#prismism series

[youssefguedira]

yay 😃 alright, 41 and Joe x Nicky please 😌

hiya anon!! i hope you enjoy this!! it got... a little angsty. oops. ehe

41: washing each other’s hair

Hardly anyone has spoken a word since they left the lab. The car ride passes mostly in silence. Andy falls asleep about half an hour after they leave, and Nile follows not soon after, her head dropping onto Nicky’s shoulder. Booker stares out the window. Good, Joe thinks venomously. He doesn’t want to hear what Booker has to say right now.

Don’t think about Booker, he tells himself. He’s the one driving. He cannot fall apart now, not yet. He keeps his eyes on the road, and if he keeps a tight grip on the steering wheel, tight enough to turn his knuckles white, the others don’t notice.

All that said, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Nicky in the rearview mirror every now and then. Nicky meets his eyes every time, never saying a word, but he doesn’t need to. They can speak just fine without them.

I am here. I am okay, Nicky says with every look, and it helps Joe breathe just a little easier.

They hit a speed bump about ten minutes away from the safehouse Andy had instructed him to go to before falling asleep - one Booker hadn’t known about. It had been the place they stayed when they were on land in between searching for Quynh, and they’d mostly avoided it ever since. Andy still stops by, he thinks, when she returns to searching on her years off, but other than that the house carries too many painful memories. The sudden jolt startles Andy awake with a hissed curse, and Joe slows down almost reflexively, unwilling to cause her any more pain.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“Close.” Joe tries his best to keep his voice steady. 

“Good.” 

Joe pulls up just outside the safehouse and stops the car. Nicky shakes Nile awake, gently. She sits up, startled, and looks over at Nicky almost apologetically, but Nicky just smiles at her.

“Get out, I’ll park and join you,” Joe tells them all.

Nile is first out, walking around to help Andy. Booker isn’t far behind. Then it’s just him and Nicky.

“Go,” Joe says before Nicky can say anything. “I’ll be up in a moment, just going to…” He waves his hand.

“Are you sure?” Nicky asks softly, and Joe knows this isn’t about the car. 

“Just a moment,” Joe repeats, meeting Nicky’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Nicky holds his gaze for a moment before reaching forward to squeeze Joe’s shoulder. Then he gets out, and Joe is alone.

He watches Nicky enter the building before starting the car again. There’s a parking garage only a few streets away that hadn’t been there when they bought the place. None of this had. But he’s used to that.

The solitude is almost a relief after the journey here. He parks as close to the exit as he can - he doesn’t want Andy to have to walk too far, when they leave. He knows she can handle it, but he does it anyway. Once he’s parked, he lingers just a little longer, resting his head on the steering wheel and taking a breath. 

He gives himself only a moment to collect himself before making his way inside.

-------------------------

The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Joe had turned on the TV an hour ago, just for something to break the silence - some antiques show - but he’s not watching it. Nile is, focused intently on the screen, or maybe it’s just that she, too, needs something to focus on that isn’t Booker sitting in one of the armchairs near them, or Andy’s occasional swearing as Nicky restitches her wound.

Joe’s knee bounces entirely of its own accord. He feels like a rabbit caught in a trap - on edge, heart racing, filled with nervous energy. It’s all he can do to keep himself from shaking. The day keeps playing itself on loop in his head - Andy in the lab, bleeding through her shirt; Booker saying I killed her; Nicky lying in a pool of his own blood-

Normally, Joe would be the one to diffuse the tension, to make a joke that would make Andy smile tiredly and Booker chuckle. But he doesn’t know what to do with this.

And how can he hold his family together when he’s falling apart?

Booker glances at him and looks away almost immediately, and Joe wants to scream. Or cry. Or laugh. He can’t tell anymore. The volume on the TV is just a notch too loud, but he doesn’t want to turn it down, not when the alternative is listening to Andy in pain and being reminded that she’s mortal. 

He feels too much, too much, too much.

Nicky’s hand on his shoulder makes him jump. “Come with me,” he says in Genoese. 

Joe looks meaningfully over at Booker. He can’t leave them, not when they can’t trust Booker anymore, and Andy is mortal, Booker shot her once, what’s to stop him from doing it again-

“He won’t do anything,” Nicky says reassuringly, as if reading Joe’s thoughts. “Come on, habibi. You have blood in your hair.”

Joe nods tiredly and lets Nicky lead him from the room, not before shooting Booker a warning look.

Nicky guides him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. When he turns away to turn the shower on, Joe catches a glimpse of the dried blood on his neck and feels sick.

He’d done his best to wipe it away before they rejoined the others, but he hadn’t done much, and-

“I can hear you thinking,” Nicky says, interrupting his train of thought. “We’re safe, Joe.”

Are we, though? is what he doesn’t say. They’d thought they were safe in Goussainville, but Merrick had found them anyway, because Booker had told him where they would be. 

Booker, who had laughed with them only hours before selling them all out. Joe tries and tries, but he can’t understand why.

You and Nicky always had each other.

But Booker had had them too. Joe had tried to make sure he knew that. When did it all go wrong?

“Do you want me to leave?” Nicky asks.

Joe shakes his head. 

Nicky goes first, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he stands under the spray. Joe watches as the water turns red, the blood washing away before his eyes. He can’t look anywhere else. 

“What do you need?” Nicky asks gently.

Joe looks at him, then at the blood still in his hair. “Can I…”

Nicky passes him the shampoo bottle without a word and turns around. 

It’s strangely therapeutic, methodically combing through the strands of hair at the back of Nicky’s neck with his fingers, working out the blood and bone fragments and other things he doesn’t want to let himself think about for too long. He does his best to keep his breathing steady as he does so. The blood washes down the drain, and with it, the memory of waiting for Nicky to wake, barely able to breathe for fear that this would be the last time. 

When he finishes, Nicky turns around with a soft smile. “Your turn.”

The first time they’d done this had been centuries ago, and Joe doesn’t remember much. He knows that there had been people who found out he couldn’t die, who wanted him to tell them how, and hurt him because of it. He doesn’t remember that part - just waking after an indefinite amount of time to find his captors dead and Nicoló kneeling over him, begging him to wake with something like fear in his voice. Nicoló had taken him back to the inn they were staying at, gotten him to eat and then coaxed him into the bath and washed the blood and dust from his hair, all with a gentleness Joe hadn’t known the other man had in him at the time. Since then, it had become a ritual after bad missions, when Joe was overwhelmed, when he just needed to wash the bad memories away, and Nicky had always been there for him to fall back on.

Now, Nicky handles him like he’s made of glass, impossibly gentle as he runs his fingers through Joe’s hair. And maybe it’s the familiarity, or the feeling of finally being safe, or just the weight of the past few days finally hitting him that causes it. Or maybe it’s all three.

Whatever it is, Joe falls apart, falling forward into Nicky’s arms with a choked sob, his tears mixing with the water from the shower. Nicky just rubs his back in soothing circles, continuing to work his fingers through Joe’s hair as Joe sobs into his shoulder.

“I know, hayati,” he whispers. “I know. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Joe cries and cries and cries until he runs out of tears, until the only thing left is a vague sense of emptiness. Only at that point does Nicky reach back to turn off the shower.

“Better?” he asks.

Joe nods.

“Come on, then.” 

There are already clothes in the bathroom - when did Nicky do that? Nicky’s found him a hoodie and sweatpants somewhere in the safehouse, and Joe changes quickly.

“Thank you,” he says, just before they leave. 

Nicky smiles and takes Joe’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and there is nothing more to be said.

As they leave the bathroom, Joe’s thumb finds the pulse point on Nicky’s wrist, the steady beat of Nicky’s heart a reminder that they are safe, they are okay, they are alive.

[youssefguedira]

hello everyone it's me here's part two to the prismism series. you don't need to read the other part to read this one but it covers pretty much the same events. this time, from nicky's pov!

[series masterlist]

[content warnings: mild description of medical stuff (nicky stitching andy's gunshot wound), it doesn't get super graphic but just in case]

Silence can be deafening.

Neither Joe nor Andy had turned on the car radio, and nobody in the back seat had thought to ask for it. Nile had fallen asleep not long after they’d left - healing from that much damage is exhausting. Nicky sits in the middle, and on his other side, Booker is completely silent. Andy is asleep too, her head resting on the passenger side window.

Joe doesn’t say anything, but Nicky doesn’t need him to. He can see how tense Joe is, how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel, how he glances up at the rearview mirror, at Nicky, every five minutes.

Nicky doesn’t say anything either, but he meets Joe’s eyes every time, trying to provide what little reassurance he can.

They drive for a little while longer, until Nicky notices a sign for a service station. He reaches forward to tap Joe’s shoulder. “Stop here. We need medical supplies.” Andy is still wounded, after all, and she’d almost certainly torn her stitches when they were fighting their way out. The doctor may have helped a little, but she is still in danger.

Joe turns into the parking lot without a word and stops the car. Nicky can only hope he will be able to find what they need.

Booker is the first to get out, shuffling aside to let Nicky pass. Nicky gets out and takes the opportunity to stretch out a little. They’ve been driving for hours.

“Wait,” Booker says, shrugging off his jacket. He holds it out to Nicky. “You’re still covered in blood.”

Nicky looks down at it, then back at Booker. His anger flares suddenly, bright and burning, and it takes all his restraint not to snap at him. Whose fault is that? he wants to say, but anger is not what he needs right now. What he needs is to focus on getting them to a safe place, and taking care of Andy’s wound, and making sure Nile and Joe are okay after all that. Anger will not help, so he tempers it. When this is over, then he can be angry.

He takes the jacket. “Thank you.”

Booker nods and gets back in the car.

The interior of the service station is fairly quiet. There are a few people wandering around the small grocery store, and a tired-looking family in the McDonald’s. None of them look too closely at Nicky, and that is exactly what he wants. He makes a beeline for the pharmacy - it’s small, but it will have to do. A song Nicky doesn’t recognise is playing over the speaker system. The only people inside are Nicky and the cashier.

He finds a roll of bandages, some antiseptic, and a needle and thread. The cashier gives him an odd look as she rings up Nicky’s purchase, but doesn’t ask. He only hopes she hasn’t noticed the blood on his shirt and in his hair. Booker’s jacket hides some of it, but not all, and he gets out of the pharmacy quickly.

On the way out, he picks up a few other things: some sandwiches, some water, a few bags of potato chips. They will be hungry, soon, and Nicky imagines nobody will want to go find groceries or cook. He gets what he knows they will like, and a few options for Nile because he does not yet know what she wants. Best to have too many than not enough, Nicky thinks.

He carries the supplies out to the car, and Booker must have been watching, because he gets out of the car before Nicky has even reached it. Nicky hands him back his jacket and gets in the car, Booker gets back in, and they drive away.

At some point, Nile’s head falls onto Nicky’s shoulder. He doesn’t try to move her, unwilling to risk waking her up. She deserves the rest.

Silence falls again, and they continue on their way.

--------------------

Nile sneezes when they enter the safehouse. “Jesus, it’s dusty in here.”

Nicky looks around. He hasn’t been in this particular safehouse for at least a decade, but he thinks Andy’s been here more recently. They search for Quynh, on and off, when they have the time, and this is where they stay. It’s fairly comfortable, unlike some of their other safehouses: there’s a couch and two armchairs in front of a TV in the front room, with the kitchenette just behind that. A corridor at the left side of the room leads to three bedrooms.

“We won’t be here long,” Andy says. “Just a night. We decide what to do in the morning.” She glances at Nicky, who nods.

He sets down the plastic bag of food and medical supplies on the kitchenette’s counter. “There’s water, and sandwiches if you want them,” he tells Nile as he unloads them. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a few.”

Nile takes a cheese sandwich. “Thank you.”

He smiles at her.

In the front room, Booker has already dropped into one of the armchairs, and Nile settles on the couch. Andy tosses Booker a bottle of water, but the movement makes her wince, reminding Nicky of the most pressing task at hand.

“Sit down,” he tells her, pulling out one of the kitchen table chairs. “Let me see the wound.”

Joe’s arrival is announced by the sound of the door opening. He closes it, carefully, and locks it behind him before sitting down on the other armchair across from Booker. Nobody moves for all of five seconds before Joe reaches for the remote and flicks on the TV.

Andy sits down in the chair Nicky gestures to and tugs up the hem of her shirt. Nicky tries not to flinch at the sight of the bloody hole in her side - he’s seen blood before, he tells himself. He’s stitched wounds like this thousands of times. This should be no different.

And yet, it is different, because this is Andy. Who he’d first seen carving through a legion of soldiers like it was nothing, who’d taken an arrow to the side and pulled it out without flinching and continued, who’d lived for longer than he’s ever been able to fathom. Even now, when he is nine hundred years old.

Who had been brought into the lab bleeding out. He tries to push the image away, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it.

Focus, he thinks.

Carefully, he cleans away the dried blood around the wound. Andy hisses in pain, and he apologises quietly.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he hears Nile ask. It takes a moment before he realises she’s talking to him. Joe and Booker are still ignoring each other.

“Down the hall,” he says. “Second door on the right.”

She nods in thanks and disappears.

With the blood cleaned away, he prepares to stitch the wound. Andy swears when the needle goes in, and all he can do is apologise again.

“How old’s your medical degree?” Andy asks through clenched teeth.

“A few decades.” Not old, in the long run, but enough time for them to invent new procedures and cures that never fail to surprise him. He still remembers when bloodletting was a common practice.

“You should go back.” When he looks up at her, she grins, even if it’s pained, and he can’t help but smile back. Yes, he will need to go back, if only because she is mortal now and he wants to know the best way to treat her should something like this happen again.

“Maybe I will,” he says.

She swears again at the next stitch, and Joe turns up the volume on the TV.

At some point, Nile returns, but Nicky’s too focused on Andy to notice. Once the stitches are done, he bandages it as gently as he can.

Andy covers his hand with her own. “Thank you, Nicky.”

All he can do is nod, suddenly not trusting himself to speak without breaking down, and he cannot afford that now, not when there is still too much to be done. He has spent centuries with her, and yet he is not ready to lose her yet. He’s not sure he ever will be.

Andy smiles softly at him and stands up slowly. Nicky follows. “I’ll stay in here,” she says. “You and Joe go shower.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he replies. Andy swats him on the shoulder, her smile widening.

“Go,” she tells him, and Nicky does.

Joe’s knee is bouncing, his hands trembling slightly. Nicky touches his shoulder, and he flinches.

“Come with me,” Nicky says quietly in Ligurian.

Joe glances over at Booker, who’s staring at the TV screen, but Nicky doesn’t think he’s actually watching.

“He won’t do anything,” Nicky reassures him. “Come on, habibi. You have blood in your hair.”

--------------------

Joe falls asleep not long after they get out of the shower, passing out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, but Nicky can’t. He stays in Joe’s arms until he’s certain Joe is fast asleep, and then carefully untangles himself and leaves the master bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Nicky volunteers to stay on watch, and nobody argues. Nile is the first to go, then Booker. Andy lingers for a little while, but eventually squeezes his shoulder and goes, leaving Nicky alone in the front room.

He flicks the TV off - he needs to be able to hear everything, anything that could be a warning sign, and he can’t do that with background noise. The silence feels louder than the TV was, but he doesn’t want to turn it back on. After all, they’d been caught off guard in Goussainville, and where had that gotten them? He doesn’t know if some of Merrick’s people could have survived, or gotten away, and could be coming after them. He doesn’t know if they’ve been followed. He’d told Joe they were safe, but he’s not sure if he even believes that. Besides, Andy is wounded, and Joe is exhausted, and Nile is so new, and he doesn’t know if he can trust Booker anymore. They are at their most vulnerable now.

Nicky settles into a more comfortable position on the couch and prepares to wait. His gun is on the table beside him, easy to access if he needs it. He keeps most of his attention on the door, but listens out for movement in the hallway as well, just in case.

For hours, he flinches at even the slightest sound. He cannot do anything to keep himself busy, not when he needs to be aware of everything going on around him. So he waits, and waits, and waits.

In the early hours of the morning, one of the bedroom doors creaks open. He reaches for his gun. But then he hears the footsteps shuffling out, a rhythm he knows the way he knows his own heartbeat, and relaxes.

“Hey,” Joe says sleepily. He has his hood pulled up, his hands tucked into the pocket at the front, but he looks shaken - a nightmare, probably.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Nicky asks as Joe crosses the room and drops onto the couch beside him.

“Woke up and you weren’t there.” It’s not an accusation, just a simple statement of fact.

“Sorry,” Nicky says anyway.

Joe shrugs. “Don’t be.”

Joe doesn’t ask him to come back to bed, because he knows that Nicky can’t. Not until he’s sure they’re safe. Nicky doesn’t tell him to go back to sleep, because he knows that Joe can’t. Whatever had woken him up was enough to send him searching for Nicky in the early hours of the morning. Nicky can guess at what it was, but he doesn’t ask. Joe will tell him if he needs to.

So they do not speak, but they do not need to. Instead, Joe rests his head on Nicky’s shoulder, and they sit in silence together until dawn.

[youssefguedira]

prismism series masterlist

this one basically covers the same sequence of events between leaving the lab and going to the bar, but from five different points of view. it's called the prismism series because all work titles on ao3 are from prismism by keuning.

nicky [ao3: this constant give and take]

joe [ao3: i'm hanging from a wire]

[youssefguedira]

yes there are things i should write no i am not going to write any of them

[youssefguedira]

local idiot (me) will Not stop starting oneshot series, more at seven

[youssefguedira]

also nobody tagged me in this but i want to do it so. here are my current wips feel free to ask things

princess bride au

star wars au

as certain dark things are to be loved

the bench on the hill (which i haven't actually started writing for yet but it's an idea)

prismism series

rival assassins au: joe + nicky edition