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Nicolò kept his head down, fingers steady on the gun in his grip as they all stumbled their way toward the car, leaving behind the wreckage caused by Nile and Merrick’s fall. He watched as Andy and Booker heaved a grimacing Nile into the backseat, her leg snapping back into place as they did so. Joe had already circled around and hopped in the driver’s seat, he waited until all the doors had closed before climbing into the passenger’s seat.
The moment they began to move Nicolò felt a weight disappear, the adrenalin of the fight slowly ebbing away and leaving, in its place, a terrible migraine. For now, Joe was focused on their escape, making sure nobody had noticed their non-descript car in the midst of the chaos and sirens.
Releasing a soft sigh and listening to the quiet grunts of pain in the backseat, he closed his eyes and tried to center himself. His head ached something fierce and he knew, instinctively, that the bullet had travelled out the back of his skull and into the flooring but it still felt as thought it were lodged in his head, shifting around and looking for a way out.
Ignoring the pit in his stomach was no small task, not with Andy bleeding on the seats behind them, no longer healing. That could have been him and while Nicolò did not fear death, not even the possibility of its permanence, this one had been particularly quick and gruesome.
“There is a church eight blocks away on Fifteenth and Baker. They won’t say anything, and we can stitch Andy up. They’ll have clothes and weapons.”
Booker’s voice was quiet, firm and only served to sour the air of victory in the car. Nicolò glanced at Joe, whose eyes had narrowed, hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. Still, he said nothing and turned on the next corner.
It seemed that neither he nor Andy were willing to deal with the fallout of Booker’s betrayal just yet and Nile was still in too much pain to argue. For his own part, he could barely stand to think with the way his head was pounding.
Nicolò knew, in theory, that he was fine and healed, rebirthed once more. His body had healed him of all physical ailments just as it had always done and yet…he’d died the moment the gun had gone off but in his mind there had been a delay that had dragged on impossibly long.
The sound of the gun had been deafening, he had felt the ringing in his ears and could still taste the hot metal between his teeth, resting on his tongue for a split second. He swore, despite knowing its impossibility that he’d felt the bullet rattling through his brain, forcing its way through his skull and exploding out the back.
Coming too had been no less disturbing. He’d felt the blood first, sticky and too warm in his hair, his throat. The ringing had persisted even as he finally took his first breath again, entire body jolting awake.
Then he’d seen Joe, felt his touch, the relief in his eyes…and he was back.
Nicolò hadn’t had the time to process it all, his fear for Andy pushing him to his feet but now, in the relative silence of the car, everything hurt, even if they were just phantom pains. He found himself running his tongue absently over his teeth, his jaw clenching and unclenching, hoping he wouldn’t find any more gruesome pieces of teeth to spit out. Only a few of his teeth had shattered but it was enough to make him nauseas.
He was startled from his musings when he felt familiar fingers tangling with his own. Blinking rapidly, Nicolò opened his eyes and looked at Joe, whose own expression was decidedly one of heart-wrenching concern. The intensity of it was overwhelming and he was glad when his lover was forced to look back at the road.
In the backseat the conversation was quiet, Nile and Booker seemingly working together to stem Andy’s injuries, much to her annoyance. Part of Nicolò wished Joe would make one of his jokes and ease the tension…but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Nicolò?”
Those eyes were on him again and his voice was soft, as though he did not want the others to hear him. He appreciated the gesture, though there was nothing they could, or should hide from their family and already he could feel Nile’s gaze on them, curious and worried.
She had become part of them in such a short time.
He could already tell she would fit right in, the fight in her eyes was refreshing, something he hadn’t seen in hundreds of years. As far as he was concerned, she was already family through and through.
“Nicolò.”
This time his voice was harder, louder and his eyes snapped back to the man he loved so intimately. He’d been drifting, unable to focus on anything and he hadn’t even realized it. Squeezing Joe’s hand, he offered him a small smile, just a slight upturn of his lips.
Joe sighed and looked back at the road. Nicolò already knew he’d be attached to him for the next few days and he found himself looking forward to it. Lifting their intertwined hands, Joe brought it to his lips, eyes steady in front of them, as he began to place painfully delicate kisses along his knuckles, like he had all the time in the world to appreciate each one.
The feeling that swelled up inside him was a stark contrast to the fuzzy, empty sensation he’d been experiencing since the gun went off in his face. The tension that had been hiding in his spine seeped away and he slumped further in his seat. Joe’s eyes were knowing and even after a millennia Nicolò found himself in awe of the man he loved.
“I know,” Joe murmured against his hand. “I know.”
This time Nicolò’s smile was wide, spreading across his lips in the way only Joe could inspire. It was easy to believe, with him by his side, they would be alright, he would be alright.