#Nicky's quest to not blow away in the wind

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

new goal: run faster than a preschooler

[high-tidethunder]

even oaks must bend

Joe has to leave the safehouse. He can’t deal with the look on Andy’s face, the desperation in her eyes that mirrors that of a wild animal about to be dealt a death blow.

The idea is stifling, forces his breath from his lungs in quick, shallow beats that come ragged from his throat, out of sync with the erratic rhythm of his heart in a way that makes him feel dizzy, unbalanced. It flits through his mind that he, too, feels like a wild animal, that Andy’s request is a rock hurled at him with the force of a great beast and all he can do is watch.

Because how could he say no? How could he tell a woman who’s friendship had lasted nearly a millennium, a woman who was the most vulnerable she had ever been, a woman who was hiding all her despair in her eyes and showing none of it on her face, that he would not help her keep a promise she had feared would be broken forever?

The problem is that the price of saying yes weighs heavy on his heart and he’s not sure how easily he can pay it. Not when it was the betrayal of the one he’d be paying it to that had caused him the worst wounds of his centuries on this earth.

He has seen his own flesh rended so many times, stood up and seen pieces of himself strewn on the ground and known himself still to be whole, taken so much injury and kept going, and maybe, in the beginning, it had been hard to forget these moments but as time carried ever onward it became...ordinary.

But these wounds—

He may no longer feel them, and there is no mark on his skin as proof they happened, but he remembers the pain.

More than that, he remembers the terror, that it was ice cold, how it spread through him with each new level of depravity their captors had reached until it was entrenched in his bones. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to rip it out.

He thinks that these wounds might just be the ones that do him in, despite the years that have passed since they’d been inflicted.

He can hear Nicky calling for him over the cacophony of his thoughts and stops in his tracks, the gravel garden path of this safehouse shifting under him, and he notices that the air is sharp and cold. It bites his lungs with each breath, desperate things that come in staccato waves and sting the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten more with each inhale, though whether it’s from the cold or the panic he can’t tell.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and leans into the touch, though his mind still races and heart still pounds, he feels his muscles uncoil, the tension fading as Nicky loops his arms around his waist, careful to slip them under Joe’s where they hang at his sides and rests his head on his shoulder.

«Breathe, love,» he whispers. The Arabic falls from his tongue like leaves in an autumn wind, gentle and susurrus, and Joe sinks into him. He lets his shoulders go loose, tries to match the rise and fall of Nicky’s chest with shuddering breaths until his head no longer swims and his pulse steadies. Something they’ve had to learn how to do for one another, over the years, since the first night of sleep that had been shattered by screaming after a dream contorted into a memory.

He’d love to say it’s gotten easier with time. Remembering.

They’re not sure how long they let the silence sit in the air, a placid kind of silence, muted by the surrounding forest and the mist that rolls off the nearby lake, but it’s comfortable. A necessary quiet, one that allows the men to think, to compose themselves and their thoughts before having to step back out into the world.

«I don’t know how to face him,» Joe admits, voice quiet, thick. «I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive him for—» he swallows through the tightness in his throat and blinks the glassiness from his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

He doesn’t need to.

«Yusuf,» Nicky says, and his voice sounds so full of pain, and worry, and love that Joe is afraid he’s about to shatter, «I know, love,» his voice goes rough and he buries his face in Joe’s neck where it slopes into his shoulder. «I know. Some things are not so easily forgotten.» He takes a breath, brings a hand up so that it sits over Joe’s heart, and Joe finds himself instinctually bringing his own hand to Nicky’s, lacing their fingers together. «So we do not bring forgiveness, we don’t call it that. But we do this anyways. We do this for Quynh because we couldn’t before.»

“Work with someone we don’t want to eat with?” Joe asks with a small smile, the favorite proverb of Andy’s tripping from his tongue in reluctant English, and Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Yes, work with someone we don’t want to eat with.”

They fall quiet again, only for a moment, before Joe takes a breath and settles back into the language of his far-gone youth. «Maybe one day we’ll want to eat with him again.»

Nicky stills behind him. «I hope so.»

~*~

When they tell Andy they’ll do it, she looks like the weight of the world has lifted from her shoulders.

~*~

They land at Charles de Gaulle and Joe’s skin prickles, too close to the old safehouse for any measure of comfort. He glances at Nicky and sees the same anxiety written on his face, the shadow cast by his hood seeming to darken the expression so it reads like a thundercloud about to crack. He reaches over, wraps an arm around Nicky’s shoulders, and pulls him close, the line of contact between their torsos the only part of him that buzzes with something other than apprehension. Nicky looks at him, a small, tight smile adorning his face for a split second before it falls flat, and Joe’s heart aches.

«We’re safe, my heart,» he whispers, and Nicky’s shoulders drop. The movement is small enough that it would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t memorized the lines of his body in a way intent upon worship, the way a priest memorizes scripture, but to Joe, it sings of relief.

When he looks to the women again, the sympathy and worry on Nile’s face is so raw and open that it hurts, and he has to cut his eyes away to not break where he stands.

~*~

The sidestreets are dead silent compared to the bustle of downtown, letting both ease and worry simmer in Joe’s bones as they pass only occasional pedestrians on their walk to the address Copley had given them. It’s a small apartment, part of a stonework building that’s likely just as old as Booker himself and a part of Joe wonders if he’d chosen it for the familiarity. A bigger part of him finds that it still hurts to care.

Nile steps forward and knocks on the door with a steady hand and Joe feels himself tense, as if he were heading into battle rather than seeing an old friend.

Maybe he is, though. Whatever lies ahead won’t be pretty, and it certainly won’t be painless, but it has to be done. The way it’s been for every battle he’s fought.

It’s not a thought he has much time to mull over before Booker opens the door, looking run-down but not worse for wear as Joe had suspected he might. His eyes land on Nile first and fear shoots through them.

“She’s not—” he begins to ask, the tremor in his voice another thing Joe wishes he could just not care about. He guesses he should be grateful it doesn’t take long for Booker to see Andy and sigh away the tension in his shoulders.

“You’re not rid of me yet, Book,” she says, voice soft but tight, and steps around Nile to pull him in for a hug. Joe has to look away to keep the pain that’s fisted around his heart from tightening. After a moment, Andy steps back, one hand still on Booker’s shoulder. He looks at the group, gaze lingering too long on the crumbling brick of the wall behind Joe and Nicky.

“Just Nile I might understand,” he starts, cutting his eyes to the youngest immortal, “but why are you all here? Ninety years premature, not even a heads up from Copely, what is it you’re trusting me with and not him?” he asks, the question infused with a wry laugh.

“Well, I don’t have ninety years.” Andy says, matter-of-fact, “And let’s be clear, I’m still pissed at you, but what I do have is a promise to keep and a lead on Quynh. And you have penance to pay so you’re going to help us follow it.”

Booker stares at Andy for a second, then steps back from the doorway and motions the group in.

He doesn’t make eye contact, as they enter. Joe can’t tell if he wishes he would.

~*~

They’re spread around what little space is available in Booker’s cramped apartment, every surface not occupied by a body is holding atlases from the past 5 centuries, seafloor maps as old as they could find, and any old mariner’s record Andy had figured might help them in their quest. Andy holds onto the copies of the diary pages she’d gotten from the museum under the guise that she was a history professor working on a research project with her students.

(It wasn’t technically a lie, she’d protested. She had been a history professor, nevermind that it was for 6 weeks, 150 years ago, and she’d been going by Andrew to do it.)

There’s a boat sitting at a marina an hour away, full of sonar equipment (mostly stolen) and diving gear (mostly not), waiting for them to make sense of it all.

It feels as though the tension in the room is muting any sound.

“Right,” Andy says, finally, slapping her hands on her thighs and standing. “Well, Nile and I are going to get food—”

“We are?”

“—Booker, where’s the nearest grocer?”

“Straight shot north, once you reach the main road,” he responds, as if on auto-pilot, and Andy takes Nile’s hand and pulls her up from her seat, tugging her towards the door.

What remains is the sounds of a pen scratching paper just a little too hard, pages being turned with unnecessary force, sounds that grate the ears and rake the mind.

It’s Nicky who breaks first, or maybe this is his version of offering a truce, setting his pen down to mark his place in the book he’s consulting before looking up. “We loved you as a brother, Sebastien,” he says, with a cold sort of softness, and the immediacy with which guilt floods Booker’s expression is like an arrow to the heart. It doesn’t stop Nicky, whose hands shake where he’s clasped them in his lap, though his voice remains steady. “No, actually, we still do. And that’s the knife in the wound, isn’t it? Because somewhere along the way, you stopped. You stopped seeing us as family and started seeing us as a means to an end, and all we ever saw you as was—” he cuts himself off with a scoff and looks away.

Joe stands silently from his chair across the room and walks to him, stopping behind him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Booker’s eyes tighten and he swallows hard, looks down at his hands, tracing an invisible line on a map. “I never—” he takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. “I never thought anyone would get hurt. I never meant for that. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than what it was.”

“But why?” Joe hears himself ask. “Why do it in the first place?”

Booker shrugs, raises his head like it pains him to do so, and looks between Joe and Nicky. “Because for the better part of two hundred years I felt alone?”

And, oh. There’s that old anger.

Joe feels a hand on his and realizes how tightly he’d been gripping Nicky’s shoulder. He eases, flexes his fingers under Nicky’s by way of apology and takes the answering stroke of a thumb over his knuckles as reply, and lets out a sharp breath. “Well, you were wrong. You weren’t alone. You chose to be. We were always there for you.”

“I know, and I know ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, I know there’s nothing I could say, there’s probably nothing I could do that would ever earn your forgiveness, and I don’t blame you, but I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since I first set up that fucking meeting, I was just too caught up in my own grief to back down. I should’ve just given myself over at the start.”

Joe sighs. What he wants to say is that he should have talked to them from the start. From before Copley even entered the picture. The first time he’d had the hare-brained idea. But he knows that won’t help anyone now, so what comes out instead is, “Just, help Andy with this. It’s as good a first step as any.”

Joe holds Booker’s gaze just a beat longer before the other man clears his throat and looks back down at the map in front of him, but Joe can tell he’s not really studying it anymore. He feels Nicky’s shoulders sag more than he hears the heavy breath he’s let out, feels the hand on his slip away, watches it fall to Nicky’s lap the moment his head drops.

The silence is broken by a loud knock on the door and a man’s call, muffled by the heavy wood. « Jean-Paul! Es-tu en ici? »

« Ouais! J’arrive! », Booker calls, and stands, turning to look at Joe and Nicky again, frozen in their solemnity. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I did see you as family. I still do. I just didn’t know how to reconcile that with what family has meant for me.” He pauses a moment, then gives a small nod and walks to the door.

~*~

The sun beats relentlessly on the deck of the rented boat, at its nth stop in the middle of the ocean, little cobalt waves lapping at its hull almost mockingly. Or maybe it just feels that way, with heavy, drowsy sun-sickness set in countless hours ago and nothing to do but wait. It reminds Joe of when he was a young man (well, younger), becalmed on the ocean voyage that had led him to Andy and Quynh for the first time. He’s pretty sure he’d knitted enough socks to ensure all the armies of the world would have warm feet.

He idly wonders if he should have brought some needles and yarn, remembers that Nile had been curious to learn, when the surface of the water breaks again.

This time, Sebastien’s not alone.

The relief that blossoms in Joe’s chest threatens to choke him with tangled vines that reach up into his throat and encircle his heart. At its root, a bud of forgiveness, beginning to twist into bloom.

Maybe, he thinks, between pulling Quynh onto the deck and helping her into Andy’s arms, you can’t go right to wanting to eat with someone.

He leans over the gunwale again, extends a hand to Sebastien, still treading water. Maybe, first, you have to tolerate the walk to the grocery store.

[nicolaclaus-blog]

I’ve changed my exercise goal. I want to be strong enough to hold my arms up for the whole time it takes to do a french braid. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

hey, I’m not shrinking anymore!

last time I was home, I was at like 96 which is so not cool

and today before I ate dinner, it was at like 99.8 which means I’m probably over 100 now and that’s pretty exciting tbh

I hate when I drop down to 96, that’s the worst

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

So the Y is closed for the week, which means not only do I not have work, but I don’t have access to exercise stuff for the whole week. 

So I’m going to have to try to do actual runs and body based exercises so that I’m not slacking too hard. 

So last night, I was like... I have some energy left and some time, might as well do some push ups. 

but oh no. the fucking cat is like... oh, you’re got half of yourself propped up? it’s time to go under you and demand pets!

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I was hoping to be able to put in more exercise while I was down here. 

But I took a run on Sunday, and then on Monday I got a wicked bad sunburn and could barely move my shoulders. 

They’re feeling better today, and I did some laps in the pool earlier. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I went on actual run tonight. Last time (Saturday?), I only ran like a block. I’d say about .2 km? Like, I’m horrible at distances and going by fractions of Pokemon Go eggs for this shit. 

But today I ended up going a lot further. I went around the block (the whole block, not just one leg of it, so like .8 km or so) twice just walking, then twice running part way and walking part way. I can go further before I get out of breath. No stomach cramps at all this time which has always been my problem with running before. So that’s awesome. And I managed to hatch an egg in Pokemon along the way even if it turned out to be something I already have a lot of. 

So I call it a success. I’m going to try to make it a habit to go for actual runs outside. And I want to get back into actually doing weights this week because I have been slacking hard core. 

I gotta be careful with too much adrenaline though. So even though I’d like to push myself and go further I know that once I start to breathe heavy too much I’ve got to stop so I don’t overload my brain. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I’ve been moving and doing things all day so it is now time to sit down and relax for a bit. Gonna watch ABC Murders and then maybe take a shower before it’s time to hang out with other people. 

I went for a run this morning while waiting for a friend to be done with things. I didn’t get all that far, but it’s a start. Normally, I just walk. 

Or maybe I’ll go do things now. Whatever. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

alright , up a bit later than I had hoped but whatever

eating breakfast

gotta take a walk to the bank and maybe the co-op in a bit ‘cause I gotta deposit checks and I need more tofu

gotta start planning meals ahead of time again because I realized I’m shrinking again even though I’m eating normal but that just means I gotta be eating even more and not messing with my exercise routine

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

 Tonight I went faster than I ever have before on the treadmill. 

Going to the Moana soundtrack is really doing wonders for it. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I made an actual dinner with real veggies and protein and stuff. 

And it’s yummy. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I have been slacking hardcore on my workouts this month. Like, it’s the 21st of the month, and I’ve only worked out 6 times. So it’s time to get back on track with that. Because before I worked out today, it had been 10 days since I worked out. And before that, I had skipped like 7 days. Part of it has been writing, and part of it has been being busy. But also, part of it was I’m being lazy as fuck. 

Time to get back to this shit. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

I get really confused when people act like losing 5 pounds in a week is exciting, because my weight fluctuates at least 3lbs per day so like, I can lose 5lbs a day, and then gain it back that same day? 

and that happens most days?

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

Nicky’s Life Log 8/23

I’m going to change the format of this a little bit to make it easier to do, so that I actually do what needs to get done. 

Productivity 1. I bought milk, and went grocery shopping.  2. I finally went back to watching CSI, and while that’s more of a fun thing than a productive thing, I stopped the rewatch back in November and well, it’s been months and months and months.  3. I caught up on the Mockingbird comic.   4. I started writing again after most of a month of not really writing. So that’s good. 5. I made dinner. 

I had a list of 10 things to do today, and I did 7 of them. Which isn’t bad. I didn’t read any more of my library book. I did not listen to the last like 15 minutes of the latest Night Vale episode. And I didn’t count up how much I have left of meds, but I know I’m fine on all of them for now, so that’s something I can do tomorrow. 

Daily Records Sleep: I went to bed at 2am last night, and got up around 1 this afternoon. Slept longer than I wanted to, but it’s okay, I suppose. 

Mood: Pretty good. Woke up late, but I was okay with it. A little bit annoyed at being dragged to the library, but it disappeared super quick. Generally good. 

Food: Breakfast/Lunch- toast, mac and cheese Snack #1- Carrots and Ranch Dinner- hot dogs, potatoes, and corn on the cob

Exercise: The Y is still closed. I walked to the Co-Op and Right Aid, and then back. 

All in all, it was a pretty good day. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

Nicky’s Life Log- 8/22/16

Today is day 1 of doing this so the format might change. For right now, I’m going to list 5 productive things I do each day to start off with. I want to include basics but also things that are useful to know. What I did that day. In different areas of life. 

Productivity

1. Went to the Doctor’s Office, and got blood work done. Scheduled another appointment for late September to go over blood work. (9 am appointment, stayed until 11:30)

2. Brought the car in for an oil change. (2:30pm, got back from picking it up around 4:30pm)

3. Read a significant portion of my overdue library book. (waiting room, doctor’s appointment)

4. I typed up all my to-do lists and made a plan to avoid procrastination. 

5. I have almost (as in half an episode left) caught up on WTNV, after over a year of being behind. 

Other Things Done:

1. Read fanfiction. (CSI, House MD) (for far too long)

Checklist Deadlines- 1/2 relevant ones. Daily Life Tasks- Was Not At Home Most of the Day, visiting Mom, 1/1 completed Working Towards Long Term Goals- 1 of 1 completed. Work- 0/1 completed. (Vaccation) Fun- 1/1 completed  Fitness/Health- 3/5

Daily Records

Sleep: Went to bed at 2am, and woke up at 8 am. 6 hours of sleep. Woke up to first alarm.

Mood: Pretty good. Productive. Confident. Happy. Relaxed. A bit of procrastination about bringing the car into Mavis, but it got done anyway.

Food:

Breakfast- a hard roll with butter on it

Snack #1- a chocolate chip pancake

Lunch- Pita Bread Pizza (Pita Bread, Mozzerella Cheese) (The Fridge at my Mom’s is lacking veggies rn), second chocolate chip pancake.

Dinner- Pita Bread Pizza, Rice Krispies

Not my best healthy food day. I’ll do better tomorrow. 

Exercise: 

The Y is closed, therefore no structured exercise is done. I walked from Mavis to my Mom’s house.

Other Things of Note

It is Minuit’s birthday and he’s old. And also cute. 

I ran into an old friend from high school at Mavis, and caught up with her. 

[the-cardboard-constructionist]

To Do List (Generic For Records)

Things With Deadlines (3)

1. Finish Book of Kings and return to library. (ASAP)

2. Check Autopay on Comcast/Xfinity Bill (8/23)

3. Credit Card Bill (9/21)

4. Read Owl Books (before next trip home, so I can return them)

Daily Life Tasks (6)

1.Take a shower (every other day)

2.Dishes (after use)

3. Laundry (when needed, at least once a week)

4. Cat Litter (every two or three days)

5. Feed Cats (wet food, twice a day)

6. Sweep Floor (Everyday)

Working Towards Long Term Goals (6) 1-2 a Day

1. Write 750 words each day. (Everyday)

2. Edit Lucky Series for continuity

3. Edit and read over What Is Left

4. Finish Skyler Braddock Takes On The World

5. Apply for Early Childhood Ed at GCC. 

6. Look into applying to work as a sub at Community Action.

Work (7) 1 or More a Day

1. Buy masking tape. 

2. Fix structural damage on castle. Check for any problematic water damage. (#1 must be done first) 

3. Evaluate and fix water damage on rocket ship.

4. Find more duct tape projects appropriate for pre-school age. 

5. Work on adding to staff meeting notes. (Meeting is 8/29)

6. Deposit pay checks in a timely fashion.

7. Take pictures of creative projects with children and keep a record of them for future resume use. 

Fun (5, 9 comics) 1 or More a Day

1. Catch up on comic books. (Priority)

-Mockingbird (1 issue) -Unbelievable Gwenpool -Spider-Women Event (5 issues) -Ms. Marvel -A-Force -New Avengers -Scarlet Witch -The Wicked and the Divine -Klaus

2. Catch up on Rizzoli & Isles. (Priority)

3. Catch up on Girl Meets World. (Priority)

4. Start up CSI rewatch. 

5. Listen to Welcome To Night Vale

6. Listen to more OTR. 

7. Finish organizing Boston Blackie and The Adventures of Phillip Marlowe episodes. 

Fitness/Health (7) 5 A Day

1. Eat at least two balanced meals a day. (Every Day)

2. Keep records of food eaten, and calories consumed, including how much protein I’m getting so I can best adapt my diet to suit my needs and realize how what I consume effects my mood. (Every Day)

3. Get enough sleep. 8 hours. Every night. Keep a record of how many hours of sleep for observational purposes. (Every Day)

4. Lift weights at least 5 days a week (barring the week of 8/22 due to The Y being closed). (5 Days a week)

5. Cardio on the treadmill at least 5 days a week. Improve distance walked/ran, and increase speed. Make note of any stomach cramps that prevent this from happening for record purposes. (5 Days a week)

6. Keep a record of obvious and clear signs of strength improvement. (When Applicable)

7. Keep a record of mental health state, including mood, fatigue, anxiety, and anger. (When Applicable)

Relationships (4)

1. Improve communication. (when needed)

2. More hugs. 

3. Read OWL books, in order to be educated in the OWL program and be better able to take steps I missed when helping my sister, with her brother and sister. 

4. Respond to my mother’s text more often.