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Nicky had been facing Andy when Nile's voice comes through their comms. Joe had been taken, Nile had been shot and was unable to assist him while she waited for the wound to heal. Nicky hadn’t even bothered to wait for Andy to speak, the only thought going through his head was of Joe. His Joe, taken again and this time he was not there.
He turns on his heel, backhanding the last man that stood between him and the staircase and takes off. He jumps down the stairs, long legs bounding down the flights as he scans for the exit that will lead him to his target.
There is a rush of movement to his left and on instinct he pivots, driving the butt of his gun into the woman’s temple. She reels back in pain, opening the line for Nicky to shoot the second. The first only has enough time to wipe the gash on her cheek before Nicky breaks her neck. He snatches up the discarded gun, tucking his own back into its holster on his thigh. He offhandedly registers the sound of Nile and Andy talking on the comms, but the words are dismissed before he can even parse their meaning.
He ducks his head out, checking for movement, then quickly moves down the hallway. He makes his way down as quickly as he can, stopping to check open doorways. the comm in his ear makes a sharp sound and he flinches, eyes closing in pain as he shakes his head. He looks up again in time to find a group in front of him, guns raised and ready.
“Stop where you are.”
He almost huffs in amusement, as if he would let them stop him now. He bursts forward, ducking to make himself a harder target to hit. The gunfire drowned out his own as they tracked him down the passage. He felt the white hot stab as a shot drew a line across his hip, a second connecting with his vest as he returned fire. A ricochet leaves a burning line on his neck, the wound healing before the blood has even had the chance to land. Satisfaction soothes the burns as he sees one of them drop. He did not have far to go, a few more metres and he would be in their midst. The next round to catch him stops him in his tracks. It lands a glancing blow to Nicky’s temple, the force spinning him as he crumples to the ground. The group pause in their firing, breathing is harsh and deafening in the sudden quiet.
Footsteps draw near as one of them comes to check that he is in fact dead.
Nicky starts to struggle back to his feet, a hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword as he turns to meet the now panicking man. The metal slides from its sheath with a whisper and embeds itself in the others chest, sliding between the seams in the armoured vest. Nicky puts his shoulder against the shuddering sternum and pushes forward, the disbelieving screams of the four ahead and the wild report of guns firing filling the air again. The body in front of him shakes with the impact of bullets, shielding him as he closes the short distance. He comes to a sudden halt barely half a metre from the four, letting momentum and extra force propel his shield into two of the men. They and their dead compatriot are sent tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs and viscera. The freed sword swings, Nicky ducking down to dodge badly aimed shots, forming a wide arc as it cuts through the two that are left standing. He turns back to face the still struggling pair on the ground, one hand releasing the dripping sword to draw his spare gun.
Two final shots ring out and the struggling stops.
After what feels like an age, he hears only his own breathing. He’s the only one left standing as the bodies lay still around him. He walks over them, dropping the gun as he reaches for the door.
Joe, tied up and looking very unimpressed in his torn shirt, greets him from inside the tiny room.
“Nicky.” He greets with a smile, eyes roving over his form like a physical caress. Nicky can feel his limbs begin to grow heavy, adrenaline and sheer desperation leaving him bereft at the sight of his heart sitting safe and sound
“Nicolo.” Joe calls, voice muffled to his ears as he focused on his now frowning face. He becomes aware of the slowly drying blood that coats him, slipping under his shirt to slide like oil down his sides. He stumbles into the room, dropping his sword next to him before he falls to his knees in front of Joe. His hands fumble over the bindings, freeing bound limbs and letting the ropes hang down the sides. He drops his head into Joe’s lap, blocking his eyes and nose and ears with the soft rasp of stiffened fabric and the warm spicy smell that is home. That is his Joe. He can feel the heavy weight of Joe’s arms draping over the back of his neck and his shoulders, his own arms moving to bracket sturdy, life warmed hips.
They are not trapped in a lab, Joe is not bound and being cut apart in front of him. That time is done. They are safe. He lets it repeat through his head like a mantra.
“I am here Nicolo.” Is whispered against his ear, it tickles and soothes in equal measure. His body sags further into the space, tired and hurting and longing all in one.
The moment of quiet is broken by the sound of echoing footsteps. His body tenses up and he rises, letting the returning rush of rage fuel him as he prepares to deal with the new threat. He turns, blade in hand as he distantly registers there are two in front of him armed with guns. He is already shifting his weight forward when he feels Joe move, an arm wraps around his waist and turns him back into the other’s familiar body. He struggles against the hold, confusion and shock licking up his spine as he is forced to show his back to the threat. Voices fill his ears and drown his own growl from being heard.
“Nicolo, calm. Calm Nicolo! It is Andromache. It is Nile. Peace. Peace!” Joe speaks in rapid fire, his beard scratching uncomfortably against Nicky’s quivering cheek. The words pierce through the haze and slowly the rage and confusion is steadily bled out until all that is left is shame.
He had been ready to kill them. His family. He wraps his arms around Joe, the blade clattering to the ground as he bites back a sound of loathing.
“Peace Nicolo. It is okay.” Joe soothes, his hand now carding through sweaty strands. “We are all safe, yes. It is okay.” He repeats, giving Nicky the time to collect himself in privacy. He speaks to Andy and Nile; the words flow over Nicky but do not register as a speech he knows. He counts his breaths as he feels his body relax inch by painful inch.
Finally, he feels like he is himself, body full of aches but following his mind once more. Joe releases him but remains in his space as he graces him with a fond smile.
“Let us leave.” He says the words a suggestion and a command bound in one. Nicky nods even as he moves to follow, helpless to resist as he slowly knits himself back together.
He avoids Nile's gaze; he did not want to see the fear or disgust that would be leveled at him. Deservedly so, but he did not think he could stomach it in this moment. Andy was already striding out; she had seen far too much for this lapse in Nicky’s judgement to phase her.
The four walked out, stepping around the carnage and destroying any evidence they could - even with Copley’s help it was better to be careful.
---
Time between stepping out into the dark night and the journey to the plane that would fly them out was lost to Nicky as he blinked and found himself sitting in a low lit cabin. He started as a sword was laid across his lap, his hands moving to hold it as two dark hands let go. He looked up and was met with a concerned Nile, her hands still outstretched from where they had released the blade back into his care.
“I’m here if you need to talk.” She says, voice warm and welcoming in the space between them. His mouth doesn’t seem capable of forming the words he wants to say. He cannot tell her how grateful he is she is still here, that she still looks at him as her brother in arms and not a monster. He settles for a nod and a weak smile, hoping she can see the gratitude and respect he feels for her. She nods in turn, a hand gently patting his before she moves back to sit by Andy, the two conversing on the latest upgrades to their tech. Nicky takes a moment to marvel at them, then carefully returns his sword to its sheathe and props it against the side of his chair.
Joe settles next to him, arm open in an invitation that Nicky gladly takes. He leans into his space, feeling his arm wrap around his shoulder. He shifted until he was leaning more firmly into the other, taking comfort in the solid shape and familiar planes that he had spent centuries loving and learning. Joe nuzzled the side of his head, the motion fond and familiar as the two settled for the trip home. Fatigue weighed down his lids and with the steady beat of Joe's heart beside his ear, he let it guide him to sleep.