(Still not mine. See part one for notes and disclaimers.)

"I was just so mad, ya know? I dunno, we were yellin and suddenly Nico's showin up from outta nowhere and the gun's in my hand and it just went off, ya know? And Nico's sayin 'Don't worry, I got this' and next thing I know he's talkin to the cops and makin things go away. Like my man Nico does, right? Cool as hell. Takes my piece and says he's gonna drive Darius home. Tells me I gotta come talk to you if I know what's good for me. So here I am, right Doc? You tell him I came to see you?"

Ronnie's looking around her office like he's expecting Nico to jump out of the corner at any moment. It would be funny if she wasn't so tired, if the smell of spilt coffee didn't still permeate her living room. If she'd actually seen Nico at the meeting, if this morning had never happened. But Dani's got the memory of frightened eyes she never expected to see. Of a glimpse of a man behind that "cool as hell" veneer.

"I'll tell him," she says, a small smile forced onto her lips. "But right now I want to talk about why you had a gun in the first place."

Ronnie wriggles on her couch, looking everywhere but at her. "I dunno, Doc," he says with a laughing shrug. "Protection, right? Everybody's got a gun."

"What do you think you need protecting from?"

"Gotta look out for myself," is all he'll give her, and she decides to try another track.

"Uh-huh… then why don't you tell me what it was you and your brother were fighting about?"

Now the carpet holds all of his attention. "It was stupid."

Dani waits for more, the morning sun silently filling the room with light. She'd had to go with long sleeves today, to hide the disturbingly finger-shaped bruises that wrapped her arm just above the wrist. Though they have nothing on the dark purple shade deepening on her hip bone. The thought of it is enough to resurrect the ache. She shifts slightly in her chair.

When it becomes plain that Jackson wants to go no further, Dani releases a slow breath and tries anew. "Ronnie." She pauses until he finally looks up. Smiles. "You're not in trouble here. I just want to find out what's going on with you. See if there's any way I can help. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. So tell me again what happened last night. Slower this time, with detail."

The fidgeting has settled down a little, and Dani supposes that's something. "Not all that much to tell, Doc. Darius and me had been out drinking, and there was this girl… Only it wasn't just about the girl, you know? I dunno. Anyway, we got back to my place late, and we were going at it, saying all sorts of shi- - sorry, Doc – stuff and the gun was in my hand. And, I dunno, Nico must've seen us at the club and followed us like some ninja shit, cuz suddenly there he was, at my place, stepping 'tween me and Darius."

"And then the gun went off." She's impressed at how neutrally she says this, despite it being backed up by the memory of so much blood.

"Yeah. It happened real fast. Loud as hell, too. For a second I even thought I hit Nico or something, the way we all fell back, but I guess not cuz next thing I know the police are banging down the front door and he's going to handle things. That cat's got nine lives," he says, shaking his head in appreciation.

She wants to tell him what actually happened, to show him the risks Nico's taking for the team and to shatter his illusions about superheroes. But the information is Nico's to control. Instead Dani says only, "All actions have consequences, Ronnie. Even if we don't always see them right away."

They talk for a half hour more - dancing around too many topics for Dani's liking - but she doesn't want to scare him away, so she lets him keep things light. Besides, to be fair, her own focus very much wants to wander. Now is not the time to delve, not when she can't promise him her full attention. They make an appointment to meet later in the week, and she tries to tell herself she's made a decent start as she closes the glass door behind him.

She goes into the kitchen to make herself a sandwich, thinking back to the meeting earlier. She hadn't needed to participate much, thank god, other than fielding a couple of vague questions about TK. With Nico not present, she hadn't been sure whether or not to bring up what happened last night; in the end, she'd decided to wait until she'd had a chance to talk with Jackson, see what he had to say. She'd bit her tongue and sat quietly, and the spotlight of the meeting had moved past. She spent the rest of the time reminding herself that she should be listening, reminding herself that not to space out. Trying not to worry about why Nico wasn't there.

A mental feat not helped at all by Matt stopping her in the hallway on the way out to ask if she knew where he was. She didn't know and she'd told him so, but she'd sounded a little flustered to her own ears in her effort to give nothing away. Defensive? Had she imagined that Matt had looked at her oddly? Probably. She promised she'd tell Nico to call should she get in touch with him first.

Little does Matt know that she's apparently now the last person Nico wants to get in touch with. Sandwich in one hand, Dani runs her thumb over the phone in her other. She's already sent him a text today, after the run-in with Matt, but there's been no response. She wonders if he's sleeping.

Now comes a clear image behind her eyes of him in the grip of a nightmare, and she wonders how often he ever sleeps.

It's only been a few hours, but she sends him another message. Short, reasonably concerned, and sent before it can be overthought. Even if she has to annoy him into responding, at least she'll get a response.

The rest of the day passes with syrupy slowness, crawling along with no further plans or commitments. Dani empties the dishwasher, makes another attempt to lighten the coffee stain on the carpet. Shifts the couch slightly. Texts him again. Takes a nap. She's a third of the way through a novel she's never had time to read when she hears Ray's car out front and the kids coming up the path. It's past seven now. And still no word from Nico.

The kids have already eaten, and they're quick to escape to the teenage solitude of their rooms. She feels like she mostly just sees the backs of their heads these days. Dani sits back down and picks up her book, wondering when exactly that started to happen.

The text startles her when it finally comes, the chirp of the alert cutting suddenly through the room's silence. The pages of the paperback rustle under the flutter of her hands. Dani grabs for her phone, a glance at the lock screen telling her it's gotten late.

Sorry for not getting back to you earlier. Everything's fine. We'll talk Monday.

Monday.

She's on her feet now, frustration spurring her to move without a destination. Everything's fine. Her hand rubs unconsciously at the bruise on her hip, the muscles underneath stiffened and spitting after she's sat reading for so long. She supposes she shouldn't be so surprised, should have known his most likely response would be to avoid her. She curses herself for scaring him off - not for her own reactions, but that she'd been unable to hide them better. If she'd had more control, maybe she could have gotten him to talk to her when his guard was down.

Pointless to debate it now - the moment having passed - but her thoughts circle around the theme, having no interest in venturing anywhere else. Eventually Dani sits and picks up the book again, but the words stubbornly remain words, individual sounds that her brain pronounces without picture or meaning. She's read the same sentence four times now, and she has no idea what it says. This is stupid. She decides to go to bed.

It's a random impulse that has her checking out the front window as she's going to lock the door, but it gives her a glimpse of Nico's car parked in front of her house. She pulls the front door open just as he starts the engine, but the motion attracts his attention. He looks away quickly when he sees her, and for a moment she thinks he's going to drive off anyway. Finally he turns the car off, and she closes the door behind her.

Crossing the dark yard toward the hush of the street, she decides she doesn't like this new nightly ritual.

And this time her slippers are getting wet.

Nico's studying the stitching on his steering wheel when Dani opens the door and settles herself into the passenger seat. It's warm in here, pleasantly so. But the interior smells faintly of cleaning chemicals, harsh notes lingering despite any efforts to dispel them. Not necessarily unpleasant so much as unnatural, but present. Persistent. It takes her tired brain a full minute before it occurs to her that he'd been in the car when she'd found him, that he'd been bleeding all that time. Of course he'd had to have the car cleaned. She wonders if the dim lighting is hiding any stubborn stains.

The thought shivers down her back, and his eyes dart sideways to look at her. "It's not Monday," he says.

"No. I decided to bump up our appointment." The lines around his eyes tighten at this, almost a cringe. Dani's not sure why, but she keeps her voice light as she continues, "You're here, I'm here. What's wrong with talking now?"

He shakes his head, his eyes shifting to the windshield, to the empty street. "It's late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Had he come to talk, only to change his mind? How long was he sitting out here before he sent that text? Irritation swells for a moment, and she hears herself say, "Sure, Nico. Everything's fine."

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and she can feel the ground crumbling under her feet. This isn't how she wants this to go. Dani sighs, suddenly exhausted. "Sorry, I –"

"You're limping," he cuts her off. She falls back into a surprised silence – she didn't realize he'd been watching her cross the lawn, didn't realize that her discomfort was noticeable. Her mouth opens, closes, as she tries to work out what to say. His hand flexes tightly around the wheel, his voice low. "What else?" It's far too close to a demand.

"Nico…"

He swings around to face her. "What. Else." Now it's a demand, without any hint of a question. The interior of the car feels much to close. Dani tells herself that the anger and frustration radiating off him aren't directed at her. She forces her body to stop trying to melt into the closed door at her back.

"Nothing else. And it's only a bruise. It'll fade."

"That's not the point," he says, dropping both his voice and his eyes. The intense emotions are fizzling into something quieter, but there's still an inescapable weight in the car. "And I don't believe you."

She realizes he's looking at her arm, his hand darting out to grab it a half-second before she knows he's going to. But his grip is surprisingly gentle as he cradles it between them, slipping back her sleeve before she can protest to expose the ugly marks on her wrist to the sliver of light the streetlamp that peeks over the front seats. Nico sucks in a breath, fingertips whispering over the mottled skin.

"Christ." It's barely an exhale. He lets go of her arm, turning as far as he can from her in their small shared space.

Dani pulls her sleeve back down. She watches him. Waits.

"Again, only a bruise," she says, after several moments of silence have slipped by.

"Again, not the point," he growls, his eyes still on the vacant nighttime street.

"So tell me," she says, "what the point is."

He's grinding his teeth together in his jaw; there are tired lines around his eyes that she doesn't remember seeing before. By the time he finally answers, she's given up any expectation that he's going to. "I hurt you," he says, the words barely loud enough to make it the short distance between them. "It's my job to protect you, and I hurt you."

"Not intentionally," she's quick to point out, but this does nothing to appease him.

"Doesn't matter." It's firm. Convinced.

"Yes," she says, just as firm. "It does."

Nico shakes his head, his focus on the car that drives slowly by them. He follows it with his eyes; she might as well not even be here. When it's clear that he's volunteering nothing more, Dani sees that she's going to have to be the one to drag things forward. "I startled you, you reacted instinctively. How is that your fault?"

His hand curls into a fist on the seat beside him. He won't look at her. "It is."

"Nico, you were exhausted and I'm guessing in a considerable amount of pain. You can't blame yourself for not being in contr-"

"Yes. I can."

Dani sighs, wishing they were having this conversation somewhere else. Preferably somewhere where she'd have a better chance of seeing something other than only the side of his face. "Okay, yes, clearly you can. But you shouldn't. I don't. You had a normal human reaction," she says, thinking of her own frightened flinch away and the wall it slammed down between them. When he still says nothing, she reaches out to rest her fingers on his tight fist. "Do you remember what the dream was about?"

It's the wrong move; he pulls his hand away from her, his voice almost a hiss. "You're not my therapist," he warns.

It strikes a nerve in her own muddled thoughts. "And I don't want to be," she retorts, pulling her own hand back. Dani makes herself take a breath, trying to find a way to salvage this. They're both on edge, and she needs to walk softly. She lowers her voice, tries again. "Though I'd be happy to give you some names if you want them." Nothing. He's pulled his right arm in close to his side, back to pretending to study the neighborhood through the windshield. He's the definition of tense, and looking as if maybe he thinks she'll simply go away if he ignores her for long enough. "But I do want to be your friend, Nico. Friends talk to each other. Talk to me."

His left hand comes up to rub at his forehead; his eyes close for a beat, two. "Just a dream," he finally says.

As if she's going to believe that. A tiny voice cautions that maybe she shouldn't push, but still she finds herself asking softly, "Are they always that bad?"

His right arm is still protectively immobile, and she hears the fabric of his shirt shift against the seat more than sees the actual movement when he shrugs his other shoulder. "Sometimes."

She thinks that's all there's going to be; she slides her own attention to the wide window in front of them. Dani scrabbles through her thoughts to find some thread here to follow.

"They get worse with stress, when I'm really tired," he admits to the darkness, and she senses this is not an easy thing for him to acknowledge aloud. She wonders if this might also have been part of the reason he hadn't wanted to stay. Dani nods, not looking over at him, giving him time to see if there's more. "I don't sleep a lot," he eventually says.

"You have a lot of people depending on you."

Another one shoulder shrug. His voice is drained, flat. "That's the job."

"And we're all grateful to you for doing it so well." There's a noise of derision from the seat beside her. The dampness on the soles of her slippers is soaking through to her feet; her toes are cold against the soft synthetic fur. "Ronnie thinks you might be a ninja," she tells him, mostly to try and lighten the mood.

"Hardly." He looks over at her now, his expression weary. "What did you tell him?"

Now it's Dani's turn to shrug. "Only that actions often have unseen consequences. He knows he made a major mistake just having that gun in the first place – it's up to you if you want him to know how bad. But I think it scared him enough that he won't be making the same mistake again." She yawns, says, "We have another appointment scheduled for later in the week."

"I'm keeping you awake again," Nico says, and she only notices that some of the tension has gone when she feels it come trickling back.

"Good thing I'm old enough to stay up past my bedtime," she responds.

They sit there for a while, the soft sounds of the suburban night drifting in through his cracked window. Dani shifts in her seat, trying not to wince when the bruise at her hip brushes against the door handle. She wonders what time it is. Wonders if her children are still up. She can't tell if their lights are on from this side of the house.

"How'd the meeting go?" he asks, his words floating through the dark.

"Nothing particularly interesting," she says, figuring he'll find out anything he decides he needs to know. "Matt asked where you were – you're supposed to call him. I think he missed you."

"I could tell. He sent me more messages than you."

"He seemed to think I'd know where you were," she tells him, and she swears she can she him deliberately filing this information away for later. "I didn't mention what happened. It's your decision if you want to."

He doesn't comment, and she senses that's the end of it. He refused to bring in the police in order to protect the team; she suspects he won't tell the team either. Maybe in order to protect himself. His image. His ability to do his job, the way he intends to do it.

She knows this is more than she can hope to resolve tonight.

Another car passes, and she squints into the headlights as they briefly play across her face. She yawns again, unable to quash it as it sneaks up on her. Nico looks at her, his dark eyes shadowed in the white of his face. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her as if searching for his words. She tries not to squirm in this new silence, forcing herself to be still and wait to see if he'll speak.

"You're certain it's nothing serious? Nothing broken?" he asks, and somehow she gets the impression that it both is and isn't what he wants to say.

"Nico. I'm okay. Really."

He frowns, and his eyes fall away. But he nods.

His Blackberry vibrates jarringly in the tray between their seats, and Dani can't help but notice that he reaches awkwardly around with his left hand to pick it up. She's about to say something, to point out that she's not the one to be worried about here. But he scowls at the screen, and before he even speaks she can tell that there's somewhere else he now needs to be.

"Dammit," he says, dropping the phone and dragging his hand through his hair. "I have to go take care of something." For just a moment, he sounds so unbearably tired. She wants to tell him not to go. She knows he won't listen.

"Serious?" she asks instead.

"Don't think so. At least not yet. Which is why I need to be there."

"Okay," she says simply, opening the car door. "Let me know if you need me."

She hopes he can hear all the layers in her offer, hopes he understands that she doesn't mean just for the team. A breeze tickles the ends of her hair as she slips out of the car.

"Dani." It stops her as she's turning away, keeps her from swinging the heavy door closed. She stoops slightly to be able to see his face, balancing herself with a hand on the top of the car.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I never meant to..." He swallows, tries again. "I won't ever hurt you again."

The smile she gives him feels a little sad, but genuine. "People can't promise each other that, Nico. All we can do is our best for one another. I know you'd never hurt me intentionally. That's good enough for me."

She can't say for sure if it's good enough for him. But it's something that they can work on. For now, Dani can only hope that she's helped. "Take care of yourself," she tells him, wishing him a quiet good night as she straightens and closes the door.

He waits until she's safely back in her house before he starts the car and drives away.

end.