A/n- Last one. I swear. This is it! Promise!
Disclaimer: TT
Summary: Takes place after the movie ends.
Diaka
There was music in the air.
Around her, evening lights flickered off the brilliant tapestries hanging from wide-open windows.
The square, a large cobbled space squeezed between the brick buildings of the city, was always full of people. If it had been early afternoon, stalls and blankets would cover the ground, but in the evening, when the market was silenced under the heavy swath of dusk, the small shops and restaurants awoke with renewed life.
Tables and chairs spread themselves in and around the walkways.
The early summer night was pierced with happy noises from restaurant goers, and Nika bid farewell to her good friend Liana, who owned the Autunno Rosso, the Autumn Rose, a local eatery.
The young woman, with fiery red hair and green eyes laughed uproariously as Nika grinned.
"I swear to God," Liana breathed through her laughter, Italian accent thickening her words, "go home and get rest! You allow me no time to work with your company! Come back tomorrow, you've done enough today!"
It was customary for Nika to loiter around all evening. Her shift ended at six, but she always stayed later then usual, distracting her friend. Her night would always end with good wine, a bit of leftover food, and Liana shooing her away.
The Russian pointed her finger playfully, "I need my rent! How am I supposed to pay if you never work me?"
Liana pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose, "Tell my brother; he give you another month free. He like you anyhow, thinks you're some mysterious city girl. Piff! All I know is you too good at serving tables! Only reason I keep you around!"
Nika let a bark of a laugh escape through her lips as she waded through the throng of tourists and locals, waving back.
Unlike the city, this Tuscan town was quiet, homely. Everyone smiled and reached out to you.
When Nika had first arrived she had been caught off guard by the friendly atmosphere.
It made her weary.
She felt trapped at times.
But then she would remind herself of that little booklet up in her room, the one with the pictures of the kind of places she wanted to own one day, and she would force herself up out of bed every morning for another day of work.
It had been four months. Getting out of bed with no one beside you never got any easier.
Turning down a dark and deserted side street, a warm breeze fell upon the woman's brow but she shivered anyway.
She had been smart to leave when she received the pamphlet. Included inside, along with the pictures of the countryside and lands for sale, had been a single train ticket and a considerable amount of cash.
Nika let the coat around her arm fall open in her hands. Slowly she twisted it round to envelop her shoulders. Fumbling, she pulled out a lit a cigarette.
She took a deep drag, allowing the smoke to sit within her for a moment; allowing it to fill her wholly.
For the briefest of moments, when she was alone, she allowed herself to remember things: feelings, emotions, the burning sensation of her skin drawn up roughly against-
But she stopped herself. She wouldn't allow herself something so idiotic as holding onto a fleeting hope that would never be realized.
She needed to move on. Alcohol didn't serve as a comfort anymore. The feelings she hated, that she lived on, that drove her, always penetrated even her most heavily drunken state.
She needed to move on.
Liana was right, her brother was attracted to Nika…. but every time he was close, she wanted to throw up at the thought of him touching her.
She stopped walking and let herself lean up against the wall of a building.
Life was such a mess.
Her feet ached from an entire day of bussing and serving tables. It was a fine restaurant, to be sure, but it was too tasty for its own good. There were so many patrons, and Nika barely had any time to rest.
The cigarette was stubbed out.
Sighing, she readied herself for the emptiness her absurdly small apartment would bring her.
Two short blocks and she was walking up the stairs to her room. She'd avoided Liana's brother, thankfully he had been with a different tenant.
Her key fit into the lock, but she had to lift the handle to open the door as it stuck on itself when swinging inside. Setting down her bag she turned around to close the door behind her. She reached for the lights.
There was a sudden noise.
Nika had taken two steps when a gunshot, very close to her, shattered the window behind her. A small squeal escaped the woman's lips and she sank to her knees.
Someone crashed into, as if they had lunged. She fell, sprawling out against the hardwood, a heavy weight upon her chest.
Her lungs were pressed against the mass, squeezing closed, her breath coming in panicked gasping. She clawed and heard the person above her grunt as her nails slashed across his face.
A large fist came into contact with her cheek, and she saw stars as her head cracked against the ground.
She shrieked but a gloved hand was covered her mouth.
His hand encircled both her small wrists and held them above her head, his bulk pressing onto her legs. In the dying light she saw he wore a suit, his head shone, clean-shaven. But his eyes. They were small and cold and not at all familiar.
Her blood froze within her veins as she felt the barrel of a gun rest upon the side of her neck.
She squinted her eyes shut, her lips pressed together. She could taste the salt of tears.
The figure was breathing heavy.
She was going to die.
She heard the gun's hammer click back and the gun was fired.
Nika held her breath, sure she was gone; her blood splattered against the ground.
The weight that had crushed her fell sideways onto the ground, unmoving.
Someone wrapped an arm around her and was pulling her off the floor. She didn't try to fight it, all her strength was gone. Coaxed off of the cobblestone, she saw the man that had rushed her. Her heart turned to lead.
He was dead.
It wasn't him.
Nika was shaking, tears streaming down her face, her crushed cigarette smeared into her palm.
In the awkward position, the awkward hug, she felt a gun handle press into the small of her back., as if someone held it. It was hot, warm from the powder just fired.
Something clicked.
She'd been saved
"Are you alright?" A familiar voice, low, breathless as she'd never heard it.
Her mouth opened and closed several times as the figure pried her off his jacket, off his red tie she was clinging to.
"I'm sorry, Nika, it was too close…"
Now the tears, not at all from the fear, choked her throat and stung her eyes. Her breath hiccupped out of her chest and she was shaking.
"What-" She gulped and was enveloped by a sudden panic. "What are you doing here?"
47 grabbed hold of the woman's arm and switched on the apartment's lights, the gun slack in his other hand. He didn't answer her.
His eyes flitted over her face, searching. Nika winced as he passed the palm of his hand over the bruise now blooming on her skin.
"What-"
"Are you alright?"
She was silent for just a moment.
"What the fuck was that?" Was she screaming? Her head was pounding so hard.
He stared at her, grabbed her arm, and began to pull towards a chair near the refrigerator. She wrenched out of his grasp, glaring. 47's eyes narrowed, lips parted just very slightly.
"How did you find me?" She knew. She knew he wouldn't trust her. He didn't meet her gaze. Advancing on him she became very close and hissed, "You've been spying on me! I don't need protection!"
He smirked, albeit sadly, "Obviously."
She wanted to scream, wanted to punch him. "You leave and then just show up! What the fuck? Why did you ever come here?"
His hands grabbed her upper arms roughly, so his face was within inches with hers. His teeth were clenched. "I've been protecting you."
"From who?!"
"The people that want to kill you."
"Wh-… why would they want to kill me?"
"For helping me. For knowing things."
Although she tried to sound menacing, her voice was tired, and all she could feel was helplessness. "You should have stayed. Why didn't you stay?"
"I didn't think they'd try and-"
"Kill me."
"Yes."
She swore, in Russian; called him an idiot- bastard. There was a shadow of relief washing over his face and he let her go, gently.
"I'm sorry I scared you."
Nika snorted, "I suppose I should thank you? Thank you for up and leaving?" The door to the apartment was closed. Nika went to the window and began picking up the glass. "How long have-"
"Since you left."
She let the glass fall into the sink.The woman's hands balled into fists and looked away, biting her lip. 47 moved towars her. She felt a tug, his thumb running down the tattoo on her cheek. His eyes were watching her, unsure of her.
Shaking her head, she sighed, "What am I going to do with you? I'm so mad..."
"I'm sorry."
A mirthless laugh, "No your not."
His jaw set heavily and he went to the body of the dead agent.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I'll be right back," he picked up the body and left the apartment. She stared after him and sank down onto the floor.
Just like that? He could do it, couldn't he? Just walk right back into her life like that?
Nika clutched her head and leaned on her drawn-up knees, thinking back to before they had parted ways. She tried to restore some ounce of ordinary back into her life, but then she realized that she had never been normal, and no matter how hard she tried her life would never be so.
A great weight felt as if it had been lifted off her shoulders, and she remembered the way his lips had felt traveling down her breastbone, the way his palm had held her hip. She felt, when he moved, she moved with him.
Some nights, despite herself, she would lay naked on the floor of her apartment and try to recall something that would make her warm again, that would recall the look in his eyes as the world exploded and died around them; shattered in brilliant colors of red and silver and the softness of skin.
Now, with him here, why was it so easy for her to relapse? He was a dangerous drug. Worse then alcohol. Worse then vodka. Worse then the bruises she had owned before he had rescued-kidnapped-saved her.
"Nika."
His voice made her start and she shivered. 47 was keeling beside her, his jacket gone. She let her arms fall and her head raise just a slight degree.
"Oh god," passed her lips, a prayer perhaps- perhaps for deliverance from him, or perhaps for him being delivered to her.
Silently, he wrapped his arms around her, one around her shoulder and the other around her lower back. She sank into him, breathless, as 47 cradled her.
She didn't know if she could hold him, anchor him to her, keep him, but she was damn well going to try.
"я тебя лю," she whispered, looking up into his eyes. He smiled, softly.
"I love you too."
Fin
A/n- YAY!! Lol- thanks for reading! Please review!
