. One literally, though he couldn’t tell with what. The rest shot, and he could see one of the men was missing his gun.
“Jesus,” Nile breathed out. “Someone else got here first? Competition? Or a double-cross?”
“Could be all of the above for all we know,” Nicky grunted out, taking whatever ammo left that he could find. “We need to find Yusuf before whatever did this does.”
That brought her back to the mission, and she deftly caught the reloads he tossed her way. “Lab is supposed to be up one floor. Closest stairs should be up ahead like thirty yards.”
“I’ll take point,” he headed that direction, eyeing the bodies one more time as he stepped over them, trying to figure out just what- “It’s a scalpel.”
“What is?”
“The one that isn’t shot. Wounds are from a scalpel.”
“Shit,” Nile’s voice went tight, but she didn’t say any more. She didn’t say the obvious- a scalpel probably came from a lab. Like where Yusuf was most likely being held.
Another corner, another two bodies. But this time a slight blood trail, and it led in the same direction they were going. There was the sound of a struggle up ahead, a fight, a yell cut off by a gunshot. “Nile.”
“Yep.” She pulled her second gun free, held both, as he pulled his sword free with his left hand. They made the next turn together.
And it was another bloodbath, but ongoing this time. A few men were down, signs of a flash grenade having gone off, but two figures were still grappling with each other on the other side of the smoke, barely lit by the neon red exit sign behind them. Too smoky to make out specifics, but Nicky kept his gun up, trained, ready. Ready for some sign that-
The smoke cleared for a moment, just long enough for Nicky to see a man in body armor get a shot in at the other, hitting him in the side, shirt immediately torn and bloody from the bullet. And that moment clear of smoke allowed Nicky to see it was a medical scrubs top, and the wound wasn’t as bloody as it could have been. Should have been, for any mortal body.
He yelled something, he wasn’t even sure what, he wasn’t even sure the language, but with his gun already raised all he had to do was pull the trigger and the man in body armor went down in a spray of blood against the wall. The second man, breathing hard, also fell back against the wall, propping himself up and turning in their direction. A scalpel held up defensively.
Nicky was already running through the smoke, leaving a startled Nile behind. “Joe!”
Joe fumbled with the scalpel, letting it drop from his shaking hands. “Nicky...?”
He vaulted over that last dead man and pulled Joe- fully formed, fully adult- into his arms. “Fuck,” he gasped out, uncaring that his sword and gun clattered to the ground. “You- are you, you’re-?” he ran his hands up and around Joe’s shoulders, arms, his torso, taking in each and every splash of blood, every disappeared wound (he was healing, he was himself, thank God).
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Joe wasn’t quite doing the same, just holding onto Nicky’s face with both hands, staring at him almost wondrously. “I’m-”
“JoeohmyGod,” Nile made it through, holstering her guns. She grabbed at whatever spot she could find not already being manhandled by Nicky. “You’re you again, right?”
He nodded, breathless, gazing back and forth between the two like he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing them. “It’s all... fuzzy,” he waved a hand at his head. “Everything hurts, feels like every bone in my body broke and re-healed at the same time, and- and I don’t...” he paused to catch his breath, grabbed at the straps of Nicky’s vest with his fingertips just to hold onto him. “Did that really... happen?”
Nile laughed, a short, hysterical, everything, laugh. “Yeah. It did. Jesus.” She glanced back at the bodies Joe had left in his wake. “I feel like this is ‘mission accomplished’ and we can get the fuck out of here now. Path cleared, yay team. Nicky?”
Nicky was having a hard time responding, still staring at Joe, still wanting to double check that every piece of him was healthy and whole, but he shook himself free as the building suddenly rocked from an explosion. Booker's C4. Mission mode. Right. “Let’s get out and get to the checkpoint. No reason to stay in here a minute longer.” He brushed a hand along both of Joe's as he reluctantly let go of Nicky's vest. “How fast are you able to move?”
Joe shook his head, gratefully accepting one of Nile’s guns, checking the ammo, reloading, checking the sight. “Won’t know until I try." Another breath. "Race you?”
He should scold him for that, he really should, but he smiled instead, picking his sword and gun back up off the ground. “Nile, take point. I’ll hold onto the bounty.”
Nile and Joe both grinned, at each other and at him. “Objectifying me in my hour of need,” Joe sighed dramatically, but stuck close to Nicky as they started to move out. He was wobbly to be sure, and Nicky kept one hand out and light against his back in case he needed it, but he managed to keep up with Nile’s pace as they made their way out the exit and back up the incline past the walls and barbed wire.
“Oh thank fuck,” Andy visibly deflated upon seeing them, bracing herself against the side of the Humvee. She reached out and clasped the back of Joe’s neck, just like she’d done with Nicky before, and brought their foreheads together. “Fuck. You good?”
“Yeah, Boss,” Joe leaned up and kissed her cheek softly, then grinned. “Why? Don’t I look good?”
Andy smirked but took her time pulling away, wiping blood off his face with her thumb, and shoved him towards the back. “I think I liked you better when you were too shy to talk to us.”
“Too soon, Andy,” Nile was smiling too as she grabbed the passenger seat, taking advantage of claiming shotgun while everyone else was still standing around staring at Joe. “Way too soon.”
Joe laughed, his eyes bright and almost giddy, euphoric with relief, but he still needed Nicky’s help to climb into the backseat, his bones and muscles sore and still recovering from... from re-growing. Nicky climbed in after him, then decidedly busied himself with storing his gun and connecting his seat belt, allowing Joe time to turn to his other side, to Booker.
And therefore Nicky didn’t have to give them any unwanted attention when Joe put his arms around Booker and hugged him tightly, pressing his face into Booker’s shoulder. Or when Booker, after the smallest of hesitations, hugged him back, his eyes closing in relief.
“I’m sorry,” Joe whispered so quiet Nicky could barely hear, probably too quiet for the women up front. “I’m sorry. If- if it was... if I was-”
“You weren’t,” Booker cut him off. He patted his back a few times, cleared his throat, pulled away. “You weren’t, Joe. It was," cleared his throat again. "It was good.”
Joe looked up at him, searching for something, and Booker was just barely able to maintain eye contact long enough for Joe to find whatever it was, smile almost shyly, and then take the attention off him. He turned back to Nicky instead, lifted Nicky’s arm and pulled at him so he was almost draped over Joe, like Nicky was a coat he was attempting to try on. Nicky let him, welcomed it, pressed in even more. “How much rest will you need?” he asked, burying his face in Joe’s hair, inhaling the scent that had been missing from his life for too long.
“Day or two,” Joe guessed, his voice muffled with an involuntary yawn. “Just need all my insides to settle. Do we need to bug out? I can sleep in the car.”
“That’s not real rest,” Nicky countered, already looking up to meet Andy’s eyes through the rearview mirror. “Where do we-”
“I’ve got another place not so far. Four hour drive, this time of night,” she said. Already heading in that direction.
Nile pulled out her phone. “I’ll get some groceries delivered. Gimme the address.”
Nicky went back to Joe, tracing the bullet hole in his shirt. “How long have you been... you, again?”
Joe was quiet for a few seconds. “A few hours, I think. Maybe less? It was hard to track the time at first. There were two- no, three- injections and then,” he waved a tired hand at himself. “Presto.” He sighed, turned to face forward in the seat, but still leaning heavily into Nicky. “If I never hear another bone cracking and resetting for a hundred years, it’ll be too soon. Can you all promise me? No broken bones for at least a hundred years?”
Booker snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes, and Nile immediately launched into the story of Andy breaking her arm the first day they met, and Nicky… Nicky just let himself drift a little, for the first time in days, close his eyes, run his fingers through Joe’s hair, hear Joe breathe his deep, deep breaths around the slight tremors he wasn't as good at hiding, and feel okay for awhile.
“So I gotta ask,” he could sense Nile turn around to face them, breaking the silence after about an hour. “Do you remember anything? From when you were Yusuf?”
He felt Joe go very still- not tense, not upset, just thinking. “Some? Feelings, some vague ideas. Flashes of things. Chocolate. Playing in the garden. You made up stories from the Curatola book.”
He opened his eyes because he knew that would make Nile grin, and he wanted to see that after so many days of her wracked with guilt. And there it was, the smile that was maybe second only to his husband’s as far as pure loveliness and love. Nicky smiled himself, leaned his head down to rest against Joe’s.
“Anything else?” Nile asked, completely fascinated.
He could feel Joe grow bashful again, but still tempered in playfulness. This was what Yusuf was growing up to be. “Yes, but I don’t want to embarrass Booker by saying nice things about him.”
“Merde,” Booker groaned, rested his own head against the window, as far from the rest of them as he could get.
“You were very well-behaved for him, Joe,” Andy said, almost offhand, so innocent and thoughtful.
“Don’t you start-”
“More than you are as an adult, actually,” she continued as though Booker hadn’t spoken.
He groaned again. “Next time one of us is a toddler and needs to be rescued, we’re taking two cars. I’m driving myself.”
Nicky let the others laugh and continue teasing. He just stayed with Joe. Touched him, held him close, watched him as he finally stopped shaking and relaxed. And allowed himself do the same.
***
He missed Arwa.
And what a guilt-inducing trail of thoughts that led him down. Joe hadn’t thought of her- not this vividly, this longingly- in centuries. She was always a part of him in many ways- the way he brewed his tea, the way he tended towards bright colors and soft fabrics, the way he loved Nicky with all his heart- but the real, tangible, defined shape of her... When exactly had that left him? When had he let it leave?
There was a hole in his gut cut out in her shape now, and he missed her so much he could feel every centimeter of it.
Joe was sure this was... well, natural was maybe not the right term. Life hadn't been 'natural' since the eleventh century. But maybe understandable, yes, after everything that had happened. (But acknowledging that didn’t make it go away, did it?) He sat with the others, all of them in a sort of exhausted, well-fed pile in the living room of this new house at the end of this unbearably long week, finally back with his family the way he wanted to be, and all of a sudden he could see her.
He saw himself running into her kitchen after playing out by Nasr’s stall at the market, Arwa and Yosra cooking and laughing together. Yosra was already in the midst of turning and reaching for him with a cloth to wipe the ever-present smudges of dirt from his face, shaking her head, always full of fond disapproval and with a lecture at the ready.
And Arwa was always right behind her ready to sneak him a treat when Yosra wasn’t looking. Always with that smile on her face, both encouraging and knowing, the crinkles around her eyes. Always so happy to see him, to talk and laugh with him, sing with him, draw with him, teaching him where to find the joy in...
It was like seeing something in technicolor for the first time after nothing but black-and-white, so real and bright an image, after many, many years had sanded away the defined lines of it. And it burned so sharp, that hole in his gut, that he almost started choking. Hid it well enough, but Nicky was still the one to catch it, of course. Without saying anything he wrapped an arm around Joe’s waist and pulled him in closer.
Joe let himself be pulled, turned and rested his head against Nicky’s chest, let the feeling of safety, solidity, this family, permeate and surround him... and then let himself grieve. A part of him had just seen his sisters and Nasr days ago and expected to see them again any minute now. The rest of him knew he wouldn’t. The rest of him remembered how they died.
He supposed he could have waited until he and Nicky went to bed, or excused himself and hid in the bathroom for awhile, but the thought of pushing it away, hiding it, fighting it, as though these feelings were something to be ashamed of... it just wasn’t in his nature. They fought enough things in this life as it was. He wasn’t about to add extra weight to his shoulders, to his mind. He never had. No, it was healthier for him to experience his emotions as they came, let them flow through, and let them go.
And so he did, letting his tears fall mostly silent, knowing he was getting Nicky’s shirt damp and knowing Nicky didn’t care. Joe thought about Arwa, about how his family then came to the house that day and saved him, and how his family now- Booker, Andy, Nile- took such care of him. How that feeling was always something to be treasured. Always. It was always worth getting overwhelmed with. Because the absence of it... that emptiness was its own kind of death.
Nicky kissed the top of his head and, almost as silent, whispered, “You were so good, Joe. You have to know that. So easy to care for. She would’ve been so proud of you.”
Joe shook his head, clumsily wiped at his face. “There’s this... under my skin. This feeling. Like I’m supposed to see her.” In a whisper of his own, “I want to see her so badly. Talk to her. Show her I turned out okay. I want her to be here.”
Nicky lifted his chin up slightly, pressed their foreheads together. “She was, in a way. All those times you’ve described her to me, I swear this was the first time I really saw her. I saw her in you.”
Joe blinked heavily through the last of his tears, letting it be replaced in his heart by Nile stretching her feet out to tangle with his on the floor, Booker sliding off the sofa to sit close on his other side, Andy pulling her chair closer to watch over all of them. And Nicky, Nicky who was never not there, who was never not an endless marvel to Joe.
“Have you ever drawn her?” Nile asked.
Joe turned to her, startled. “I...” he stopped. Tried to remember the last time he had, the last time he’d been able to picture her well enough to do it (her) justice. “Not for a long while, no.”
She smiled. “Maybe you should.” She nudged his foot with hers. “I’d like to see what she looks like.”
And he stupidly wanted to cry again, at her use of present tense instead of past. Like she knew he was half-drowning somewhere between the two tenses right now and needed a push in one direction or the other. “...You would?” he asked tentatively, squinting over at her a little.
Something shifted on her face, an expression of hers he hadn’t catalogued before, and he realized he must have done something to remind her of his younger self. She shook herself out of it quickly, and the smile on her face was eager, genuine. “Of course.” Then it turned playful, and he could feel his own expression wanting to mirror it. “In my head, she looks kinda like Andy, but actually nice.”
“Asshole,” Andy groaned from her chair, leaning back now that the air wasn’t quite so heavy around them. “Why do we keep you around?”
“Brains and beauty,” she shot back. “You?”
“Asshole.”
Joe basked in the warmth and beauty of it. Sure, yes, it was a particular and specific warmth and beauty to them, but it was never not there and never not theirs. “No,” he joined in, feeling the smile on his face come a bit more naturally, a bit more easily. “Andy is much more my other sister. Yosra. Stern and strong, a very good disapproving glare.” Between all of them, Yosra had been the one to really experience the loss of their mother. She’d been the one to say enough was enough and leave their father's house. Always guided by something sure. Always ready to twist his ear for his silly flights of fancy and bring him back to earth, pushing him to be able to take care of himself just in case. “Arwa was...” he trailed off with another head shake. Arwa had always been different, in his eyes.
Nicky squeezed his hand gently, so Joe picked it up and kissed it just the same, gentle for gentle. “She was special,” he answered for Joe, his voice was still quiet, as though the others wouldn’t be able to (wouldn’t need to) hear.
Joe kissed his hand again, leaned into the comfort Nicky knew he needed. Arwa was the reason he'd been so scared of Nicky in the beginning, and so in love with him after that. Without ever knowing it, she'd taught him how to be the person for Nicky. Joe blinked again, the weight of too many thoughts and too many memories, making it feel like his head might start to topple right off his neck. “I’m... I’m tired. Would it be alright with you to go to lie down now?”
Nicky’s laugh rumbled through his chest and into Joe's. “My love, you’ve been going to bed at seven-thirty every night for the past week. I think I can manage.”
Andy was the one to get up, pull them both to their feet. “Get some sleep, get your bones settled,” she smiled, a little with her mouth and a lot with her eyes. “We’ll wake you if Copley calls.” Copley was running a sample of grown-again-Joe’s blood against the research and data they’d stolen, trying to make sure he was fully himself again, fully cured. “Otherwise, take the time, okay?” She pressed her hand to Joe’s chest, over his heart, and left it there for a few seconds. “Take your time.”
And so he had to make the rounds first, had to hug Andy (reading to him, teaching him how to hide and protect himself, picking him up and throwing him over her shoulder until he laughed), and then Nile (sheets and sheets of paper and colored pencils, her soft smile offering him chocolate, scooping him up into hugs whenever he ran within arm’s reach), and then Booker (looking at him so warmly and so pained at the same time, keeping soap out of his eyes in the bath, encouraging him to play- just play, just have fun). And tried his best to keep his smile to a normal (no, not normal, but understandable) size as they each hugged him back.
And then the fatigue started to catch up again, and he leaned heavily-happily into Nicky (the first person he saw in the mornings, the last at night, the softest voice and safest place and all the love he packed into every look) as they headed for their room, for the bed. For the nice, soft, just-big-enough-for-two bed.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to wake me if Copley calls in the next eight hours,” he spoke into the pillow he had planted his face into. “Maybe don’t even try.”
Nicky laughed quietly again, perched next to him on the mattress. “I should at least try. What if you suffocate into that pillow?”
His tired brain tried to work out the correct response. “Nope.” Good one, Yusuf.
Another laugh. And then warmth pressed against his side, his back, from head to toe. Nicky draped himself over him, kissed his neck. “I’m very... very glad. That you’re back. With me.”
Joe did move then, turning onto his side to face Nicky, smile as comforting as he could at the suddenly serious tone. “I am too. I wasn’t- I wasn’t anywhere, I wasn’t gone but I wasn’t here. But I know I missed you.” He was already pulling even as Nicky pressed in, and was content to cling to him, let himself drift and sink into the mattress and against his husband. “I missed you.”
“I know,” Nicky’s voice was soft and soothing, and Joe had the tiniest bit of a flash, of that voice getting him out from behind a table, the first kind thing he’d heard after waking up in that lab. “We missed you too.” A huff of a laugh Joe could feel against his neck. “I may even keep the dog.”
“Dog?” He was going a little fuzzy around the edges, tired and happy and safe, but still aware enough for another flash- floppy ears and soft fur. “Oh. It’s- you have it still? Here?”
Both of Nicky’s hands slipped under his shirt, traced up and down his spine. “Nile packed it when we left the last house. In case you- we thought you'd still be young when we found you.”
“You want to keep it?” Joe smiled even as he closed his eyes, the vibrations of Nicky’s voice helping to lull him down even more.
“At one of our houses, maybe. Yes. For the memories. The good ones.”
He hummed thoughtfully, and somehow his fingers were already tangled in the hem of Nicky’s shirt. Not tightly, but just enough to hold on. As he always would. “Are you going to miss having him around?”
He could feel Nicky’s confused frown. “The dog?”
“Me,” he clarified. “Little me. Yusuf me.”
“Hmm,” Nicky’s turn to hum, contemplating, even as he burrowed in to press a few kisses to Joe’s neck, rest his forehead there against his shoulder. “In some ways. I liked taking care of you. No, no-” he tapped his fingers, anticipating Joe’s response of ‘you always take care of me.’ “This was different. I liked that, I’ll miss that. But I would’ve never gotten over losing you. I’ll miss him fondly, but you? Missing you is agonizing.”
And really, how could Joe not kiss him after that? Maybe not as fiercely as he would have liked, or for as long as he would have liked (forever and ever), but sleep be damned if it meant ignoring Nicky’s lips on his. Sleep be damned, death be damned, anything from the outside world. He was damned if he didn’t have Nicolò.
Nicky leaned up then, as if he’d heard Joe’s thoughts once again, and removed one hand from his back in order to brush out the tangles of his hair. “Sleep now, Joe, I know you need it. Sleep, and tomorrow we’ll work out anything we need to work out.”
It was a solid plan, of course, Nicky’s always were. And yet. “Don’t be worried,” he said, firmly as he could, even as the pull to go under got stronger. “Don’t be worried.”
“Worried?” There was a smile in Nicky’s voice, and a rueful one at that- they never could hide anything from each other. “Why would I be worried?”
“Because I am too,” he mumbled, pulling their bodies impossibly closer, overlapped and interlocking. “But it’s okay. I’ll still be here when we wake up. Still be me.” His forehead dropped to rest against some part of Nicky, maybe his chest, maybe his shoulder, or maybe his forehead- that would be nice and symmetrical. “We’ll be us.”
Nicky’s inhale was quick, in that way that meant Joe had hit the mark, but the exhale was slow and soft. Accepting. Loving. “We’ll always be us, my love.” Inhale, exhale. "Always.”
They were breathing in time with each other, and there was no deeper, simpler thing that Joe loved more than that. He tilted his chin just enough to kiss whatever part of Nicky he was resting against. A promise, an appreciation, love.
Inhale, exhale.
Always.