Nikita told it in a bored voice, which was no less than Sasha expected. But his fingers twitched on the tabletop when he spoke of meeting Trina’s family – his family. Sasha ached for him, thinking of Kolya, the son as an old man, meeting his unchanged, unknown father. He wanted to crawl into Nikita’s lap, but forced himself to shovel in pancakes instead.
“That was stupid,” he said when Nikita talked about walking straight in the front door of the manor.
Nikita shrugged. “But it worked.”
“Because you had more help than you expected.”
“Hmm. It worked out.”
“You said that.”
“I’m saying it again. That’s all there is to it.”
A dark worry blossoming, Sasha set his fork down. What he’d managed to eat so far rolled over ominously in his stomach. “Nik. It was a suicide mission.”
Nikita studied the fake wood grain of the tabletop.
“Did you…would you have cared if you died?”
Nikita’s head lifted, eyes slate gray in the late morning light. “As long as you escaped, I didn’t care what happened to me.”
Sasha groaned. “Ugh. You are terrible.”
Nikita tilted his head.
“No, you are. Are you so– Do you not– How do you think I would feel?” His voice cracked. “If you died. Do you think I would be okay?”
Nikita went very still.
“What do you think I would do? Shrug, and say, ‘Oh well, he didn’t care if he died, so I don’t care either.’ Do you think I would find a new roommate? Do you think I would be even close to alright?” His voice shook, and it had nothing to do with withdrawal. “Or you so selfish that you don’t care what that would do to me? Or are you just an asshole?”
Nikita’s throat moved as he swallowed. “You know I don’t think that.”
“Then why are you so quick to sacrifice yourself?”
“Because I can’t…” The words grated out of him. “I can’t think when…” His chest lifted and fell, quick shallow breaths again.
Sasha did go get in his lap that time, though the kitchen chair groaned and threatened to collapse. Though there wasn’t room. He tucked his head under Nikita’s chin and was grateful for the hand that lifted immediately to run through his hair.
“I think,” he mused aloud, “we’re what they call codependent.”
Nikita snorted.
“Promise me something.” When Nikita didn’t respond, Sasha cupped the back of his neck and squeezed. “Promise.”
“Yes, yes, alright.”
“No more suicide missions. No matter what. That goes for both of us.”
Nikita petted his hair some more. Faintly: “Alright.”
“Nik?”
“Hmm?”
“Will they come after us? Vlad, he–” A shiver stole through his body.
“No, bratishka. They won’t.”
Another silence fell, this one peaceful, warm with the comfort of closeness.
“Nik?” Sasha asked after a while, as an idea struck. “What happened to Val?”
Nikita stiffened, just a moment, one second of pause, and then his fingers continued sliding through Sasha’s hair, down around the curve of his skull. But that pause was all Sasha needed to know.
“He didn’t get out, did he?” A sweeping sadness filled Sasha like a wave.
“He might have, we don’t know,” Nikita hedged.
“But you don’t think he did.”
Nikita sighed. “I think it isn’t likely.”
Sasha whimpered.
“He made his own decision,” Nikita said, firmly. “I went there for you, not him, and he knew that.”
“Nik. Val’s the one who told me how to turn you – to save you. He’s the reason we’re here now, together.”
“Oh,” Nikita said. And then again, when it had fully sunk in. “Oh.”
“Maybe he’s alright,” Sasha murmured into the collar of his friend’s sweater.
But he didn’t believe that.
*
Trina stirred sugar into her coffee with lazy movements and didn’t glance up until the man who’d taken the seat across from her cleared his throat.
“Oh.” She feigned slow surprise, and lifted her head to greet him with a smirk. “Hello, Dr. Fowler.” Inwardly, she heaved a sigh of relief. Up ‘til this moment, she’d seriously thought he might turn up with his feral wolves or a handful of armed guards.
But it was just him, looking harried and put-out.
He smoothed his hands down the thighs of his slacks beneath the table, and it looked like a nervous gesture. “Detective Baskin,” he said, tone clipped. “It seems like you’ve been busy.”
“Hmm,” she hummed, noncommittal. “Is a cop ever not busy?”
His mouth tightened, tugging harshly to one side. His voice came out an angry hiss. “The damage you’ve caused, you and your friends–”
She held up a finger, and he fell into a sputtering silence. “Before you go off on an angry supervillain tirade, let me introduce my friend Jamie to you.”
On cue, Jamie stood up from the table behind her and sat down to her left. He set his laptop on the table, turned it toward Dr. Fowler, and clicked Play.
“You’re going to want to watch this,” Trina said. “Though I imagine you’ve seen it before.”
Though reluctantly, Dr. Fowler’s eyes went to the screen…and then widened. He made a shocked, outraged sound that he quickly smothered with the hand he pressed over his mouth.
“How did you–? When did…”
“I think he gets it, Jamie, thanks.”
Jamie shut the laptop lid.
Trina folded her arms on the table. “Okay. So. Here’s where we’re at: we have this video. And before you go thinking that you can whack me over the head and steal the computer, you should know two things. One: I’ve got two vamps watching my back right now.” She didn’t glance toward the corner where Lanny and Alexei sat with coffees and untouched Danishes. Through the process of their rescue attempt, the two of them had become friends. Alexei was currently laughing – eyes scrunched up and mouth open – at something Lanny had said. But both of them had their bodies angled toward her, ready to leap to her defense.
“Two,” she continued. “We’ve already uploaded this video to several other computers, some flash drives, and the cloud. So. You can’t get rid of it. And I have a friend who’s been instructed to upload it to YouTube should I suddenly disappear.”
He took several deep breaths, staring at her.
“You’re a smart man, Dr. Fowler. I think you know what kind of global panic would break out if the general public saw what’s on this video.”
He swallowed. His expression cycled through several variations on fury, but she could see the defeat there, too. Finally, he said, “What do you want?”
She flashed him her coldest, angriest smile. “I want, in no uncertain terms, to be left the hell alone. Lanny, Jamie, Alexei, Nikita, and Sasha. My family – because I have no doubt that at this point you know who and where they are. You’re going to leave all of us alone. Forever.”
“You’re an idiot,” he seethed quietly. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
“I have some idea.” She nodded toward the computer. “And if I ever feel like I need to get involved, then I will. But right now, you and your Institute are going to have to make do without us. The monsters you’re making can do all sorts of things, but they can’t navigate the PR storm that’ll rain down on your heads if that video leaks. How successful do you think your war efforts will be if the voting public starts demanding to know just exactly where their tax dollars are going?”
He glanced away, eyes shiny behind the lenses of his glasses.
“What’ll it be, Doc?”
“Fine,” he bit out, and pushed to his feet.
Trina watched him walk all the way out the door, down the sidewalk, and around the corner before she collapsed onto her elbows, letting the table hold her weight. “Holy shit, I didn’t think that would work.”
“You didn’t?” Jamie asked, scandalized.
“It was worth a shot.”
Across the café, Lanny winked at her.
*
“…should have both your badges for this!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not even a goddamn phone call! And with open cases!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop saying that, I’m trying to yell at you!”
“Yes–” Lanny started, and Trina stepped on his foot.
Captain Abbot had been screaming for a while. His face had turned an alarming shade of plum and Trina thought the big vein in the middle of his forehead could blow at any moment. The office door was shut, but she glimpsed the occasional curious face peeking in through the gapped blinds.