Archive of Our Own

Nile woke up gasping, as she had most nights of the last two months. However this time she wasn’t alone in Copley’s guest room, she was on the top bunk in a four-bed hostel room in Madrid. This time her desperate need for breath is met with a room reacting.

Across the room, on the top bunk, Nicky sat up with his gun out and ready, Nile can see Joe’s hand brushing against Nicky’s elbow and she wonders if they’ll spend the rest of eternity being thrust into wakefulness by her nightmares. She can’t see Andy, but she knows Andy is awake by the question that comes up through the mattress.

“Was it her?”

Andy can’t say her name, and Nile respects that.

“No,” Nile said in response, taking in a deep breath and holding her hand over her heart, “its nothing, sorry for waking you.”

Nicky tucked the gun back under his pillow, and Joe sank out of sight behind him. Nile turned and lowered herself out of the bed, bare feet hitting tiled floors. By some unspoken rule they all sleep in their clothes when they’re sharing a room. It makes her shuffling walk of shame to the bathroom seem less awkward. If she’d been in the pajamas she’d picked up in Heathrow it would’ve been a little more embarrassing.

They’ve been together long enough now that she knows how it’ll be when she gets back to the room. Andy had an arm flung over her eyes, her hand gently curled around a gun resting on her stomach. Nicky is sitting on the bottom bunk of the bed, next to their nondescript grey duffle bags. Joe’s hand is hanging over the edge of the bunk, but he’s out cold again.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” Nile said, the stab of guilt at ruining the night coming a little harder. Joe had been so excited when he saw the bunk beds, grinning widely as Nicky said don’t let me fall off this time.

Nicky nodded but made no motion to stand up, to return to his husband’s arms. Instead he said, “I’m awake now. Do you want to go for a drive?”

“A drive?” She looked at her watch, it wasn’t anywhere close to morning. Although the idea of getting out of their windowless room is an attractive one, she can’t deny it, “Are you sure?”

In response Nicky stands up, holding the keys to the rental car up, and giving them a quick shake.

They had to park on the street, something that had Andy cursing in Spanish at Joe while Joe argued back about which spot would be closest to the hostel. The street is nearly empty, except for the crowd at the end of it, standing outside of a white bricked apartment building. Throbbing music was spilling out over the crowd of smokers and laughing patrons.

Nile slid into the passenger seat as Nicky made no offer to give her the keys. He’s wearing a cheap bracelet he’d purchased for himself earlier that day from a street hawker. The beads glint in the streetlights, shimmering reflections of the evil eye bouncing off the dash. He’d bought one for each of them, but had put Joe’s on personally.

“What’s the destination?” Nile asked, putting the seat belt on out of habit rather than concern for her own safety.

“None in mind.” He jerked his head towards the crowd, “maybe we should go clubbing. There’s a lot of places in Spain where you could find an attractive person to spend some time with.”

“Going to wingman me?” She asked, a smile coming to her face despite the tension still in her chest.

“I’ll admit it, Joe is a better wingman, and Andy is the best, if you need to get laid I can find someone for you.”

Nile laughed at that, before shaking her head “Not tonight, no.”

“Hmm, a tour then,” He said, nodding before pulling away from the curb. Her eyes skated over the crowd as they passed, continuing on to the road ahead of them before she turned to face Nicky. She’d spent the lionshare of her time with Andy lately, training, however Nicky was there to help. He seemed to go into everything cautiously but with his entire weight behind it.

“Have you ever done the one night stand thing? Before Joe?” She asked, her head lolling on the seat to face him.

Nicky’s mouth purses, just ever so slightly, as if he’s trying to think, “Not really no.”

“Why do I have the feeling you haven’t since either?” she asked, lifting her feet to press them against the dash. Nicky and Joe were careful not to sit next to each other, or to spend all of their time cuddled up in corners. It’s a stark difference from the friends she had who played at love and broke up within six months. Thinking about her friends just reminded her of her youth, driving around in cars, talking about boys. She feels younger and older than ever.

“You can’t have ambrosia and then start eating gruel,” Nicky said, his hand dropping down to turn on the turn signal. She let out a bark of laughter.

“Fair enough.” She wants to grasp on that feeling of her youth, slipping away, so she grabs the aux cord. Copley had set her up with a phone that has access to spotify and a library of music. The signal bounces off his house instead of wherever she is. As if an distinguished ex CIA agent suddenly developed a deep and abiding love for listening to perfectly curated playlists. She held the cord and the phone up as an afterthought, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said, taking the car deeper into Madrid, towards the half a millenia old heart.

This is another game from her late teens that she likes to play, trying to pick the perfect song without any input from the other person. A small guessing game. What does a Crusader turned Immortal Guard like to listen to? He had a tendency to turn the radio to 60s and 70s slow jams when he had control over the dials. He’d hum along with the sadder love songs. But it would be too easy to put on Dock of the Bay.

Instead she chose Moon River by Frank Ocean. As soon as the lyrics started to roll on Nicky smiled.

Hole in one.

The tension is loosening in her chest, she scrolled, looking for songs to queue up. Some for her, some for him, all of them soft. Nicky doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He doesn't refer to his phone, taking them on a route that matters only to him.

Once she had ten songs synced up she let her head drop back onto the seat rest again, looking out the window at the buildings. There’s not too many people walking on the streets, even if the night is still young in the Spanish sense of it. She looked at Nicky again, studying his profile as he drove.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Nicky finally asked. She figured a thousand year old man would know when someone was staring at him.

Questions to distract, change the subject, bring up anything else, they all come to mind but instead, as they roll to a stop at a light, she let her eyes gloss over to the street.

“It was the lab,” even out of the corner of her eye, she can see his fist clench around the wheel, and relax just as quickly. “I opened the door, instead of you and Joe, it was my mom and my brother. They weren’t healing and there was holes all over them, scooped out chunks of flesh and --”

She stopped herself, sitting up right, “Sorry, my nightmare is your lived reality. You saw the person you love the most get tortured.”

“Having lived it, I can tell you that I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” His hand drifts between them, patting her forearm, “let alone on one of my friends. At least I can tell you that I’ve had similar nightmares. Go on.”

“I couldn’t get to them. Dream logic, you know, I ran and ran but never got closer to them.” She sighed and it turned into a shudder, they drift past a Cathedral with an inconspicuous door tucked by a crosswalk. She only knew it was a Cathedral because Joe pointed out the new one and how he liked that the Spanish hadn’t stopped building large houses of worship. Most Europeans gave up in the 1500s, he said, as Nicky rolled his eyes.

“The first few years are the hardest. Your new life and your old life are wrapped intrinsically together,” he tapped his bracelet, swiveling it around so that the knot rested on the inside of his wrist.

“I just don’t want to forget them,” she confessed, sinking into her seat again. He’s taking them closer and closer to the plaza, but they won't be able to drive through it.

“You won't.” Nicky’s checked for pedestrians before turning a corner, a simple act and an acknowledgement that not everyone was as resilient as them. She wanted to ask if humans seemed extra fragile to him, if the meaning of life had magnified since he knew the scope of it. But before she can ask, he said, “Joe hasn’t.”

It’s such a small difference. She almost didn’t catch it.

“You have?”

“Look there,” He pointed out the window at a building, the long continuous building bracing the plaza. “It burned down a few times before they managed to get it to stay up.”

For a second she thinks he’s changing the subject entirely, but instead he rapped his fingers against the wheel and did a three point turn out the dead end they found themselves in. “I think I forgot my family before I even left Genoa for the Crusades.”

“Oh?” She said, feeling like she should’ve asked something more insightful.

“Yes, I had a sister and a niece that I remembered fondly at least, I can still see their faces in my mind. I had a brother too, we were far apart in age. My parents foisted me on maids and the like. By the time I joined the priesthood I put any idea of a close knit family behind me. I tried to focus on the brotherhood. I couldn’t quite fit there either. As a crusader I was bloodthirsty in battle but not off out of it, and my fellow knights thought me pretentious for not slaking my thirst on the people we overtook.” He shrugged, twisting the car around narrow corners without much focus or concern. “Joe, well Yusuf as he was then, had parents who indulged him, siblings who adored him, nieces and nephews that tottered around him. He always wanted a family like that, numerous and warm.”

“It must’ve been hard to leave that behind.” She said, “For him, I mean, not the knights who judged you for not raping people.”

“I followed,” Nicky said, with another one of his half smiles, before it faded away and he said “He struggled with it, more than I did. Before we realized that old age wouldn’t take us either, he suggested we settle down in his homeland. Adopt a few children and raise them by the sea. I had never given thought to a family." Nicky drew in a shaky breath, "But I wanted that.”

“Did he have kids?” She found herself asking, but she had a feeling she knew the answer.

He shook his head, “Only Booker had children.”

Invoking Booker’s name sat heavy between them. Booker jealous of their love while Joe was probably felt the same about Booker’s children.

“Did you ever adopt?”

“That,” He said, pulling into a gas station, “is a story for another night. One where I’ve had enough alcohol where I can forget I’ve said anything.”

That was easy enough to understand. There were loads of things Nile didn’t particularly want to recall sober.

After Nicky filled up the tank, he began to wind through the streets back to the hostel. He focused on lighter stories, telling her about the first time he and Joe (Jose, then.) had seen the Plaza Mayor, and walked through Sol. The same Sol they now had to drive around because it’d been blocked up to become a pedestrian walkway.

A few blocks away from the hostel he pulled easily into a spot. He didn’t shut off the car, instead he pointed up at a small cafe just opening for the day.

“Two cafe con leches, one black coffee, three churros, and whatever pastry looks good,” He lifted his hips, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, giving her a crisp hundred Euro bill like it was nothing “and get whatever you want too. Work on your spanish.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re making me do this because you don't want to practice your spanish?” She asked, and Nicky just smiled, and faced forward.

While she’s still tired, she no longer felt the same tension in her chest. She could sit on her bed and watch Andy enjoy the churro as Nicky tried to wake up Joe, his feet on the bottom most rung, and his hand jostling Joe’s calf.

Despite the lack of sleep she felt more than ready to start the next leg of their mission.

The AC is doing it’s best to churn the thick humid air in the room, to make it something more manageable and palatable. It’s failing horribly. Nile found herself sitting on the edge of her bed spread, holding her heart, and breathing as deep as she could. After longer than she’d like to admit, she gave up. She washed her face and pulled on her clothes for the day.

It was still too early, but they had nowhere to be. Afterall a successful mission meant crashing in a hotel for a few days. Gearing up for the next one. That's what brought them to Hyderabad to begin with. A short vacation.

Andy had sat at the bar the night before, made long eye contact with a woman who had sleek black hair down to her thighs, before leaning towards Nile and muttering don’t look for me tomorrow morning. Leaving Nile with a guffawing and chuckling set of husbands.

She didn’t want to bother them either. They both looked rightfully exhausted when they parted ways at their doors.

Yet she found herself pacing outside of their room. The tiled floor clicking against her heels as she thought better of it, turned towards her own door, just to turn back again.

She got closer to knocking when the door opened a crack, Nicky twisting his way out to keep the light from streaming in. He pulled it shut behind himself and smiled at Nile. He was dressed in a thin cotton shirt, and bootleg jeans that seemed just a tad too big for him.

“What’s wrong, Nile?” Nicky asked.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Nile said, pointing back towards her own door. When Nicky turned to look at her door, she saw the spattering of bruises up the side of his neck, slowly disappearing into pale skin. She made a distressed noise, stepping forward to help when she realized what the marks actually were. “Oh no, I interrupted.”

Nicky shook his head, brushing his hand against his neck, “Trust me, I would not have heard your pacing if we were occupied. One moment.”

He disappeared into the room again, and she sank against the wall. Feeling a mix of embarrassment and shame. She was immortal now. She should be stronger than this.

Nicky reemerged with two of the large water bottles that she recognized from the hotel minifridge. The label stamped with the hotel’s brand rather than some generic name. He handed both of them to her and locked the door behind himself.

“A drive I think,” he said, carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and tugging her towards the elevator.

Early morning workers were beginning to scramble, however the road was still quiet. A dust packed parking lot with a for sale sign stood to one side of the hotel, ready to become something different but for now had the responsibility of holding the respectable honda. Nicky held his hand out in the car, as she still tried to think why she was even bothering him this early.

She stared at him blankly for a second.

“Your phone?” Nicky pointed at the radio, “I like the music here, but I think we should sing along to one of your songs.”

She felt her pockets, finally finding it in her back pocket. She wore long jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt, a little too tight to be comfortable in the heat. He took care of the music before starting the car. He waited to hit play before he shifted into reverse.

“Now we sing it.” He said, simply. She recognized the song as one of her favorites, one she listened to often while they flew, and she’d mouth along to the song.

It was easy enough to focus on the lyrics. She’d been mildly obsessed with the album when it first came out, just like everyone. Hole in one she thought. Even if it wasn’t a new song. For a moment she can stop thinking about her dream, and remember how it felt to drive around the base listening to the song.

At the end of the song Nicky hit replay, bringing her back to the car. Nicky more spoke than sang, his head bobbing along to the song.

“Did you know Frank Ocean before I played him for you?” She asked, rubbing a small circle on her temple to combat the headache she had been courting since she woke up, “I thought you were more into the 70s songs.”

“I looked up your Moon River. I think I like it more than the original.” Nicky shrugged, “I like all music. Lately I’ve been listening to that Irish man who sings like a fairy tale creature.”

It took her a moment to put it together, “Hozier?”

“I love his album,” he said simply.

“Yeah, his new one is great,” she said, propping her elbow against the window and rubbing her brow.

“New one?” Nicky asked, pointed.

“You gotta hear it,” She said, taking her phone back from him, and searching for NFWMB, she put it on and settled back in the seat.

“He’s a magical creature this one,” he said as the music built. It’s not her usual speed but she didn’t disagree. Although she doesn't know the words as well she sang along under her breath, trying not to compete with Hozier’s tones. Nicky had one of his half smiles on his face, and he looked like Andy does when she bites into a good pastry.

It takes a moment, and another, before she realized she can breathe easy again for the first time in hours. “Thanks.”

“Hmm,” Nicky picked up a water bottle and held it out to her, “it's hot here. Drink some water.”

It’s not until they get to Charminar that she noticed all of Nicky’s bruises had faded.

“I’m really surprised. He chewed you up like you were a bone.”

Nicky smirked that was the only word for it. They can see Charminar from a distance but he can’t drive up close, instead he circled around it and headed for Chowmahalla. The streets are a little more congested now with vendors and other cars. Ever so often Nicky tapped his horn. His usually strict obeyance of the marked roads being ignored in favor of cultural norms.

“What’s surprising about that? You know we love each other--”

“No, I mean, Andy jokes a lot about you two but besides being cuddly sleepers I’ve barely seen the two of you be touchy feely as long as I’ve known you. Hell I’ve seen frat brothers who are more cuddly.” Her head was still pounding, so she drank the water. It’s only been three months of immortality but Joe and Nicky have repeatedly regaled her with stories of starving or being dehydrated to death. Neither thing sounds fun.

“Ah yes, well. Privacy - in all of it’s glorious forms and lovely ways - can be hard to come by. It’s been more than four hundred years since she walked in on us but the law of averages state that it was inevitable. We like being alone when we show affection.” He stared wistfully out the window, tapping his horn lightly as he did so to let a motorist know to swerve out of the way, “of course when we’re alone…”

“Nope,” Nile lifted her hand, to her ear, holding the bottle to the other. The water swished comfortingly.

He waited until she dropped her hands before he continued, “we’ve spent centuries figuring out a multitude of ways to say I love you without making everyone around us uncomfortable. We’ve given up a lot of ourselves to be who we are, we do not want to give up each other.”

“Do you …” She trailed off for a second, mostly for dramatic purposes, “write all these sayings down or…”

Nicky shot her a grin, “don’t look in Joe’s notebooks.”

She lifted both of her hands in surrender.

He laughed, before looking at her again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed, looking out the window at a man who was offering up some sort of fried dough to people. The sun was rising in the skies and the streets were well and truly alive.

Her words came slowly, as they came she decided that what gets said in the honda, stayed in the honda. She felt more like she was visiting a priest at confessional than anything else. Nicky always had the energy that he was ready to forgive you and reassure you. He must’ve been a good priest.

“I was dreaming about Mumbai.” She muttered.

“It was hard,” Nicky said quickly, looking out the window again. He hadn’t died, Joe had, tossing himself in front of Andy on a job that was supposed to be easy.

“I dreamed I was back in that room, with all the guards I killed. They were all just sitting there. Staring.” A shiver shot down her spine at the thought of it.

“Ah, one of those dreams.” Nicky said with a nod. He gestured out the window at Chowmahallah and she just glanced past him. The structure seemed grand in the early morning darkness, Joe had already promised they’d explore.

“You have dreams like that? About the people you killed?” She wondered if the funerals were happening right now, half a country away. Sobbing wives and torn apart families.

“Of course.” he said with a shrug.

“Still?” She asked.

Nicky nodded, “They reassure me.”

“Nightmares about the people you’ve killed.” She said levelly. “Reassure you.”

“It reminds me that I’m still human. I haven’t had the same crisis of faith that Andy had. Not yet anyways. I’m not as old as her and I spend all my nights by the one I love. It’s easier for me to believe that I’m doing the right thing. Killing should never be an easy thing.”

He waited a second, before tilting his head to look at her, “I mean, it’s really easy to kill some of these people but you get what I mean.”

She nodded. It helped alleviate the pain just a bit.

By the time they get back to the hotel they’ve listened to all of Hozier’s latest album, and started on Nina Simone. Nile drank both water bottles at Nicky’s insistence and she felt like she was on the verge of exploding when they got back to the hotel.

Nicky waited for her by the toilet, and she can tell it’s because he knows she isn’t settled yet.

“Honestly Nicky, I’m fine,” She said, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Let’s get breakfast, I think I hear Joe in the dining room,” He said instead of addressing her reassurance.

Sure enough, Joe is leaning back, his arm thrown across the booth’s backrest, waiting for Nicky to slide in next to him. He has a pair of shades resting atop a cap on the table. Three bottles of water ready to go.

“I was wondering where my pants got to,” Joe said, and Nicky glanced down.

“Ah, so these are yours. No wonder they’re so loose in the thigh.”

“I’d take offence but I know how you feel about my thighs.”

Nicky looked at Nile before saying “He has amazing thighs.”

“Okay okay, I get it. Forget I even brought it up,” Nile said, taking the seat across from Joe. Because she’s looking for it she can see when Joe frowns ever so slightly at Nicky’s pale neck. Unmarked.

“She thinks we act like frat brothers sometimes,” Nicky said, Joe’s arm sliding off the chair and onto Nicky’s shoulders.

“The kind who are secretly fucking behind everyone’s backs?” Joe asked, taking the menu out of Nicky’s hands, “I ordered for you already, I know how you like dosas.”

“What are dosas?” Nile asked, desperate to get off the topic of their sex life.

“Ah, my darling, they’re a revelation. I ordered one for you as well.”

As promised, the dosas are a revelation. They take her to the Golconda Fort to show her how advanced the acoustics were. At the top they point out spots in the destroyed palace below where they’d secretly had sex when they were visiting Sultan Quli. By the end she’s laughing so hard she barely hates them for it. And the weight is finally gone.

Too many of them have been imprisoned to really want to try the capsule hotels. Nile tucked the thought away as something to do the next time she comes to Japan, because she knew that there would most likely be a next time.

“Besides,” Andy said as they laid down on their futons, “how often do you get to stay in a Minka farmhouse?”

Nile couldn’t deny that. It’s not a safehouse exactly - the owners are somehow connected to Nicky. No one quite explains why but a college age girl picked them up at Itami Airport, and brought them to the house just before darkness sank in the small valley south of the city. Andy showed her how to open the doors and explained the architectural history. Joe helpfully elaborated at points.

Japan had always been on the bucket list. Now she’s here and she won't even go sightseeing in Tokyo. Or feed deer in Nara. They have a narrow window of opportunity to get their target, they just have to lay low and rest up a bit first.

Nile tried counting the slats on the ceiling first, then she turned on her side and stared at a painting of a willow tree. She gave up counting all the branches - or rather she counted all the branches and realized that a second time wouldn’t help her either.

On her back she tucked her hand under her head, and decided instead that she should just give up on sleep. Just wait for everyone else to wake up.

“Nile,” Nicky’s voice was quiet, however she had no problem hearing it over the deep breathing of Andy and Joe. “Come on.”

Whatever Nicky wants to do is probably better than lying there and counting branches. She tried to move as quietly as he does, but he has a few years of practice on her. She doesn’t trip over anyone and that's a victory in itself.

Once they got outside, he set off down the road, to where the chestnut groves waved in the wind below the farmhouse.

“We’re going for a walk?”

“We have no car,” he said, turning around with his arms out wide, “come on, we’ll go grab coffee and breakfast for everyone.”

It’s easy enough to fall in step next to him. The moon was bright enough to guide their steps, even as they walked over thin bridges. She can't see what's in the ditch below. She can hear water tinkling.

“No nightmare tonight?” He asked.

She nodded before she realized he wasn’t looking at her, “No, just jetlag I think.”

“Jetlag is a new problem. I like having new problems.” He waited until she caught up with him, and tucked her arm in his before slipping his hand into his own pocket.

“Everyone can sleep at the drop of a hat,” She grumbled.

“It comes with time, like most things.” He looked up at the moon, before he nudged her with his elbow, “I used to not be able to sleep at all. After I died the first time. I’d spend all night laying on my bedroll under the moon, glaring at Joe and wondering if he was going to get up and kill me in the night. Then when I came to trust him, I didn’t stop watching him all night.”

“Sap,” she said, nudging him back. After six months and a few more late night drives she’s begun to color in his personality. Their early history is still more questions than answers.

“You’re not wrong. I was halfway in love with him before I even noticed. The night after he kissed me for the first time I slept like a rock. In the morning he worried that kissing me unlocked some spell and I was dead until I let out a snore.”

“That's sweet,” she looked up at the moon, “star crossed lovers who can finally sleep after they kiss for the first time.”

“Apparently he spent the whole night watching me sleep, afraid he’d crossed the line and I’d abandon him in the dark.”

“Romance novels should be written about it.” Nile stumbled over a branch, but Nicky kept her upright.

“I tried my hand at it once.” Nicky admitted.

“You did not!” Nile is torn between saying can I read it and never show it to me.

“I did, I went through a phase, in the 90’s, that would be the 1990s, where I couldn’t stop reading trashy romance novels.”

“I can’t imagine you reading romance novels.” Nile said, stepping onto the pavement on the far side of the little valley they crossed.

“There was a time where I hated reading. I only knew Latin to read the Bible, and whatever I needed to know to get by. Then books became easier to print, and suddenly all of these trashy rags were showing up, and I was obsessed. I went through a phase of popular literature in the late 1800s, then dime novels in the first half of the 1900s. And the best part is once you’re done you don't have to keep the books. Booker would always give me a bag whenever we reunited.”

The mention of Booker gives her a quick and sadly familiar stab in her heart. She knows they’ll see him again, despite only knowing him for a day she missed him. She checked in occasionally with a text or an email whenever she could get away with it. “I can’t imagine that either.”

“Joe prefers the snobbier things, he’s always been better at languages than me. This is the one regard where he has more patience than me as well. Booker would have a bag for him as well.” Nicky nudged a chestnut off the road, sent it tumbling down the hill into the trees.

Nile thought about it for a moment, trying to pick her words carefully. She knew her day with Booker couldn’t compare to 200 years, or the sharp stab of betrayal. “He’s going to have boxes for you when you reunite.”

Nicky chuckled, “That he will. Joe will pretend to be mad then demand Booker’s attention for as long as he can talk about sports for.”

“It’s interesting, the way that --” She shook her head, “nevermind.”

“How we all have our particular common interests with each other?” He wiggled his hands, “we have our inside jokes or routines.”

“It makes me wonder how I’m going to fit in. How I fit now, how I’ll fit in a hundred years.” She saw a chestnut drop out of a tree, and like Nicky, nudged it back onto the grass, “I think I want that.”

“You mean, for example, if everytime you couldn’t sleep you went on a drive with one of your family members.”

Nicky kept walking, even as Nile let go of his arm, he stopped a couple feet away and looked back at her.

“This isn’t a common interest.” She said, “I thought this was just you trying to get me to have less nightmares.”

“How do you know that I haven’t been trying to go on drives in the middle of the night and listen to sad music for years? Besides that’s what all friendships are, trying to help friends with their problems.” He lifted his arms and kept walking backwards, she started to match his steps, “you spar with Andy because you’re the only one who doesn’t pull your punches anymore.”

“Yeah and she still kicks my ass,” she grumbled.

“You text Booker when you think no one is looking.” He added. And she very nearly tripped again.

“No I don’t!”

“You’re a bad liar, and we’ll work on that.”

“No I am not! I’m a great liar,” Nile sped up just to ram her shoulder into Nicky’s. He spun around, smoothly dropping an arm over her shoulders.

“We have all eternity. We’ll develop routines and we’ll get bored of them. We’ll have so many inside jokes we won’t be able to remember them all. It’s the law of averages, and a matter of time.”

“A matter of time before you all piss me off,” she muttered.

“That too.” Nicky squeezed her shoulders to his side, and let her go. “Andy goes on her little breaks from us, Booker used to disappear for days. You’ll develop a time where you need to be alone. We also all have the things we like to do alone, without anyone around. Even me and Joe.”

“You and Joe don’t split up,” she pointed out, not sure what she was trying to say.

“No we don’t, but usually when Andy and Booker disappear it’s because they’re horny. And typically when he’s horny is when I can’t get him to stop watching me talk.” Nicky said, his grin almost devilish in the early morning light.

“I really regret ever saying the frat brothers thing. I want you to know that.”

He chuckled and led her around the corner, a brightly lit store beckoned them. The cashier just starting his day.

“A 7-11?” Nile shot Nicky a look, “Really?”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised.”

They grabbed a few items, Nicky taking the lead in making decisions and suggesting things she’d like. They grab eight cans of iced coffee and go to the register. Nicky leaned forward before she could hand her money to the cashier to whisper in Spanish put the money in the tray, it’s rude to hand it over directly. Like a robot she lowered the yen onto the tray, and pushed it across the narrow counter.

They both cracked open a can of coffee on the way back. Sipping carefully as they step through the grove.

“I don’t have a thing with Joe.” Nile finally pointed out. Trying to think of something she did with Joe that didn’t involve everyone. They watched a lot of trashy TV together but usually Andy or Nicky joined them.

“You’ll develop a thing with Joe.” Nicky took a swig of his coffee, “he likes you. He thinks you two will be the best of friends.”

“I like him too.” She nudged Nicky’s shoulder with her own, “I like you too. I only make my closest friends playlists.”

“Aww, you made a playlist?” Nicky held his hand over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“Yeah, I was going to say we should listen to it tonight but there was no car.”

“Next time then.”

When Joe and Nicky ride in a car, they never sit together. Nile figured it was because they had an uncanny way of always being a part of a unit, but always wanting to make sure everyone around them felt loved. It was endearing.

It’s somehow worse to sit in the passenger seat and look back to see Joe staring lovingly at Nicky’s ears.

“Please stop.” Nile said, turning her face towards the empty streets of Moscow.

“I’m not doing anything.” Joe lied, terribly she would like to add.

“You know exactly what -- wait is that the Pushkin?” She asked. Nicky’s eyes slid over, and he shrugged.

Joe on the other hand shifted in the back to the center seat and leaned forward, “Nile, you know The Pushkin?”

Nile shifted in her seat facing Joe, “Of course, I’ve got a list of major art museums I want to visit and The Pushkin has been on it forever. I want to see if they still have the Byzantine Tiles, I read about them in an outdated art book in high school.”

“The last time we went there all they had was the tiles. Nicky does not appreciate them--”

“Why do we have to see the tiles in the museum when we saw them on the floors of homes when we were young?” Nicky butt in.

“He goes to these places to make me happy, but he mostly likes to appreciate art in context, rather than in a museum.”

“It’s better in context,” Nicky added.

“Well, my love, Nile wasn’t around to see them in context now was she?” Joe said, leaning forward to push a kiss to the back of Nicky’s head. Nicky’s response was to flap a hand back and say Not while I’m driving.

“Can we go later? After the job?”

“Of course, I’d love to. I can tell you all about how they looked in the day, and Nicky can miss out on a bunch of art because he’d rather wait until we break into a rich person’s home to stop them from committing crimes to see it.”

“Sometimes we hang out with artists too!” Nicky said. “I feel like there’s an attack on my character. I like art.”

Nile twisted in her seat settling back down to watch the road and ignoring Nicky, “I can’t wait.”

“This is… “ Nicky trailed off, letting the beat rise and the song wrap up, before he finished “a truly fantastic playlist.”

“Thank you,” Nile said, smiling and starting the playlist over.

They only have motorbikes in Hai Phong. They wear helmets more to protect their identity than out of concern for safety.

If Nile was telling the truth; the best part of the drives is seeing a city asleep, talking with Nicky, and listening to soft music. She went into the bike ride thinking one out of three wasn’t too bad.

Instead she found herself having a religious experience. Zipping over water ways with her arms spread out wide, feeling the sea air wrap around her as Nicky pushed the bike to it’s limit. They work their way out of the city, just for the thrill of seeing the coast, the mountains spearing out of the water, and working their way back to the motel.

He has Joe’s jacket on, and the old leather feels impossibly soft under her hands when she bothered to hold onto his shoulders. The smell of the sea, and the sight of fishing boats make her smile, even as soon as she’s seen them they’ve disappeared behind the tall pillars that surround the bay.

It’s exhilarating, and it made her feel more alive than she had since she died.

Outside the gas station, Nicky sat on the bike eating a popsicle. Nile had gotten her own, its a fruit flavor she can’t identify, and faintly remembers a horchata flavored gelato she had in Rome. The flavor haunted her until Joe told her what it was.

“My life has gotten very weird lately.” She said apropos of nothing.

“I think the first years are always the weirdest. The world changed overnight for you. Someday you’ll look back on your old life and wonder how you made the decisions you did.” Nicky said, taking a studious lick of his popsicle.

“It’s like I’m in mourning. But I’m the only one who has died.” Nile caught a drip before it fell onto her hand, licking it up, “how can I mourn myself?”

“I think it’d be odder if you didn’t mourn.” Nicky tossed his popsicle stick into the garbage, shifting back onto the bike. “From what I hear Nile Freeman was quite an amazing person with a lovely family, and a great future ahead of her. An artist I know said she’s extremely talented.”

Nile went over to the garbage, tossing the popsicle in after Nicky’s. “He’s just saying nice things to you about your friends because he wants to sleep with you.”

“It worked,” Nicky said, pulling his helmet back down.

She has more questions. She wants to ask if Nicky mourned Nicolò, or if he still prayed like she still prayed. She set them aside for another night. And gave this night over to the glory of motorcycles.

Nile studied the wall of neatly stacked notebooks, her fingers itching to see some of Joe’s art. She knew to sort through the stacks on her own was to bring disaster on her head. She finished getting dressed with her back to the notebooks.

Andy had snapped at them all two days earlier Stop hovering! Which segued into her saying that if she actually was still the boss (which she was, undoubtedly) then Nicky and Joe had to take Nile to a safe house and lay low for a while.

The safe house they chose was one Andy didn’t know the particulars about but suspects existed. She needs to feel like she doesn’t know where we are. She’ll know, Joe explained as Nile lifted her duffle bag off the conveyor belt at Genoa Cristoforo Colombo Airport. The car ride back to the small apartment was mostly Nicky explaining in spanish all the different famous Genoese people who would’ve been a better pick.

While Nile’s spanish had definitely improved in leaps and bounds over the last year, she still struggled with understanding Nicky sometimes. Usually because he hit the arabic words strewn throughout the language harder than he should’ve. Joe once explained that it was because Nicky had learned more dialects from the Maghreb before Spain even existed. Even how they spoke was a map of history. She can catch most of what his diatribe is about, even if she has to look at Joe every so often for a mouthed clarification.

The apartment itself was comfortable. The long thin couch in the library spoke more than Nicky and Joe’s easy welcoming: this wasn’t going to be a place they brought other people. The second bedroom was a repository for books, art, poetry and an eclectic collection of weapons instead of a guest room.

The wall of weapons distracted her the most before she showered. She found herself thinking about what she’d collect. Maybe how in a thousand years she’d have an apartment on the lake in Chicago, filled with her own art and hidden stories.

The thought makes her hurt, just a tiny bit. So she abandoned the room and walked into the living room.

Joe was tucked away in the kitchen, the clattering of pans and dishes told her that dinner was going to be an ancient Italian dish. Joe mostly cooked what Nicky liked (when he wasn’t cooking what the rest of the little family liked) and Nicky exclusively cooked North African dishes. When she brought it up to Andy, Andy smiled and said Yeah, they’re just close frat brothers.

Nicky on the other hand is going through the stack of packages that had been in the entranceway. Opening each one carefully and sorting them into piles of books, small items, clothes, and records. His hair is wet and spiked up from hands being run through it. For her own sanity she assumed his own.

“What's all this?” She asked, settling down next to the records.

“We send things we want here, if we’re on a dangerous job and we can’t take things with us, or if it’s outgrown its use but nostalgia demands we keep it. As you can see we’ve gotten a bit out of hand lately.”

“You got your crusader armor tucked away somewhere?” She asked, picking up the stack of records.

“No, Joe ruined all my armor trying to kill me,” Nicky said, opening a box to find two notebooks and a book. He separated them into piles, and picked up the next box.

“These records,” She said, her heart warming, “they’re all …” She trailed off holding up the Nina Cried Power EP.

“You have good taste in music,” Nicky said absentmindedly, studying a statue. He twisted in his seat and held it up, speaking rapidly in a language she almost didn’t catch, before she realized Andy had marked it for her as an ancient dialect of Tounsi.

Joe’s head appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, his curls glistening wet as well. He responded and shot a smile towards Nile, “The shower in there was okay? We just had repairs done on it.”

“Yeah, it was perfect,” she said, continuing to pick through the records as Nicky set the statue down on the coffee table with some other small pieces of art from around the globe, “the tile in there is beautiful. How long have you guys had this place?”

Nile was training herself not to show shock at the pure number of years that they had things, the complicated ways they held onto them. But she couldn’t help blinking when Nicky said “Three years.”

Three years ago she was alive, she was on break throwing shots back in a River North Club wearing a dress that was too tight with an intent to have it on someone’s floor by the end of the night. A rare night where she let her guard down and just tried to have fun instead of being the responsible one.

“Three years?”

“Andy kept talking about taking a break. We wanted to have all of our stuff in the same place. Our safe house in Tunisia we like to keep more sparse.” Nicky shrugged, “it’d been awhile since we’d been here. We figured the symmetry would be nice. Spend more time in Tunisia but keep all our stuff in Genoa.”

“We hired some people to do the work right about when we went to Morocco to start the Merrick job.” Joe added, before a timer beeped and he disappeared again.

“Wow, so not everything is ancient and eternal with you guys?”

Nicky smiled, taking the record out of her hands and leaning over to put it on the player. “I’m glad that the kids are obsessed with these things, it makes it easier not to have to replace everything every five years.”

He pushed a stack of books towards her, “Can you go put this on Joe’s desk in the library? It’s the neater one. While you’re in there pick a dagger you want to practice with later.”

She came back, setting the dagger on the table next to the small collection of art. Nicky set a beaded bracelet on the blade, and kept opening packages. Leon Bridges sang softly out of the old gramophone that looked like it shouldn’t be able to play something new.

“Put on another record,” Nicky said, as the record drew to a close.

“How old were you when you died?” She asked, studying the collection before her.

“Er,” he set the record he was holding down, looking up to think, “I was born in the Year of Our Lord 1069-”

“Your lord.” Joe butted in from the kitchen as Nile choked back a laugh.

“What's so funny?” Nicky asked.

“You know…” She trailed off, realizing the jetlag might be affecting her more than she thought. Afterall that morning she’d been in Chile, or was it the night before?

“The kids these days find the number 69 funny,” Joe leaned against the door frame, and followed the statement with something in Tounsi that had Nicky blushing. Nile couldn’t help bursting into laughter at the exchange.

“I was thirty. I died in 1099--” Nicky tried to push through.

“We died in 493, I was thirty-three,” Joe interrupted again, smirking down at Nicky. Nile could only see the back of his head.

“I thought it was 492,” Nicky said, which sparked a conversation of how the calendar worked that sounded more like bickering than reasonable discussion. Nicky followed Joe into the kitchen as Nile picked a record off the shelf. Dinah Washington, good music for sitting around. She put it on and studied the room.

Across the wall there was a wall of pencil and charcoal sketches. It didn't take her long to realize that Nicky was in all of them, thankfully clothed. Usually just his back as he looked out at a stunning landscape, or walked in a crowded market. There was one where he had bad bed hair and was sitting next to a stack of hay, a girl’s head poking out of a hole with her hands curled over the lip of the entrance, a ladder ending next to her. It was both timeless and ancient all at once. It could be in a stable in England during the 1800s, or the 1100s in Greece, she wouldn’t know unless she asked. If the story was worth telling she’d hear it eventually.

She realized as the music lifted that the bickering had stopped, she stood up, crossing the living room to the doorway. Joe had his arms wrapped around Nicky’s waist, Nicky’s arms folded behind Joe’s neck. They were swaying slow and speaking softly to each other. I Remember You floated between them.

Warmth spread throughout her. Nile felt like a child staying at her favorite uncles’ house, witnessing them in a soft quiet moment. She turned away, let them have their quiet moment as she returned to the record collection.

It was the lab again, her mother and her brother stretched out by terrifying tools of torture. They’re not alone. Nicky, Joe, Andy, and Booker are there. None of them heal, the scoops of flesh come out of them and they stay gaping wounds, ready to --

She doesn’t make a sound. Her eyes snap open and she’s awake. Far away from the lab. On a sagging bed in a no tell motel off Route 66, somewhere in Arizona. She sat up, listening to the creak of her bed and wondering if it hadn't been replaced since the 60s, like the bathroom.

It’d been awhile since she had such a particularly dark nightmare. Usually she had glimpses and collages, items that swirled together to leave her feeling uneasy when she woke. In the glow of the street lights through the cigarette burned blackout curtains, she can see Andy sleeping propped on a chair (No you take the bed, I prefer sleeping upright) next to an full ashtray that none of them had used. When she looked over at the next bed she already knew what she’d see.

“Another nightmare?” Nicky asked, his voice low, he was sitting up, Joe’s arm draped over his lap.

Nile nodded.

“Well let’s go then,” Nicky said, leaning over to whisper to Joe who just grunted at him and turned towards the wall. Nile grabbed the keys off the table next to the ashtray, handing them over to Nicky as they stepped out the door.

“Are we getting you someone to warm your bed?” Nicky asked, as he had dozens of times at that point.

“Not tonight,” Nile said, feeling comfortable in the routine.

“A tour then.”

With her feet up on the dash and her seatbelt on they started driving back in the countryside, towards Las Vegas where they’d landed earlier that day.

“We’re going gambling? It’ll take us all night to get there,” Nile said, flipping through her music. Nicky had gone on a brief and terrifying Country kick that had fed into Americana. Both of which she’d been able to navigate because of fellow marines than actual interest. They’d wandered back into comfortable waters of 90s slow jams. Thank you Sheryl Crow.

“No, I have something else in mind. Are we going to talk about it tonight or do you want to pick up where we left off following illogic as it were?” Nicky asked.

“I dunno, I’d rather you finish that story about being in Granada right before Ferdinand and Isabella kicked the door down.”

By the time the story wrapped up, they were deep in the desert. Nicky never managed to slow down quite in time for the cow guards, making both of them bounce in their seat. Joe’s clever use of poetry to get them out of tricky situations while Quynh pretended not to know spanish to gather intel had her laughing.

When the laughter trailed off, and just the sound of One Headlight drifted through the car, Nile felt ready.

“I think it was seeing the McDonalds across from Starbucks.” She started. Used to this routine as well, Nicky waited for her to finish. “I’d been doing really good, not thinking about what it would be like to go home. The work is important, I know its important. Sometimes I…. anyways. Then I saw a McDonalds across from a Starbucks and I just got homesick. Then I had the lab dream again.”

“I’m sorry, that must be terrible.” Nicky reached out and patted her kneecap. “It’s why we weren’t sure if we should take this job.”

“It’s been over a year and a half--” She started.

“So? It took me five years to mourn my previous life and I didn’t even like my life.”

“I thought it was because Joe kissed you.” Nile rolled her head to give him a look, which didn’t matter as he kept his eyes on the road.

“That was a part of it. We’d also just saved a family from being murdered. I think it was more like...” he paused lifting his hand to point at his head, “It just clicked. I wasn’t Nicolò di Genova anymore. Or I wasn’t only him anymore. I accepted my fate was to spend the rest of my life walking around with Yusuf saving people.”

“So I just gotta accept my fate and I won’t have nightmares anymore?” She said dryly.

“No. You’ve got to let yourself mourn, and then you’ll feel more comfortable in your skin. We’ve been busy since we found you and you’ve thrown yourself into one distraction after another. There’s only so long you can avoid your feelings.”

“Well I have eternity.” She muttered.

“You don’t want to spend it miserable.” Nicky pointed out.

“I’m going to outlive, not only everyone I know, but the language I speak, the country I was born in, I’ll probably outlive Starbucks. How am I supposed to just …” Nile sat up, letting her feet hit the floor, “I don't know, I’ve already accepted it. Like you said, maybe it hasn’t clicked yet.”

“It’ll click, Nile. It’ll click. Don’t worry about the things you’ll outlive, you’ll be surprised what sticks around. I told a fellow priest that building a new Cathedral in Genoa was silly, and that is still standing. Just know that they’ll all live on in your heart.”

“Sap,” she said.

“You know what Hemingway says, there’s two deaths, when you die and when people stop talking about you. Everything that has ever mattered to you will live on in you, and it won't be the same as walking into a Starbucks, or more importantly like talking to your mother.” Nicky tapped his nose, “I know we’re not just talking about Starbucks.”

Nile felt the tear roll down her face, fat and determined to be obvious. She felt the second one join the first. “I know she’s still alive and I already miss her so much. I wish I could just talk to her one more time. Route 66 ends in Chicago you know, I could just drive up there and see her. One more time.”

“I know, I know, Nile,” Nicky reached out over the divide and wrapped his arm around her. She twisted, the tears coming faster than she could handle, and sobbed into his shoulder. “There’s no rulebook. We went to Yusuf’s mother when she was on her deathbed. Andy was worshipped as a god by her people because she stuck around. If you want to say goodbye to your mother we can make it happen.”

“She thinks I’m dead,” she tried to say, muffled by the thin hoodie he wore.

“It’s an option. No one can stop you, and Copley can cover your tracks. Whatever you want to do we’ll stand by you because we’re family now too.”

Nicky kept one hand on the wheel, and the other wrapped around her shoulder. She noted that now he slowed down for the cow guards, as they drove even deeper into the desert.

It all spilled out then, the injustices of their situation, where she was so happy she could help but she was giving up so much for it. All the bodies she’d step over, and the many more yet that weren’t even born. Booker being alone. Andy not healing. All of the things she’d been keeping her mouth shut about for months. Until there was nothing left to do but cry.

She only looked up when Nicky put the car in park.

“What?” she asked, sitting up, “Are we back at the hotel?”

“No, come on, I have something to show you.”

There was no brightly lit convenience store to raid snacks for the morning. Just more dirt and scrub trees. She followed his footsteps, looking up at the sky. A blanket of stars was disappearing slowly with the rising sun.

Nicky stopped, and she nearly walked into him. “Wait a second.”

She didn’t need to, she could already see that they were on the lip of the Grand Canyon, a steep drop opened up the world. As the sun rose she could see the reds and browns of the canyon come to life, an ancient glory just sitting alone in the desert.

“Have you ever seen it in person?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“When I was born, this was here. And I only found it while Joe and I happened to be on a trip heading to Oregon. It was here the whole time. And it’ll most likely be here after I’m gone. And you too.”

Nile wiped her cheek, and stared out across the expanse. She had no words.

“There’s going to be beautiful things that you don’t know exist that you’ll stumble across. And everytime you go there, you’ll be taking every person you saved there. In the last hundred years man has gone into outer space and a hundred before that they went to Antarctica for the first time. I haven’t been to either of those places yet, but you probably will soon.”

Nicky wrapped his arm around her shoulders and continued, “I’m not saying it won’t be hard. It will be. It’ll be bloody. You’ll die more than you think is possible. You’ll befriend people and outlive them. You’ll be sad, you’ll be lonely, you’ll be a hundred thousand things I can’t really name right now. But you’re going to be witness to some amazingly beautiful things. They’re out there waiting for you to find them, Nile.”

Nile sniffed, using her sleeve to wipe her face again. She wrapped her arms around Nicky’s waist, squeezing him tight. “Thanks for showing me this Nicky.”

“No problem,” He patted her shoulder. “It was easier to get here this time. And hopefully you won't get pushed in like Joe.”

She let go of him, and laughed. “Sorry I know I shouldn’t laugh, he died probably but man, what a story.”

“Yeah, let’s look around and then I’ll tell you on the drive back.”

Nicky started the story as he pulled back onto the road, but Nile wasn’t sure how it ended. The next thing she knew she heard the beeping of a key left in the ignition when the doors were open.

“Be gentle -- she hasn’t been sleeping much.” Nicky said. She opened her eyes, and saw that he was standing, the door open and his head cut off from her view by the roof of the car. A drink tray full of Starbucks cups sat on the dash.

“I know,” came Joe’s voice, and her door was being opened. She tried to take off her seatbelt, Joe beat her to it, and then he was lifting her as easily as if she was a bag of chips. His arm behind her back, and under her knees.

“I’m awake,” she muttered, shifting into his shoulder, letting her head drop on his olive green t-shirt.

“No you aren’t. You got two more hours to sleep before we get going and sleep you will.”

“What time is it?” She asked, no one answered her.

“It’s sleepy o’clock. Now rest up.”

With no other options, she did.

It’s nature that woke her, a deep insistent need to get rid of all the tea she’d drank while they explored the city. They sprang for a suite as the job required them settling in for a bit. Two rooms and a pull out couch that Andy claimed as she dropped into it and flicked on the TV. The bathroom was in the hallway, close to her door. She made a break for it. Only on the way back to her room she realized that the light was on in the kitchen.

“Andy?” she asked, pulling down the sleeves of the hoodie she wore to bed as she shuffled towards the main room.

Andy’s bed was empty, a cluster of blankets off to one side. Nicky stood at the kitchen counter starting at the Toronto skyline, one hand curled around a beer, and the other propping him up against the counter.

“Nicky?” Nile asked.

He seemed to finally register that she was there, lifting a brow to turn towards her, “oh, Andy went to break into the rooftop pool.”

“Figures,” Nile said, rubbing her sleeved hands together. Nicky nodded and didn’t add anything. His beer had a circle of liquid around the base, but no condensation clinging to the vessel. As if he’d been standing there for a long time, “you alright bud?”

It took him a moment to register that she spoke to him again, he put on the slightest of smiles as if he was trying to reassure her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... “ he shook his head and looked out the window, “not tired.”

Nile looked at the window before looking back at him. Whatever this mood was she didn’t particularly like it. “Alright, a drive then.”

“Oh you had a nightmare?” Nicky said, genuine concern on his face.

“No, but you’re scaring me. You don’t have to talk about what's on your mind. You clearly have something. We can just go and listen to that one song you like so much.”

The slight tilt of his mouth returned, honest this time, “you’re very perceptive, Nile.”

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

She didn’t let him deejay, instead putting on the song she knew he liked, hoping he’d sing along, instead he just continued to stare out the window. They both were still in their pajamas, her plaid pants marked “Heathrow” and him in grey sweatpants. They both had hoodies pulled on that had been belated christmas gifts from Andy that they’d gotten in May.

“Ain’t it funny how some people pop into your head so easily” Nicky mostly said in tune with the beat before turning to Nile, “that's the reason why I like this song you know. A thousand years and people have a way of reappearing in your thoughts. I like to think he’s singing about an old friend.”

“I thought it was just the country energy you liked.” Nile said, trying to figure out where to drive them. Nicky made it seem so easy. She figured circles might be the best bet.

“No, all of the songs I like it’s because they have one line where I feel it,” he held his hand up to his heart, “here.”

She nodded, that made enough sense, he always sang along with one or two lines of songs that made it into the permanent rotation. “Is there a song you want to listen to?”

“No, I just wish some people wouldn’t pop into my head so easily.” Nicky said, hitting replay on the song.

“Is this about Booker?” She asked. She knew Nicky and Joe were about equally still annoyed with him.

“No, this person predates Booker by a few centuries.” Nicky shifted in his seat, “Do you know that one song. Where the man sounds like he’s about to cry?”

“That’s half of the songs we listen to Nicky,” she handed her phone and the aux cord over to him.

He found what he was looking for, or what he was okay with settling with. Nicky started asking her if she’d ever been to Toronto, as she seemed to know where she was going. The conversation tilted from there, sliding down a slope of cities in Canada that Nicky had been to and Nile wanted to see someday.

“We could drive to Montreal I suppose.” Nicky looked out the window, towards the rising sun.

“We could, but Andy might kill us.”

Nicky nodded, still looking out the window as she turned towards the hotel.

“Today at dinner, you saw the baby at the table next to us? All gums, no teeth yet?” Nicky said, his voice quiet.

“Cute kid, those curls. He kept smiling for the camera whenever his grandma pulled out her phone, even when she was just texting.”

“Yeah,” Nicky let out a huff of air that could’ve been a laugh, he wasn’t facing her so she wasn't sure “He looked like the first child Joe and I fostered.”

Silence rang out in the car for a moment, she gave the back of Nicky’s head a quick look. “Oh? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” Nicky said, “I do want to get Tim Hortons.”

“Sure,” Nile had passed a Tim Hortons a few blocks back, and she found it easy enough to redirect towards it. “Whenever you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Nicky hummed, leaning his head against the window.

“And then I’ll carry him with me when I inevitably outlive you. And his Hemmingway death will never happen, because I can tell other immortals.” She cleared her throat, she was aiming for reassuring with an edge of joking. The same way that Joe frequently reassured and she found bolstering herself. “Around our spaceship fire or something.”

She chanced a look towards Nicky again. He was twisted and leaning against the window, looking at her with blue eyes that shined a little in the early morning light, and one of his half smiles.

“Just food for thought.” She said, pulling into the Tim Hortons parking lot, “Alright, now get …. What everyone wants. And a crueller for me, and coffee.”

Nicky arched a brow at her.

“What? Go practice your Canadian.” Nile leaned forward on the wheel, “In all actuality I’m wearing my pajamas.”

Nile watched Nicky shake his head but follow her orders into the Tim Hortons.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this immortality thing,” she told the empty car, and nodded to herself.

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky,” Joe said, shaking his head with a wide grin, “how could you torture those poor people like that?”

“I’m going to jump out the window,” Nile informed Andy.

“Now none of them will ever feel peace again. No moment shall ever compare to your stunning grace, your lithe form --”

“Lithe?” Andy interjected, patting Nile on the back she made gagging noises. Nicky sat on the stool in the kitchen, leaning over the counter, his hand wrapped around his black coffee. From the shake of his shoulders Nile strongly suspected he was laughing.

“-- your absolute beauty. No one could recover from seeing you in grey sweatpants. I should’ve never bought them for you --”

“All you do is make me wear these sweatpants.” Nicky pointed out.

“-- I bet you had your hood up too, how could they -- There’s nothing to be done for it now. Come along I’ll take them off you before they can hurt anyone else.” Joe said, beckoning Nicky towards their bedroom.

“I miss my life before they were in it,” Andy informed Nile, as Nicky waved off Joe.

Laughing, Nile nodded. Although now she couldn’t imagine life without any of them. Immortality was beginning to seem a lot easier.