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Andy was mysterious at the best of times. She would often vanish midway through a meal, or be frustratingly uncontactable when Nile needed her permission or, annoyingly, her advice. When they lost Booker, Andy’s absences grew in frequency, but a late night argument between her and Joe had brought her back into the group. “We need you,” Joe had said. “She needs you.” Nile hadn’t been sure who she was, whether it was her or the memory of Quynh, but either way, they did need Andy, immortal or not. Ever since then, Andy had begun to rely a lot more on Nile for things. Whenever she had a hunch on a potential job from Copley, she’d ask Nile to come with her. Or instead, if she sent Nicky and Joe, she’d then implore Nile to come grocery shopping with her.
Because groceries like bandages and bandaids were things Andy needed to buy now. Also multivitamins; Nicky had suggested multivitamins.
“You know supermarkets better than the boys,” was Andy’s excuse, Nile being the most up to date in modern life, but Nile knew it was deeper than that. Since losing Booker, Andy had come to the realisation that if she hadn’t had Nile, she’d have been more alone than ever. Nicky and Joe were her family, but she’d have been a third wheel, their now-mortal boss loitering in the corner of their shared space. And so Nile was her companion, now.
But with Nile came a resurgent of memories.
Quynh.
It all came to a head one evening, several months after the group had moved to a new house in Austria. They’d bought the land in cash from a local family, desperately in need of the money. A week after the group had moved in, Joe had disappeared for three days. When he’d got back, Nicky had easily wormed it out of him that he had been into the city and helped set up the family in an affordable house in an affordable area, with better schooling and healthcare.
The group had been living, and working, there for months. They’d gone on two missions as a group, and a further four in pairs, all under the guide of Copley; he hadn’t broken his word, and had been finding them work and removing them from any paper trail. It was going good.
Until the night Joe brought home a whole mixture of Turkish and Middle Eastern food for dinner. He and Nicky had spent the best part of ten minutes throwing falafel balls at each other, with surprisingly poor aim. Not only were the falafel just too big to fit in anyone’s mouth, let alone an immortal, but the ‘catcher’ was making it more difficult, by dodging out of the way. Nile had joined Nicky’s team at one point, laughing at Joe’s melodramatic cry of the “blatant favouritism”.
By the time they’d exhausted most of the couple’s falafel, Nile realised Andy was gone. Andy was known to walk away from dinner early, but her entire plate was full. The only thing missing was the box of cronuts Nile had bought from a vendor that morning. Frowning, Nile handed Nicky her bowl of falafel balls and instructed him not to miss, for the good of their team, before excusing herself from the table. She grabbed her coat, and headed for the front door, sure that if Andy had gone anywhere, it would be out into the chilly autumn night. If Joe or Nicky thought it was strange, neither said anything, nor called after her. Perhaps in their hundreds of years with Andy, they had grown used to letting her wander off, in a way that a younger brother simply allowed an older sister to storm around and demand privacy. But that didn’t sit well with Nile. She didn’t have hundreds of years of complacency. If she’d been at home, and her real brother had stormed off into the night, Nile would’ve damn well followed him. And so follow Andy she did.
The minute she stepped outside, she saw her. Andy was stood at the top of the garden, at the cliff’s edge that overlooked the small town they’d planted themselves in. It wasn’t too cold out, but Nile was glad she’d brought her coat; it gave her somewhere to put her hands. Fists clenched in her coat’s pockets, she made her way up the garden path. Andy had her back to the house, but she would be able to hear Nile’s footsteps on the gravel. Nile made extra effort to make noise, not wanting to risk a fatal (though technically not fatal in the case of Nile-the-immortal) blow to the head for sneaking up on Andy. She stopped, a few feet behind Andy, unsure how to proceed.
In all her years of marine training, she’d been taught precisely three things when it came to interactions with people:
Politeness, and how to respect your elders and your superiors.
Conflict de-escalation, using simple techniques to bring someone down from a situation that could result in the loss of life.
Teamwork, and how to rely on others for support, and how to give your all in supporting others.
Nowhere in her extensive training, was there any advice on how to deal with a permanently angsty, centuries old ex-immortal, who was dealing with a loss larger than anything Nile could comprehend; her own loss of life.
“Don’t lurk.”
Nile jumped. “I wasn’t lurking.”
“You weren’t not lurking,” replied Andy.
With a huff, Nile continued up the path, coming to stop beside Andy. She was standing at the edge of the cliff, about as far as any mortal would dare go. Nile wondered if Andy hadn’t ‘run out of time’, if she’d have risked stepping further. Nile wondered how far she, herself, could go before falling to her un-death, but she didn’t want to rub any immortality in Andy’s face. Not when something was clearly on her mind.
“You don’t like Turkish food?” Asked Nile.
“I do,” replied Andy.
“Then why leave it?” Nile nodded back towards the house. “There’ll be none left with them two.”
“I was hoping you’d stay and guard it for me,” said Andy.
Nile rolled her eyes. She noticed Andy was holding the box of cronuts, but hadn’t touched them, all twelve still there. Nile knew it was more for comfort than for the desire to eat pastry. Andy, like Nile, needed something to do with her hands. ‘Fighter’s fidget,’ her mom had called it. Fingers always twitching, needing to hold something, to do something. Unable to stay still, especially when anxious. As much as Nile needed her hands in her pockets, Andy needed to hold that box of cronuts.
“Why did you follow me?” Asked Andy.
“I’ve, uh…” Nile scuffed her feet. “I’ve been talking to Joe.”
“About?”
“About you,” said Nile.
Andy raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing bad,” said Nile, quickly. “Just-… I still don’t get you sometimes.”
“What’s there to get?” Andy replied.
Nile frowned. “Joe’s worried about you,” she said.
Andy scoffed. “Idiot.”
“He is,” said Nile. We all are. “You’ve been different, lately. That’s what worries him.”
“Of course I’m different,” snapped Andy, “I’m-…” not immortal anymore. She didn’t have to say it, Nile practically felt the words reverberating in the air between them.
“I think he wants you to talk more,” said Nile.
“Talk more? About what?”
Nile shrugged, hands shifting in her pockets. “I dunno,” she said, thinking ‘this is it, this is the best chance you’ll get, Freeman’. “Like why you disappeared earlier.”
Andy sighed, and when Nile cast a quick glance at the Scythian she realised that maybe she’d overstepped. That was one thing about her mother that would forever stay with Nile; she’d always overstepped, and it seemed Nile had inherited her mother’s perchance for nosiness. But now that Nile was in the situation of the instigator, she realised that perhaps it hadn’t ever been nosiness. Perhaps it was just concern. Because Nile was concerned about Andy.
Thoughts of her mother made Nile smile.
But it was short lived.
“I never told her,” said Andy.
Nile looked up. She hadn’t expected Andy to continue. Nile knew that out of the group, she was Andy’s least favourite; until Booker had betrayed them that is. Even then, Nile wasn’t sure she’d hit number three position. Maybe three and a half. She wanted to ask who her was, but just as her lips were parting to let the words out, she saw a flash of iron, and dark, oppressive ocean closing in around her. Nile clenched her fists, feeling the sensation of drowning threaten to wash over her.
Quynh.
“Told her what?” Asked Nile. Andy didn’t answer.
There was a loud crash from behind them, and both women turned towards the house. Through the kitchen window, they could see Nicky, sprawled out on the tiled floor, as Joe, standing on the other side of the table, clutched his stomach and laughed. From the distance, Nile could only just make out her abandoned bowl of falafel; most of it was on the floor, a large majority clumped around Nicky’s head like a halo.
“If he’s broken another damn chair…” Andy muttered, and Nile looked up at the woman, expecting a frown. But there was a faint smile on Andy’s lips, as if this was something that happened a lot, Nicky and Joe breaking furniture. Nile quickly filled her thoughts with images of food and guns and flowers, not wanting to stray anywhere near the possible ways Joe and Nicky might have broken furniture in the past.
There was more laughter, and Nile glanced back to see Joe helping Nicky to his feet. Food forgotten, the two embraced, but Joe’s laughter caused Nicky to jab him, playfully, in the stomach.
“Oh that’s how it is, huh!” Nile heard Joe say, before the two were tackling each other to the floor, Nicky now the one laughing.
This time, when Nile turned to look back at Andy, there was a sadness there, almost a nostalgic melancholy. “You alright?” Nile asked, before she could stop and remind herself that asking Andromache the Scythian if she was ‘alright’ was possibly the stupidest thing she could have done; of course she wasn’t alright.
To her surprise, though, Andy replied. “It’s been a long time since I fought someone for fun.” She looked at Nile, for a second, before averting her eyes back over the cliff’s edge. “Until the plane.”
Nile nodded, remembering the way Andy had broken her arm, and practically grinned as it healed. “You owe me a rematch.”
“Do I?” Andy asked, eyebrow raised. “I think you have an unfair advantage now.”
Nile shrugged. “If you don’t think you can beat me, that’s fine.”
“Oh, I can beat you,” said Andy. “Only one person’s ever beaten me in a fight.”
Even without saying a name, Nile knew that instantly the conversation was back to Quynh. Something about the way Andy’s voice grew softer, the way her eyes swam with an uneasiness, told Nile this was about Quynh.
“Do you think about her a lot?” Asked Nile.
“It’s been a long time since I thought about her,” said Andy. “Since I actively thought about her. She’s just there.”
“Sorry,” said Nile.
Andy shook her head. “Don’t be. We need you, and with you comes the dreams and the memories.”
The memories. “Was that why you left today?” Asked Nile. “Something reminded you of her?” Since she’d joined this pseudo family of immortals, she’d learnt that being anywhere over a hundred years old meant you had a plethora of memories, some of which were often brought upon by unwanted similarities. She’d witnessed Joe have to excuse himself from a jovial debate, after one too many words took him back to a dark time in a previous century. And Nicky had once gone twenty hours sitting on the roof to avoid speaking to Andy after a conversation about food hit too close to home.
“The way they are,” said Andy, brief head nod telling Nile she meant Joe and Nicky. “Sometimes it’s… We were like that. But we weren’t.”
Nile merely raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to stay quiet. Andy didn’t share often. But this was one of those rare moments where she might.
Andy cleared her throat, hands clutching the box of cronuts almost too tightly. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I did her.” Her eyes glazed over, and Nile knew that Andy wasn’t talking to her anymore. Andy wasn’t even aware of Nile’s being there. Andy was just… talking. “I never told her that. The way they are with each other is… is a reminder that I failed her. Not only in death, but in not telling her. I hate to think-… I hate thinking that she died, over and over again, not knowing.”
A strange pain came over Nile, and her vision went back to that iron box, and the ocean. There was a pain there that was unending, but there was something else beyond it. Something that felt like determination, something that made Nile feel hope.
“She knew,” said Nile.
Andy scoffed. “I doubt that.”
“She knew, Andy,” said Nile, more forcefully. “I felt it.”
A breath left Andy’s lips, as if she’d been holding it for years, waiting for reassurance. That was something Nile had come to learn about Andy; despite her being the leader of the boys, she’d been holding a pain deep within her, a pain for Quynh, and for their other fallen friend. Andy had been blaming herself, for something that was beyond her control. She had been an immortal, not a superhero. And for a second, Nile thought Andy might respond, that they might continue to have this conversation like adults.
But Andy scoffed again, and reached for a pastry. Conversation over. However, the pastry didn’t seem to settle right with Andy, as she winced.
Nile raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like cronuts?”
“There are better pastries,” said Andy.
“Like what?” Asked Nile.
“Baklava, for starters.”
Nile raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Andy’s entire posture changed. Where before she was every bit the warrior, waiting, formal and ready, now she was aghast. “You’ve never-“ She shook her head, eyes wide. “You’ve never had baklava?!”
Nile shrugged. “Should I have?”
“Should I-… Hell, that needs to change.”
And just like that, things were back to normal; or at least, as normal as Nile was used to. Andy was ranting about baklava, and began striding towards the house, gesturing for Nile to follow, and she did. As they re-entered the home, Andy still ranting about baklava, Nicky dropped any sense of sparing with Joe and proceeded to join in the conversation, countering that while baklava was a brilliant pastry it had nothing on cannoli. Which sparked an entire argument about pastries, leaving Nile to look to Joe for help.
“Did you want to try?” He asked, holding out a tupperware box filled with rectangular cut pieces of flakey pastry. Nile shrugged; she may as well know what they were bickering about.