The Old Guard: Joe & Nicky
It's done. Booker stands alone on the shale beach, alone. Their decision has been made, their judgment passed. No matter how Joe wishes things were different, no matter the fury he feels right now, there is nothing he can do to change it. In one-hundred years, they will return to this spot. No matter the changes this next century brings, they'll return and Booker will be waiting for them. Joe takes one last look at his brother, then follows the others as they walk away, both joined and separated by their silence. It’s done. But it doesn't feel like it.
*
Nicky slips behind the wheel of the car and Andy commandeers the passenger side. Nile takes the spot behind Nicky, causing Joe a momentary pang. Booker knew that was his spot, that he was always most at ease protecting Nicky’s back. Nile’s new, she doesn’t understand yet, and Booker… Booker’s done. The car's quiet as Nicky winds through the narrow Docklands streets. In normal times, Joe would lighten the mood with a laugh or a quick comment. But not today. Today he feels chimeric, brimming over with an anger that's not like him. If he speaks, it will bubble over.
*
“There’s the A11,” Andy directs Nicky, who silently indicates. This seat isn’t his preferred spot, but Joe has to admit it gives him a better perspective on his husband. He sees his elegant hands, the ones that hold everything with such care, from a longsword of Toledo steel to Joe himself, clenching the steering wheel with a strangled grip.
The safehouse in Essex is a new one, thus truly safe. The others go inside, but Joe stays in the car, reluctant to move but not wishing to be alone. Before that thought fully forms, Nicky slides back in beside him.
*
"I just can't believe it," Joe says, when it's clear that Nicky's not going to break the silence. "I thought we knew him."
"We did know him," Nicky objects. "And we knew he wasn't happy."
"So it's our fault that he had this death wish? For all of us?"
"Yusuf, you know that's not fair."
And he knows that, of course he does, but he’s tired, bone-achingly tired, and he's angry, and before he can process that in any rational way he's kicking the car seats, punching them as if they contained the souls of all those who'd wronged them.
*
Nicky doesn't move to stop him, just lets Joe tire himself out. The car seat is mangled, and in Copley's future there will be a very unhappy car hire agent, but Joe doesn't care. He collapses against the back of the seat, breathing heavily, his rage momentarily spent but his wrath still simmering.
"Don't you care?" he blurts out, knowing how unfair his words even as they leave his mouth. "Doesn't it bother you that he wished to die so much that he fucking sold us?"
Nicky's jaw tightens, the anger he's holding in every bit as powerful as Joe's.
*
"I spoke with Nile last night," Nicky says, almost in a whisper. "Did you know Booker was in charge of looking for us? And as near as I can tell, he wasted at least 28 hours pretending to search. While I was watching that mad scientist torture you. While I was dying, over and over again, and coming back to the sound of you screaming."
Joe stares at Nicky, wishing he could take away his pain. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you were already so angry. Because knowing that wouldn't have helped us decide what to do with him."
*
"I've tried to wipe this hatred from my heart," continued Nicky, "but I've failed. I want him to feel every year of exile, just like I felt every one of your deaths. But I think"--Nicky took Joe's hand, turned it until their fingers slotted together--"Booker's punishment is to keep living, but so is ours. Until I can honestly forgive myself for letting him feel like this "death wish," as you call it, was the only choice he could make."
Joe nods. Nicky's right. Maybe they're a long way from being done, but maybe there might be a way forward.