Nick drove back to his house, knowing without anything needing to be said that Warrick was coming over. Nick saw out of the corner of his eye that Warrick was glancing over at him every few seconds, just to make sure that Nick really was okay. And he was, for right now at least. Everything that had happened seemed to be taking its time getting to Nick, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it all hit him at once. He was ready for it, he just didn't want it to happen.
The Texan pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. The two men got out of the car and silently went into Nick's house, remaining silent when they entered the living room and sat down, Nick on the couch and Warrick on the recliner. They weren't silent for much longer. Both men knew it wouldn't last, they were just waiting to see if the other would break it first.
Warrick was the first to speak. "So what did he say?" he asked.
Nick sighed slightly. "He said he was trying to give me a better life. A perfect life. He said I could have had anything I wanted. He said I had nothing left, and when I told him he wasn't my father, he said it didn't matter because I was more like him than I was like Jack."
"That's not true," Warrick said, shaking his head. "You're nothing like him."
"I could have been," Nick said.
"But you're not."
Nick nodded slowly. "I know. I just wish that I had known about Jack so much sooner. He could have told me. He should have."
"He was a father to you anyway," Warrick said. "Whatever reason he chose not to tell you must have been a damn good one."
"I know, but still. Finding out now just hurts. None of this feels real, but there's so many little reminders of what happened everywhere. Every time I change my shirt or take a shower, I see the scars from the bullets Brass fired. Everytime I turn the radio on, Stairway to Heaven ends up coming on. Every time I fall asleep, I have a nightmare. And I can still feel Mike's hand on my ankle, hanging on until..." Nick trailed off abruptly.
Warrick frowned slightly. "You were there when he died?" he asked. "I thought you just found him there, then Brass showed up. You were there?" Nick nodded weakly. "What happened?"
Nick dropped his eyes from Warrick's to the floor below his feet. He sighed heavily. "I was talking to James, then the next thing I know I'm waking up in the middle of the desert next to Mike, who was beat up worse than I've ever seen. He was worse than every single one of the victims of the mob that attacked Greg. He was dying, and he knew it. They did it to him on purpose so he'd know he was dying and would know he didn't have a chance. He said they did it to guys all the time, they'd beat them so bad and leave them far enough away that they didn't stand a chance."
"But of course you tried to help him," Warrick said.
Nick nodded. "I wanted to go get help, but he wouldn't let me. He said there was no way. He said he didn't want the last fifteen minutes of his life to be the hardest of mine."
Warrick watched Nick intently, knowing there was more to this story. "What happened Nicky?"
"He told me to," Nick said as he looked up at Warrick. "He was suffering, bad. There was a gun next to him. He told me to. I had to. He was suffering and was going to die anyway. There was nothing else I could do." Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So I went over and got the gun. I stood next to him, and he held on to my ankle. I closed my eyes, then I shot him."
That was the first time that Nick had actually said out loud that he had shot his brother. He had implied as much to Doc Robbins, but hadn't actually said it. Now, hearing it out loud, he understood the magnitude of what he had done. He hadn't comprehended it as much when he had seen Mike, or even right after he had done it. It took saying it out loud for it to really hit him.
"I shot him," Nick repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Warrick knew he had to say something. "You did the right thing. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you did Nicky. Because of you, he didn't have to suffer."
Nick shook his head. "No, because of me, he died in the first place. So did Jack. This is all my fault, I should have never gotten involved."
Warrick gripped Nick's shoulder firmly. "Stop blaming yourself. You can't do this to yourself man, they wouldn't want you to."
Nick sighed. "I know. I just wish I could change what happened. Everything was so chaotic, I barely even realized that I got arrested until I was out again. I wish that this was all just a bad dream and would go away when I wake up."
"Your whole life has kinda been like that man," Warrick said with a small smile.
Nick laughed. "Very true. At least I didn't lose everything."
"Exactly," Warrick agreed. "You still have your job, even though you were arrested for murder. And even though you were a lying, conivining, conning, jackass criminal, all your friends still love and care about you for some reason."
Nick smiled. "Thankfully my friends are idiots and forgive me too easily. Otherwise, I don't know what I'd do."
"Beg us until we forgave you just to get you to stop being annoying."
Nick nodded. "I'd do whatever it takes."
"So what are you going to do now?" Warrick asked.
Nick sighed. "I don't know. I have twenty-seven million dollars, and a house in Italy. I'm not sure where to go from here."
They were quiet for a minute, both thinking their own separate thoughts to themselves. Warrick was thinking about how glad he was that Nick was back to the normal Nick he'd known for the last fifteen some odd years. Nick was thinking about where to go from here, and it didn't take long for him to get an answer.
"Chicago," he said, thinking out loud.
Warrick frowned. "Excuse me?"
Nick looked at his best friend. "Chicago is where Lauryn lives."
"Who the hell is Lauryn?"
"Mike's daughter," Nick explained. "She lives with her aunt there because Mike's wife died from cancer. Maybe they'll want twenty-seven million dollars and a house in Italy."
Finding Meagan Veller's apartment in Chicago wasn't as hard as Nick originally thought it would be. After being interrogated for nearly an hour at O'Hare airport because he looked suspicious in that he didn't have any luggage with him and seemed very nervous, Nick arrived at his destination. Meagan Veller's apartment was just inside the Chicago-Englewood line. It was about a half hour taxi ride from the airport, but Nick didn't care. It gave him a chance to think of what he was going to say.
Nick climbed the four flights to the apartment listed as 'Veller.' He hadn't thought to use the elevator until he was standing in front of the door. The hallway was pretty nice, with a fairly new scarlet carpater and bright lighting. The wall s were neatly painted a soft tan color, and all the large oak doors had shiny numbers in the centers. Nick knocked on the door loud enough for someone inside to hear, then he waited.
He was about to knock again when he realized that there was probably no one home. It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a Thursday. People work. Nick was about to turn around and leave whent the door opened.
A women at least five years younger than Nick opened the door. Her sandy blonde hand fell behind her shoulders and was tucked behind both ears. Her green eyes were behind a pair of nice eyeglasses, and she smiled politely.
"Can I help you?" she asked sweetly.
Nick shook his head slowly. "Sorry, I should have called or something first. I'm-"
"Nick," Meagan Veller said, cutting him off.
Nick nodded. "Yeah."
"I knew as soon as I heard your voice," she explained. "You sound just like Michael. Not to mention you look like him as well." Nick nodded again. Before he could reply, Meagan was ushering him inside. "Please, come in."
Nick entered the apartment and looked around him. To his right was a small, cozy kitchen was an island and a nice steel refrigerator. On his left the living room spread out in front of a large window overlooking the rest of the city. Directly in front of him at the other end of the foyer was a hallway leading to the rest of the apartment.
"Have a seat," Meagan said, leading Nick over to the living room. Nick sat on the sofa while Meagan took the chair in front of him and to his left. "Please don't take this as rude, but what are you doing here?"
"I have some bad news," Nick began, not sure what to say. Meagan was paying very close attention. "Mike passed away."
Meagan covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God. What happened?"
"He was...killed," Nick said, failing to mention he was the one who had done it. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you earlier. Honestly, I didn't even think of it till now. I'm sorry."
Meagan shook her head. "Don't be. I wouldn't have been able to go out for the funeral anyway, it would have been to emotional for me to handle and I don't have the money. Besides, it's best for Lauryn not to have to go. It would have been too hard for her. She didn't get to see Mike much, but when she did she was always so happy. She really loved him."
"He loved her too," Nick said.
"Where you there when he died?" Nick nodded slowly. "That must have been awful. He talks about you all the time ya know. I knew that he finally got to meet you. He was so excited. James and Jack were the only family he's ever had, and they weren't exactly the best. No offense."
Nick smiled slightly. "No worries."
Meagan nodded slightly. "Lauryn's in her room right now, and I think you should be the one to tell her. She kept telling Mike she wanted to meet you. Too bad it isn't under better circumstances."
"Are you sure you want me too?" Nick asked. Meagan nodded and stood.
Nick stood as well and followed Meagan down the hall to the second door on the left. She opened it slowly, then held it all the way open, smiling in at the girl laying on her stomach on her neatly made bed.
Lauryn's room was a typical eleven-year-old's room. The walls were painted light purple. Her bed was covered with a dark purple bed spread and littered with yellow pillows. There was a desk on the wall next to the bed and a large dresser on the same wall as the door. A few pictures and paintings were hung on the walls, but none caught Nick's attention. He was looking at the one on her desk next to her bed. The one of her and her father.
Lauryn sat up on her bed and pulled her iPod headphones out of her ears. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. She was wearing jeans and a Chicago Cubs t-shirt. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, sitting up and smiling back at Meagan.
"Lauryn," Meagan said softly. "There's someone here I want you to meet."
She stepped aside so Lauryn could see Nick. Lauryn smiled shyly, and Nick returned the gesture.
"He has something he has to tell you, so I'm going to leave you two alone for a minute, okay?"
Lauryn nodded, and Meagan left. "Come sit down," Lauryn said politely, motioning to her desk chair.
Nick went over and sat in the chair. He looked down at the yellow and purple rug at his feet before looking up at the brown eyes that were looking at him. The same brown eyes that Mike had been looking at him with the night he had died. The night Nick had killed him. How was he supposed to tell this little girl she was never going to see her father again?
Nick thought that the best was to begin was with a deep breath.