A/N: So, I'm back with a little one-shot. Set post-Nightlife, there will be brief spoilers. Huge shout-out to killerangel666 for being the first review on my other story, Resistance. Thanks a ton for the support.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Rob Thurman
Slide the clip out with a soft click, set the full magazine on the table.
Readjust to the lessened weight of the weapon.
Take aim at the invisible enemy in front of you, beside you, and use your peripherial vision to combat the enemy just to the left of you.
Use the lessons of awareness drilled into your being by your kick-ass big brother, and heft the throwing blade in your free hand for the final enemy behind you, the one who thinks that they have an advantage because you can't see them.
The trick is, you've been trained to listen, and therefore, anticipate the ones that you can't even see.
Flip the blade over your shoulder and catch it, knowing that even though you are practicing, had that enemy been real, you would have been victorious.
I settle down at the kitchen table and reinsert the clip back into my Glock. The kitchen is enveloped in darkness, save for the ivory slivers of moonlight that penetrate through the window. I set my blade down and try to ignore the way my hand trembles once it leaves my grasp.
This has been my routine for the past few weeks, ever since that malevolent little shit Darkling had possessed me, and he-- I mean we-- had worked with the Auphe, assaulted innocent bystanders, and blackmailed dangerous supernatural creatures in an attempt to kill those I cared about. But none of that even came close to what had the deep rooted self loathing writhing in my stomach and clouding my mind. During a planned ambush on my brother and Robin, I had actually shot Niko. I was a damn good shot. I hadn't missed.
The saving grace had been the foresight on his part to wear a bullet-proof vest. Leave it to Nik to anticipate getting attacked by the one person he would lay down his life for. Not that I hold that anticipation against him, hell, it had saved his life. No, my disposition was in the fact that I had pulled the trigger. And I relished in the thoughts of his death. No monster like that should be allowed to live, yet here the fuck I was.
Thanks to Rafferty's blurring of my memories, the emotions that went along with them were blunted. But I still recalled them just fine, especially in the form of horrifyingly accurate nightmares that had plagued me ever since Darkling was killed. Each night was the same. I faced off with Niko in Central Park and pulled the trigger, a grotesque smile splitting across my face. His body jolted with the impact, but this time, the distinct metallic smell of blood filled the air. I would jolt awake with the sound of my own delighted laughter ringing in my ears, and wipe the sweat off of my face.
Instead of futilely attempting to sleep again, even though that's all my body desired this goddamn early in the morning, I would quietly walk into either the living room or the kitchen and practice my ass off. I thought that if I made sure I was able to defeat any threat from the outside, that would help me to battle the enemy within.
Fuck, I knew it was ridiculous, but it was either that or go insane. Since I was already familiar and not quite fond of the latter, I chose to practice. My decision had even filtered into my daily schedule. Instead of lagging and complaining on our morning runs, I was promptly dressed and ready to go by six, and I matched Niko stride for stride, not even acknowledging the vicious stitch that had a tendency to develope in my side.
I was under no delusion that my sudden eagerness was lost on Niko, or the entire absence of my usual pain-in-the-ass little brother rhetoric. But, after this whole ordeal, I knew I had no right to complain about even the mundane things. I had tried my damnedest to kill Niko, and even though he had denied it was my fault--the guy had some serious delusions--I would be six feet under before I would forget it.
He had undoubtedly noticed these changes in my attitude, but in true Niko-fashion, had given me space. I knew he was going to confront me eventually, but he was allowing me time, which I was grateful for.
"When will you stop blaming yourself, Cal?" Niko asks from behind me.
Ok, I guess he thought that I had had enough time. It doesn't surprise me, that even though I knew I was silent, he knew about my early morning practices. It comes with the territory of knowing someone your entire life like you know yourself.
I pick my knife back up from the table and turn it in my hand, letting the blade catch the luminescent glow of the moonlight, and allow the silence to speak for me. The answer? I don't even know. I know that the black, vile feelings of hatred roiling in my stomach show no signs of getting the hell out of Dodge, so maybe it would be a while. A bitter smile stretches across my lips as a realization dawns on me. My entire adolescent life, Sophia spat harsh and cruel things to me and made sure that I knew, even in her seemingly permanent state of drunken stupor, that I was born of a monster. Even picked my name to reflect that, the educated bitch. Never as a kid had I deserved that treatment or level of unadulterated hatred, and Niko did his level best to deflect most of it, and was successful. But now, I was finally worthy of my name, Caliban, and all that was implied with it. It was a tough fucking pill to swallow, that the most dangerous monster I had yet to face was the monster within, but swallow it I would. For Niko, who deserves so damn much more than I can offer him. But to keep him safe, I would train harder, fight fiercer, and prevail over the evil that almost destroyed me. Well, I would prevail or die trying.
I see the glint of his newly shorn blonde hair in the dim light as he settles across from me at the table. Yet another loss he can attribute to me. His braid. Nik never outwardly expressed any signs of vanity, it just wasn't in his character. But I knew he had taken comfort in his long blonde braid, the familiar thud of it against his lower back whenever he swung his katana with lethal agility, the soft tug I would give it in true little brother form. But he had sacrificed it as soon as he had known that I would have to die in order to save my soul. The one thing of importance Sophia had bothered to share with us:
You cut your hair for the ones who have died. You cut your hair, and you mourn.
Niko had cut his hair, but had absolutely no intentions of sticking around to mourn. No, I know for a fact that had the final episode at the warehouse not gone down like it did, he would have died with me. I don't expect anything less, but that knowledge doesn't do anything to relinquish the feeling of being the biggest fucking Achilles' Heel in the world.
I sigh and continue to study the knife in my hand, still encompassed by silence. A olive toned hand closes over mine, warm and calloused, and sets the knife on the table. Niko taps my hand twice to get me to look at him, which I do. Mirror grey eyes stared into my own, his expression a mask of calm. But I see right through that mask like a cheap Halloween costume and read the concern etched in his face, visible to only those who know where to look.
At length, Niko says, "Cal, you have to understand that this, among many other anatgonistic entities, was not your fault. You did not work for the Auphe, you did not hire supernatural hit men on the people you care about, and most importantly, you did NOT attempt to kill me. That was Darkling. You may have shared his emotions and thoughts, but they were not yours, little brother. Trust me on that. I know that if there were any possible way you could have prevented what he did, you would have. I know that, but you seem to lack that knowledge."
I open my mouth to protest, but he continues, smoothly cutting me off, "You have a resilient soul, Cal. From your birth, throughout our childhood, and even now as the brave man who sits before me, the odds have always been against you. Despite it all you perservere, and you, stubborn bastard, refuse to let anything taint that soul of yours. You came back to me, all those years ago, with a broken mind and body. But your spirit could never be broken, little brother. If that is not a testament to your strength, to be able to return from hell with an unbroken spirit, then I do not know what is. So stop punishing yourself for not controlling the uncontrollable."
His words begin to quell the hatred that burned inside of me with a righteous passion. That didn't surprise me either, and when I look into his eyes and see his absolute faith in my humanity, I can't help the lump that swells in my throat. He must see something in my eyes, because he stands and comes around the table to wrap his arms around me.
"God, Nik, I'm so sorry," I choke out, my words muffled against his shirt. His arms tighten as he says,
"Apology not accepted, little brother, as you have nothing to be sorry for. Stop being so damn stubborn and accept that. Also, as much as I appreciate your sudden investment to improving your tactical awareness, it is not your obligation to protect me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."
The dark emotions roiling in my stomach dissipated with those final words, and I pull away to see a minute quirk of his lips lighten his features, a Niko-smile. I smile in return, push away from the table and move into the living room. I start pushing furniture against the walls, and Niko helps me until anything that could potentially break--or that I could get thrown into-- is out of range. I stand in the center of the newly-cleared floor and shift into a fighting stance. He squares off across from me, and we begin to spar.
Despite Niko's reassurances, I will still keep improving my fighting, my endurance, do everything and anything to ensure my brother's safety. It'll be a while until the notion that what Darkling did wasn't my fault finally sinks in, I know. But the self loathing has decreased in intensity, and I can finally begin to cope with the events and move on. Eventually I suppose I'll fall back into my normal lazy-ass ways, but for now, I'll be vigilant. And because Nik is Nik, he'll be right with me for however long it takes.
No matter what I may think of myself, Niko will never leave me alone. Even in my darkest days, he will be right beside me, waiting ever-so-patiently with an outstretched hand, to bring me back into the light.
The End
A/N: So there's a small oneshot I've been sitting on. Love it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know.