Chapter Text
It took a supreme amount of effort just to get to the kitchen table, and Nile dropped into one of the chairs with a heavy thud. “Foods?”
“That’s not the plural,” Andy lectured, stirring at the stove, before actually answering. “Almost ready. Drink that while you wait.”
She was about to ask ‘drink what’ when she realized a bottle of water was already sitting at the exact spot she’d chosen to sit down. Collapse. Whatever. “How d’you do that?” she grumbled even as she downed the water.
Andy just smirked, but it was a soft, light one. She and Nicky must have had a good recon, then. Compared to Nile and Joe’s shitshow, at least. She wasn’t throwing those secretively relieved looks her way either, so she must’ve not been too worried. And hey, it’s not like Nile was anymore either, now that they were back together. Almost all back together. “Booker texted me an hour ago,” as though she’d heard Nile’s thoughts. “He’s on his way. Seems like Copley got us a nice place to hang out when this is done.”
“Nice,” Nile half-voiced her opinion, half-simply echoed Andy’s words as her brain started shutting down all non-essential functions.
Andy’s snort of laughter wasn’t all that much different from Nicky’s- fond, amused, mostly knowing things were okay for once. She placed a bowl of soup in front of Nile. “Eat. Then sleep. In that order.”
Nile muttered some nonsense just to be difficult, but was already shoveling a spoonful in her mouth, humming at the amazing taste of food, the most beautiful thing in the world. She nodded her thanks when Andy came back to the table, having slipped out briefly to deliver two more bowls to the back bedroom. “Recon good?”
Andy smirked at the way Nile was inhaling the broth. “You really able to hold a conversation right now?”
Nile waved her free hand. “Just talk. Keep me awake until the bowl’s empty.”
“Recon good,” Andy confirmed. “They know what they’re doing, that security detail, but Nicky and I managed to track them to the facility.”
Nile almost- almost but didn't- pause her eating. “We know where it is?”
They’d been after this medical research group for the past month. It had been a sort of unspoken thing between all of them the last couple years- any jobs involving medical testing, pharmaceuticals, evil scientists? Took precedence. They had a vested interest in it now, after all.
They were going to stop all the Merricks and Kozaks of the world.
This one had burned especially hard for them. Whatever research these people were doing, whatever experiments were going on, they were kidnapping people to test them on. Young people. The last three had been under eighteen, and that... none of them could stomach that.
While Nile and Joe tracked (and purposefully attracted the attention of) the hit squad that had been snatching people up, Nicky and Andy had been able to follow the detail guarding the scientists. Which meant that-
“We know where it is,” Andy had a grin of self-satisfaction, determination. “Communication between the groups is sparse, but if your new friends figure out what you were doing, they’ll be expecting a strike.”
“So we hit fast,” Nile said in the moment between swallowing soup and swallowing water.
“A few days,” she nodded. “Copley will have given Book the blueprints and some security badges to get us in. We take a day to watch, make sure they don’t know we’re coming, then we shut this shit down.”
Nile squinted down at the last of her soup, trying to process Andy’s words in the right order. “Good,” was what she came up with.
Andy snorted again, reached out and squeezed the back of Nile’s neck. “Go get some sleep, kid. Before you get even more monosyllabic.”
It was… an insult? Maybe? An Andy-insult, which was also Andy-love. So Nile smiled, nodded, and did as she was told. Her eyes were closed and brain shut off before she’d even fully landed on her bed in her own little bedroom.
...For a little while anyway.
She looked the clock. Again. Twelve minutes since the last time she’d looked. She was going to murder her brain if it didn’t let up on her.
It was just… it was too quiet. That’s what it was. She’d spent the last eight days surrounded by sound- gunfire and grenades and Joe’s light and steady voice at her back and-
When the time between checking the clock went from ten to two minutes, Nile sat up with a huff. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. She grabbed her pillow, her blanket, and left the bedroom. She kept quiet, seeing Booker asleep on the couch, and slipped into Joe and Nicky’s room after a tiny hesitation. It wasn’t like she thought she’d walk in on anything- she knew well enough to know that tonight would be about them getting rest, but this was still…
Not crossing a line, per se, but it was a new level in their relationship. Maybe. A good one, but new, and probably weird, and definitely awkward if she got caught, and-
Nicky was awake.
Shit.
He looked up from his book when she entered, confused for maybe a fraction of a second. But then he saw her pillow and blanket, and softened. “You okay?”
“I…” she looked at them, Nicky reclined on some pillows, Joe properly passed out with his head on Nicky’s stomach, an arm across his hips, a leg across his legs. Koala’d on him, Nile decided.
She was maybe still a little hysterical.
"Nile?” Nicky tried again, his voice extra-quiet. He put his book down on the nightstand, keeping his other hand on Joe’s shoulder, rubbing it when Joe murmured incoherently at the movement.
“I can’t sleep,” she admitted. “I try, and I don’t hear him breathing and my brain just starts to panic that those men are back and he’s dead or I’m about to die again or…” She stopped, sighed. Tried again. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”
She pointed to the floor, the plush bright pink (bright pink?) rug next to the bed, but Nicky was already sliding closer to the edge of the mattress. “Get in.”
“Oh! No, it’s- it’s cool, I can…” She tried, really, but Nicky had pulled Joe- who, weirdly, didn’t so much as twitch at the much more jarring movement- over to him, leaving room for Nile between Joe and the wall. “Oh. Okay.” (He’d only protested when Nicky moved away from him, she would realize later. He hadn’t cared when Nicky pulled him closer. Jesus. These fucking dorks.)
She climbed over both of them and settled instinctively into the position she and Joe had taken up by the third night on their mission, back-to-back, her blanket covering their feet. She sighed, relaxed her muscles one by one, and closed her eyes.
And still couldn’t sleep.
She sighed again, aggravated this time, and carefully turned over. Nicky had his book back propped on his chest, holding it with one hand, resting the other on Joe’s shoulder. Nile reached out and briefly ran her hand up Joe’s back, lingering where a knife had gone through. No wound now, of course. He wasn’t even wearing the sweater where the tear had been. He was wearing Nicky’s hooded sweatshirt, and she kinda wished she’d been around to see just how Nicky had managed to wrestle that onto him.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she whispered when Nicky noticed her watching them.
He smiled, seemingly so unconcerned that she started to relax too. “Andy and I were on long shifts on our recon, I slept most of the day.” And, when he could tell that she could tell there was more, he shrugged. “Sometimes when he goes too long without sleep, it’s hard for him to settle. If he doesn’t get himself a healthy amount tonight, he’ll be jittery for the next few days until things re-balance.”
Her thought that hey, maybe I can relate to that was interrupted, as if on cue, by Joe twitching heavily and coming out of his sleep, wincing at the faint light in the room. “Nico?” he started to push himself up, only for Nicky to pull him back down.
“No, no, Yusuf, you agreed to the rule. At least eight hours in bed, remember?”
Joe groaned, dropped his head back to Nicky’s stomach, closed his eyes. “Can you go check on Nile then, please?”
Nicky grinned, even laughed a little, at the silly mix of confused and disgruntled on Joe’s face and what was probably some weird mix of embarrassed and pleased on Nile’s. “Hmm, I’ll get right on that. Oh, Nile, how are you?”
She reached out and pulled on one of Joe’s curls so she could watch it spring back into place. “I’m good.”
Joe groaned again, rueful this time, flopping onto his back so he could get a look at her. “Good?” he echoed. His eyes were still a little blurry but had lost that vacant look from before.
Speaking of. “Yep. Just got so used to having your cold feet by mine, couldn’t sleep without them.”
He grumbled, kicking her half-heartedly. “You have cold feet.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Hey, troublemakers,” Nicky warned, fighting down a smile. “It’s past your bedtimes.” He covered Joe’s eyes with his free hand, not letting up when Joe tried to shake his head free. “Go to sleep.”
Nile grinned at him, or maybe just a smile, maybe barely that, maybe finally tired enough to drop into sleep. She pressed her not-cold-no-yours-are feet against Joe’s, rested her forehead against his arm, and finally-finally drifted away to the sound of Joe murmuring softly to Nicky, his quiet laugh back, the feel of both of them shifting around each other- and her- in peace.
***
The fact that the hit came not during a mission or during the the night when they were all asleep, but in the middle of the day when the sun was shining and grass was green and birds dared to chirp around them, was just an added insult to the whole affair.
Not as much of an insult as them killing him and kidnapping Joe, but it wasn’t a good start to the day.
They were walking together along a trail in the hills behind their current safehouse, Nicky having dragged Joe out when that restlessness he’d predicted last night to Nile had started to become evident to the others. He’d grabbed Joe’s knee to stop it from bouncing, squeezed, and then pulled him by the hand out back to the forest trails.
They didn’t walk hand in hand, but after Joe realized Nicky’s secret strategy (Wearing me out so I go down for a nap? I’m not some troublesome toddler, Nico, how dare you), he grinned and threaded his arm playfully through Nicky’s at the elbow, keeping them pressed close together, jostling and swinging their arms in tandem every few steps.
So the weather was beautiful, the view was beautiful, Joe was beautiful… and then it all went so ugly.
They heard the approach at the same time, but with the thicket of trees around them obscuring both sight and sound, it was hard to pinpoint direction until the strike team was pretty much on them. They fought back-to-back, defended each other as always, moved in sync in their movements as though they’d planned this ahead of time, and they were doing well enough that Nicky let one small side part of his brain think about how this probably would actually tire Joe out enough for a good amount of sleep- when a bullet struck his knee and had him down halfway. He could hear Joe’s near-silent growl behind him, the way he turned partway to cover the now open spots vulnerable to attack.
Another shot. A sniper, Nicky realized. And that was enough to piss him off just a little bit more. As was Joe’s second growl, this one pained, as he faltered suddenly and stumbled next to Nicky. One of the men got in close through the distraction, clubbed Nicky hard across his face, laying him out on his side on the ground. He cursed, heard Joe do the same, and went to push himself up on his elbow as the man came in even closer, gun pointed directly at him this time.
There were a couple of things that seemed to happen at once, and Nicky would blame his head wound for not being able to figure out the order of it all. Something exploding in the distance- the same distance away as the safehouse- Nicky’s attacker aiming for his forehead, dead enter, the apricot, and- worst of all, absolutely the worst of all- one of the other men asking, “Which one?” just as everything went black.
…
…
…
He gasped back awake to the sight of Andy leaning over him, her face and hair singed, her eyes wild and angry. Nile was there to brace him as he surged upwards, and she gulped down air and wiped away stray trails of blood from his face as he regained his own breath. “What-?”
“They blew up our car,” Andy said grimly, pulling Nile back so Nicky could get to his feet by himself. He always liked to do it under his own power after a death, regain his balance and equilibrium on his own terms, his own strength.
“They?” he asked, shaking his head a little, fingers twitching against his leg for some vague, he-should-know-why reason.
“They knew we were coming after them,” Booker was quiet, angry, behind him.
“It’s my fault, it’s my fault,” Nile was still trying to catch her breath, more frantic than angry. “They must’ve-”
“It’s not your fault-” Andy tried.
“They saw me die and come back, I wasn’t careful enough, they must’ve known we were-”
Nicky turned and finally realized exactly why he was so twitchy. Booker was inspecting the bodies of the few men left behind, stripping them of their weapons and ammo, searching for IDs or security badges. “...Shit.”
Joe was missing.
***
But it wasn’t until about three days later, fifty-six hours almost down to the minute, that Nicky actually started to panic. There was always a low-level worry when Joe was in danger, but it wasn’t the first time one of them had been taken. It wasn’t the first time the group had had to storm a compound to break out one of their own. With the internet and Copley at their disposal, it was even less of a stress than it used to be.
Nicky had even been calmer than normal in the planning and prep, as it was Nile’s first time doing this and he didn’t want her more anxious than she already was. They’d only just barely managed to convince her she hadn’t led the strike team back to the safehouse, hadn’t tipped them off or done anything wrong during the recon.
No, the panic came about forty-five minutes after they breached the fence around the facility. About twenty-minutes after scaling down from the roof and entering the main building. And about five minutes after sweeping the top two floors and finding nothing but a few operatives they easily neutralized. That was all concerning, yes. Worrisome, of course.
But it didn’t set in until just now, as they pushed through the first floor into what had to be the laboratory, the research testing hub, taking out a few more guards (night shift, none of the scientists were here) along the way.
Firstly, because Joe wasn’t there.
He’d been there, Nicky knew. His clothes and boots were neatly folded in one corner. His necklace and rings were on a countertop, and Nicky immediately grabbed and pocketed them. He scanned the half-dark room, shadowed now that they’d cut the electricity before coming in, only emergency and exit lights left glowing.
One of the room’s exam tables was still upright, but at a diagonal as though someone had bumped into it hard, or pushed it to the side. There were restraints on it, and blood. Not a lot of blood, it wasn’t an additional reason to panic, but enough for Nicky’s own to pump harder, angrier. The restraints hadn’t been torn, he noticed. In fact, there were still locked and buckled in place, as though someone had easily just slipped out of them.
But if that someone were Joe, he would be with them. Either he would have met them during the sweep, or holed up here to wait for backup. He would be here.
The other medical table was knocked over on its side, near the far corner of the room. It would have been the best possible cover, but Joe wasn’t coming out from behind it with a makeshift weapon and a determined look on his face. He was nowhere.
He felt the others grow more tense as they also surveyed the room. “Now what?” Nile asked quietly, shooting a glance at Andy, at Nicky, waiting.
Booker checked his ammo, reloaded his gun and took position by the door, watching their six. “Where would he go, if he got free?”
Nicky didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because there was movement behind the overturned table. Nicky held up a hand to the others, and everyone immediately went on alert. He took a step closer, just barely making out the outline of fingers gripping one of the table legs.
He took a couple more steps, then crouched down. Because improbably, distressingly, the hand he could see was very, very small. Too small to be Joe, and absolutely too small to be in a place like this. “Hello?” he called out softly, even as he stuck his gun at his back. Half of his body still thrummed with the need to find Joe, but if there was- but there was a child here, and he couldn’t just leave that be.
“Oh, what the fuck,” he heard Andy murmur as a head and one shoulder joined the hand, peeking around the side of the table. It was a boy, very young, maybe- it was still too dark to get a good look or see any distinguishing features- maybe just out of toddler years, four or five. Why on earth was there a child here? They’d taken a couple of teenagers before, but what- what could they have possibly done to…?
“Hello there,” Nicky kept his voice soft, calm. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
The boy didn’t startle at the words necessarily, but he didn’t seem to react to the question at all. Just stayed where he was, studying the four of them.
He didn’t understand the language, Nicky realized. He tried again in Spanish, in Greek, in Italian. Even if the child didn’t respond to any of it, at least the cadence of Nicky’s voice didn’t frighten him away. But it was at the furrow of the boy’s brow at his next greeting in Arabic, and as Nicky’s eyes adjusted to the low light even more, that his chest began to seize. What was the emotion past panic? Because that’s where he was headed.
The brown skin and curly hair were one thing, but it was the eyes that really gave it away. He should have been more skeptical, he should have been more cautious, but Nicky knew. The boy’s eyes were open wide, almost too big for his face. They were so expressive, radiated terror and confusion, a want for help, for safety. But curiosity too, like he couldn’t help himself. Nicky knew those eyes better than he knew his own. And his heart nearly stopped. No, no, nonono.
“Yusuf,” he said quietly, dropping farther down to his knees, hunching in to make himself smaller. “Do you know me?” he asked in a Maghrebi Arabic, the oldest version he could remember. The version Joe had taught him by campfire over the span of a year, two years, three-four-five, their first few together.
He heard Andy’s sharp intake of breath, Booker’s muttered curse, but ignored them. He kept his focus on the child. The boy had turned immediately to him when he spoke, eyes still so wide, but holding a flicker of recognition at the language this time. And he stayed where he was with no hint of coming closer, but he didn’t move any farther away either, thank God. He looked Nicky over a few times, so intently (like Joe would), then shook his head.
Okay. Fuck. Okay. “That’s all right,” he smiled. “My name is Nicky. These are my friends.” He gestured to them, and managed to turn it into a wave, getting them to take a few steps back, stand down. Booker and Nile immediately stowed their guns out of sight, and Andy, with a reluctant sigh, nodded back out to the hallway and beyond, indicating she’d take off, another perimeter check and prep their getaway vehicle, as she couldn’t exactly hide the huge labrys dripping with blood.
Nicky gave a half-nod in return, still looking at Joe, still smiling peaceably. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Another head shake. “Okay. Good. Will you come with me, then? So my friends and I can take you somewhere safe?” Joe tensed up again, hunkering down behind the table leg even more.
He felt Nile kneel down beside him, could sense somehow that she had that sweet, soft smile on her face. “Hungry?” she asked, using the same dialect. Joe had been teaching her recently, and Nicky had never been more grateful for her quick grasp of languages. The child’s eyes managed to grow impossibly wider, and there was a small, tentative nod. Nile gave a little laugh, and pulled a bit of chocolate out of a pocket in her jacket.
Another thing Joe had taught her - having mint or ginger (or chocolate, as was Nile’s preference) on hand during a job, because sometimes when you wake up after dying you can still taste blood and death dripping down the back of your throat. She unwrapped the small square, broke off a piece, and reached out enough that Joe wouldn’t have to come too close.
He snatched it away from her quickly, expecting a trap (and oh, how that hurt Nicky’s heart a little), and held it up close to examine. Then he looked back at Nile. “You first,” his voice was soft and small, the higher pitch of child, but so very much Joe that Nicky wanted to keel over. He also wanted to laugh at the surprised indignation on Nile’s face, could hear a quiet chuckle from Booker behind them at the door.
“Me first,” Nile recovered quickly, nodded. She brought the rest of that square to her mouth and ate it, then pointed at Joe’s. He waited a second, watching Nile, looking for any sign of a trick, then devoured the piece she’d given him. Her grin got a little bigger. “Good?”
He looked at all three of them, one at a time, then nodded. Then looked past them to the hall. “There are bad men here.”
“No,” Nicky answered quickly, firmly. “We made them go. We want to leave before more come, though. Will you come with us?” He held a hand out like Nile had, not too far, not too close, giving Joe some space.
Joe crept a little closer, more confused than frightened of them now. “Arwa?”
Nile looked to Nicky, not recognizing the word, but it took all of Nicky just to stay on Joe, keep the smile on his face, apologetic as it was. “Not here. But she is safe, Yusuf. I promise. We will get you back to her as soon as we can. Okay? Her and Nasr.”
And that did the trick, thank God, that Nicky knew her and Nasr’s names. He came out from behind the table, and Nicky wanted to cry at how small he was, drowning in what was probably the smallest medical scrubs top the lab had. And then did almost cry at the trusting way he placed his hand in Nicky’s, holding on tight, gazing up at him.
Nicky squeezed gently, then looked back out to the hall, the exit, and the Humvee he knew was parked at the end. “Do we need to go?” he switched back to English.
Booker eyed the hall, then turned back, softened his face when he caught Joe studying him. “It’s been thirty-three minutes. Yes.”
The next shift would be arriving soon. Nicky nodded for Nile to stand, for her and Booker to prepare covering them. Then he turned back to Joe. “Yusuf, more bad men will be here very soon, and we will have to run. Can I carry you?”
Joe blinked up at him, brow still furrowed and trying so hard to work all of this out, and Nicky hated this entire situation. It was a lot. Too much. For them, and definitely for a child. But then Joe nodded and held up both arms, still so trusting. He picked him up gently, settling him on his hip just out of the way of his sword hilt, in case he needed to pull it free.
Booker led the way, and Nile took up position at their six, offering another smile to Joe when he peeked over Nicky’s shoulder at her. “Safe,” she nodded at him. “Safe. You’re safe.” She kept it up even as they started to move, a slow jog at first, then picking up speed as they got through the fence and neared the Humvee.
Andy was waiting for them, her eyes doing another double-take at Joe, still not used to it, but then her attention was caught on something behind them. “Move,” she barked out, turning the engine over with one hand, pulling out a gun with the other.
Nicky could hear it now, shouts, running footsteps, maybe even the sounds of another engine. No. These bastards weren’t getting him back. He cupped one hand to the back of Joe’s head, held him against his shoulder, shielding, and made a break for it. “I’ve got you,” he picked up where Nile had dropped off, whispering to the boy now shaking in his arms. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Booker opened the backseat door for him and then hustled around to the passenger side. Nicky dove in to the back, trusting Nile to follow behind him and shut the door. He kept both arms around Joe, hunching over him at the sound of gunfire, one of the windows shattering, Nile yelling something even as Andy threw the Humvee into gear and took off.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated, brushing fingers over and over through his hair. “I’m here.” Joe was still shaking, burrowing deeper into his hold, his own (too) small hands grasping at Nicky’s vest and shirt. “It's all right, we’re okay.”
It took a couple minutes of fancy maneuvers, of Booker and Nile both firing out their windows, but soon they were in the clear. And yet, with all eyes trying and failing not to stare at the figure curled up in Nicky’s lap, nobody seemed all that relaxed.
“Another thirty minutes or so till we get to the house,” Andy said quietly, meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror. They’d moved locations that morning, to one of Andy’s she’d held onto for years. Longer than any of these research people had been alive, that was for sure. For all the good- the safety- it might do them. He nodded back at her, wondering if his own face was as desperately helpless as hers. Probably.
Nile set her gun aside with a tired sigh, then turned to face him. Both of them. She reached out and rubbed her hand up and down Joe’s back, soothing. “Okay, sweetheart?” she pulled out another piece of her candy. “Chocolate?” she offered in English. Joe finally turned his head away from Nicky’s chest to look at her, and whatever look was on his face melted Nile completely. She cupped his face gently, ran her thumb against his cheek a few times. “Very. Brave.” She went back to Derja, said the words one at a time. Decisive.
He could feel Joe relax against him a little, could feel him smile a little. He kept the motion of his hand in Joe’s hair, carding through, as Nile shared more little bits of chocolate. They all sat in silence for the rest of the ride, staring at nothing out the window, trying not to stare at- at…
At Yusuf, Nicky decided then and there, as Andy pulled into the drive in front of their new safehouse. Yusuf, not Joe. Nicky had to differentiate in his head or he might go into some very real hysterics. It wasn’t often they encountered something so entirely outside their many realms of experience. It was even less often that Nicky encountered something without Joe by his side.
This wasn’t going to be so simple as taking care of Joe after an injury or a tough mission. This was… this was a child that needed to be cared for. How on God’s earth were they supposed to do this?
And how were they supposed to get Joe back?
He stowed the fear for now, knowing any panic or confusion in him couldn’t possibly help the situation. Couldn't help Yusuf, or Joe. It was enough to cause Nicky to tighten his hold as he got out of the Humvee, murmuring nonsense softly in Italian, keeping Yusuf close to the warmth of his chest, his heartbeat.
He threw a questioning look at Booker when he didn’t follow the rest of them up to the house. Booker shook his head, held out a hand to Andy. “Keys.” She handed them over immediately, but with the same questioning look on her face. Booker kept his own expression too neutral and his voice too calm. “He needs clothes. Shoes. And... We don’t know how long this is going to last. I’m going on a supply run.”
“Good. Yeah.” Andy gave a simple nod and turned back to go inside, not making a fuss, and Nicky and Nile followed her lead, leaving Book to head back out.
“Having a kid around’s gonna be tough for him, isn’t it?” Nile half-whispered, as though Booker could hear or Yusuf could understand.
Nicky just hummed an affirmative, sitting himself down on the sofa, tentatively relaxing his hold on Yusuf, if no other reason than to see what he’d do. He kept his eyes on the boy’s bowed head, his fingers still holding onto Nicky’s vest, as Andy took a seat farther away and Nile perched on the far end of the sofa within Yusuf’s line of sight.
“We’re safe now. Safe here,” he said quietly, running his hand up and down Yusuf’s back. “Are you sure you are not hurt?”
Yusuf pulled back enough to look at Nicky, and he felt his heart twist again at the red-rimmed, overwhelmed look in his eyes. But he nodded, his fingers fiddling with one of the straps on Nicky’s vest, the same kind of tic adult-Joe had when he was trying to process too much at once. “They were very mean.”
He kept himself steady with his many years of practice, despite the way he could see Andy look away sharply out of the corner of his eye, could hear Nile’s shaky exhale of air. He smiled, brushed Yusuf’s hair back from his face gently, the curls just on the shorter side of overgrown, spilling over his forehead. “They won’t be coming here,” Nicky promised. “They were mean to you, Yusuf?”
He nodded again. “They yelled. Loud. And stuck me.”
“Stuck you?” Nicky repeated.
Yusuf pressed at his upper arm. “Sharp sticks.”
Needles. They’d injected him. Drugged him. Nicky covered the spot with his own hand, somewhat scared of just how much larger he was. His hand covered nearly all of Yusuf’s upper arm. He was so small.
“How many?” Andy asked quietly, pitching her voice low and soothing without being overly saccharine or pushy. “How many sharp sticks were there?”
He wasn’t surprised her accent with the dialect was flawless, but Yusuf seemed pretty perturbed by it- at this point in his life he probably hadn’t met that many people of their skin color who could speak his language, let alone a woman. He huddled a little closer to Nicky while studying Andy, trying to puzzle her out.
Nicky couldn’t help the smile, whether for that curiosity he’d recognize anywhere- the kind that often distracted Joe in the middle of a random sentence- or for the fact that Yusuf moved towards him for safety, comfort. “That is Andy,” he said quietly. “The very best warrior in the world.” And he ignored Andy’s eye roll in favor of the shine of wonder on Yusuf’s face. “Did they use sticks on you more than once?”
“Three,” Yusuf held up the corresponding fingers one at a time.
“That’d be every, what, four or five hours? So at least twelve hours, then, maybe more,” Andy mused in English. "He was only Joe for a few hours. They must've started this, this thing pretty much as soon as they got him." Back to Yusuf, “Did they feed you, Yusuf?” He nodded. “How many times did you eat?” Before he could respond, “Did you sleep? Do you remember anything before the bad people?” Getting more worked up with each question. “Did they talk to you, try to ask you questions?”
“Andy,” Nile admonished. “Ease up the interrogation, maybe?” Yusuf’s eyes had gotten wide again, watery. Overwhelmed, confused, upset. Exhausted, more than anything.
Nicky could relate. He brought Yusuf in to his chest again and rubbed his back slowly. “Okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”
“I want Arwa,” he mumbled, his voice wobbly and draining steadily.
“I know, sweetheart,” he kept his voice just as low. “I know. I promise we will get you back to her.” Was it dangerous to promise? Probably. But Nicky wouldn’t allow himself to believe anything other than that they would get his Joe back, so this had to be true as well.
“Arwa,” Yusuf insisted, stubborn, but fading oh-so-fast.
“I know,” Nicky repeated too, slower and softer, hoping to lull him down. “Shh, I know.” Repeated over and over, until the entirely too small body in his lap became sleep-heavy and silent.
Andy got up from her chair once she was sure Yusuf was asleep, moved in to get a closer look at him. “He’s probably still groggy from whatever they drugged him with.”
“Do you…” Nile stopped, then forced herself to continue on. “Do you think it was a sedative, or just whatever- whatever made him this way?”
“Both maybe,” Andy clenched her jaw, brushed a hand through Yusuf’s hair lightly. “Sorry, sunshine,” she murmured, so soft Nicky barely heard her. Then, raising her voice again, not enough to wake him, just enough to be heard, “What the everloving fuck did they do to him? And why?”
“How do we get him back?” Nile asked the other burning question.
It burned too much. Nicky swallowed hard, then stood carefully while still cradling Yusuf. “I’ll put him to bed,” was all he could say. He moved quickly so he wouldn’t have to hear anymore, taking Yusuf into their- his?- their?- room. “Okay,” he murmured, “Let’s get you settled for the night, hmm?” he asked no one. Yusuf couldn't answer, fast asleep, and Joe couldn't... wasn't... He laid Yusuf out on the bed, leaving him the scrubs shirt for now- so big it came down past his knees anyway, drew the blanket over him, stepped back, and nearly had another meltdown.
He was so small.
It wasn’t a large bed, something Joe pointed out every time they were here with a waggle of his eyebrows. But Yusuf was almost swallowed up by it, so much so that Nicky had a frantic sort of flash and grabbed the extra pillows off the bed and nearby chair, tried to craft a soft barrier all around him to keep him… what, Nicolò, keep him safe? Could any of them actually be safe? Would Yusuf ever be? Would Joe?
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, used the time to push the panic back down. He leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to Yusuf’s temple, readjusted the blanket around his chin. “Sleep well, Yusuf,” he whispered. He left the lamp on its lowest setting and the door cracked open a fraction as he left, reminding himself in that moment that he was an immortal warrior and had lived centuries through every modern war and invention and disaster… and that a child was not going to be the thing that broke his brain.
Lord, Joe would be having a field day with this if he was here.
If...
He shook his head. They’d fix this. He refocused on the living room as he came back, Booker having arrived in those minutes away. He approached Nicky almost reluctantly, only holding his gaze for a few seconds at a time before looking away, looking at him again, looking away again. “I, uh,” he shoved a bag into Nicky’s hands. “Got some clothes, socks, shoes, everything. A coat. It’s going to be colder for him, we’re not used to dealing with it.”
“Good thinking. Smart,” Nicky nodded, wanting to treat this gently too, unsure how.
“Do you think he’d understand Standard?” Booker asked, lowering his voice, even though they both knew Andy and Nile could still hear everything. “Arabic. I know you were speaking the Maghrebi one, but I haven’t in awhile, might be rusty. Don’t want to confuse him more than he already is.”
Nicky shrugged one shoulder, feeling like any sharp sudden movement might spook Booker away. “I don’t know. We can test it out in the morning, maybe. If he’s still… this way.”
“You think it’ll wear off?” Nile asked from the sofa, hopeful.
“We can’t assume anything until we know what exactly ‘it’ is,” Andy interjected from the kitchen doorway, holding a new bag of child-friendly groceries. “So, a little preparation for every possibility.”
“Yeah, that won’t be anxiety-inducing,” Nile muttered, though at least her tone was still light.
Booker’s, not so much. He handed Nicky another bag. “I got him…” he stopped, his own half-shrug. “In case he needed something to sleep. Or feel better, I don’t know, fuck, just don’t bat your eyelashes at me, asshole.”
Because the second bag held a stuffed animal dog. A large one, maybe half the size of Yusuf himself. “Book…” It was brown and white, big floppy limbs and ears, overly soft fur, and-
“He’s a child,” Booker snapped, half defensive, half embarrassed, fully covering it with anger. “He needs more than just the material basics, okay? He needs…” he drifted off with a shake of his head, seeming to realize that everyone was watching him. “We’ll need to have a plan for if this is long term.”
And that could mean anything, but Nicky was suddenly terrified that he meant they would have to send Yusuf away. Before he could get defensive himself, or snap back at him, Andy reappeared in the living room, instantly calming. “We’ll need to make a lot of potential plans,” she said, eyeing first Booker, then Nicky. Telling them both to stand down and relax. “And it can wait until morning after everyone’s had some sleep and decent coffee. Bunk down for the night.”
Nicky waited for Booker to step back first, until there was enough air around him for him to breathe again. And then Nile was there, grabbing him gently by the wrist. “Hey.” She waited for Nicky to look over at her, then raised her eyebrows. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a break, or a walk, some time alone? I can sit with him for awhile if you want to-”
But Nicky was already shaking his head. “I think that’s something else I want to put off until at least tomorrow.”
She seemed to understand, but asked anyway, “You sure?”
And Nicky very much was sure. “I still need to be near him. Even if he’s not my- our- our Joe right now. It’s still better than not.”
“Okay, yeah,” Nile offered up a smile. “I know. But tomorrow, if you want to take, like, even just twenty minutes to have a freakout somewhere, that’s okay too. I had a lot of little cousins growing up. I’m a very reliable babysitter. Got references and everything.”
He smiled because that had been her goal, but part of him still blanched at the idea that… “He’s Joe.”
“I know,” she said again.
“Except he’s not. This is Yusuf, he’s never met us, he has no reason to trust us, and he’s scared and defenseless and-”
“And surrounded by badass warriors. Three of whom can’t be killed.” She shook his wrist, squeezing harder. “This didn’t happen by magic, Nicky. Right? It was science. Which means it can un-happen. We’ll get him back.”
“We’ll get him back,” he repeated. “Yes.”
And the very logical part of him believed that, knew it even. But when he slipped back into the bedroom and saw a child sleeping there, curled up on the far side of the bed against the wall, he let the despair run through him, just for a minute or two. Because Joe wasn’t here. And something like this- any something, really- was infinitely easier when Joe was here.
And because Yusuf, maybe on purpose, maybe in his sleep, had managed to get all of those pillows Nicky had put on the bed into a pile between himself and the door. Protecting himself. Nicky smiled painfully, setting the stuffed dog down at the foot of the bed.
He was having a hard time not feeling like a child himself at the moment, his world boiling down to one very specific need. His husband. Joe was his safety net, his tether to the world outside his own head, his outlet and sanctuary. The first and best source of unconditional support and love he'd ever had. Where the hell was Nicky supposed to be, if Joe wasn't here?
If Joe wasn't anywhere?