#10

The first couple of months were the hardest.

Sidney spent most days on her bunk, avoiding necessary contact, and most nights, she lay awake, trapped in her thoughts. As a new inmate, she was a target. Harassed by the other women, too innocent to bear the burden of guilt, the guards ignored her—she was far too guilty in their eyes to even warrant a glance.

The news broke that Internal Affairs had launched an investigation into suspected misconduct within the FIB. The investigation revealed Officer Michael Parker's crimes: corruption, bribery, obstruction of justice, breach of trust, and cocaine trafficking. Sidney remembered the wave of disbelief and anger that hit her as the verdict was read—13 years in prison and a $250k fine. She laughed and cried, but then stopped. When his appeal was accepted and he was freed, just like that, she could only stare. Justice had broken, and Sidney's wrist followed—she punched the table so hard that day that the pain still lingered.

Still, the case of the assault remained a secret.

Twenty-one months later, Sidney walked out with more bruises, but with it, she'd learned the bitter truth—she was never going to be innocent or free, not as long as Michael Parker still existed. The court had failed her time and again. And now, she understood why people hated cops. Why they took matters into their own hands.

Michael fucking Parker. And his cronies.

"Hey, Sidney, can you come with me for a sec?"

"Sure. What for?"

"Captain wants both of us in the office. Something about debriefing for the next county patrol."

Jonathan Reece had been in the academy with her, and they both signed on for NOOSE training after graduation. While she had been assigned to the tactical unit, Reece had stayed within the regular task force. Sometimes they were paired up, but this didn't feel like one of those times. His lie came quickly, and Sidney could already tell—things were about to get ugly.

She'd learned quickly that Reece had never shed the badge he hid under, even when he'd transferred to the local department in San Antonio. Finding him wasn't the hard part—it was deciding how. She'd never meant to hurt anyone personally, let alone kill. But when she looked at him, those same eyes stared back at her—eyes full of lies. She pulled the trigger before she could stop herself.

Then there was Ashley O'Brien. She had been released from the department after professional misconduct and failure to comply with her federal oath. A shame, really, because Sidney remembered O'Brien as someone who had been cold, practical, a great agent. And maybe even something more. She remembered catching O'Brien and Michael getting a little too friendly in the office, and those memories still burned.

Now, O'Brien had been arrested again for DUI. Sidney found the timing... suspicious. And helpful. So, she came up with a plan—an accident.

Some said it was easy to die in prison, surrounded by so many convicts. But Sidney knew better. It took permission. And Elizabeta Torres—who was respected in the prison, despite being a few years older—had the authority. Sidney had gotten close to her, and soon enough, O'Brien's death was reported as a slip-and-fall accident. The head injury suggested blunt force trauma, but no one suspected foul play.

O'Brien was dead, and Sidney had gained something she didn't expect—Liz became a trusted friend. Sidney's second release from prison felt different. She was calmer now, without the burden of guilt. She wasn't innocent anymore, but she felt... relieved. Not satisfied, but relieved.

There was another; a shadow behind Michael, following him like a dog. His name was Frank. Michael's right-hand man, both in the uniform and out.

The name hit Sidney like a punch to the gut. No, she didn't know the man well, but he reminded her of Frank Tenpenny. The very name dragged her back to her teenage years in Los Santos. Tenpenny had been a corrupt cop, his influence spreading chaos through the city. Even as a teenager, Sidney had felt the weight of his corruption, the way it twisted the office and the streets. That was why she joined the FIB—to clean up the mess Tenpenny and others like him had made, to restore some sense of justice.

With Frank gone, only Michael remained—the devil she still needed to face. Sidney wasn't ready for it. The last time they'd crossed paths, she'd cornered him in a mountain house, intent on ending it all. But Michael had escaped. She still remembered how everything had gone wrong. The chaos, the shot that took her down, and how he'd vanished into the night. She hadn't been able to finish it then. She hadn't been able to fight back—again.

"Let me go, you prick! Let me go!" A hand clasped over her mouth, but Sidney refused to quit. "Stop it. Please! No. No!"

Jolting awake, drenched in sweat, Sidney leaned against the bed. The dreams were getting worse. The sights, the sounds, the taste of it all—almost eight years had passed, but it felt like it had happened yesterday. For every single day.

She needed to regain control. Looking around, she noticed the faint sound of running water, accompanied by a soft mumble of a song. The door was unlocked. Curious, she entered, only to find a familiar sight.

Niko Bellic. In her jacuzzi.

"Getting comfy?" Sidney asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"It's not every day I get to enjoy a random hot tub in the middle of the day." Niko sighed, clearly relaxed by the water's warm embrace. "Want to join me? There's plenty of room."

"No, I'm good."

"Sure? I heard hot baths are great for your skin."

Sidney raised an eyebrow. "I'm good. Been there, done that."

"Not even if I say you'd look better without it?" Niko tugged at her pants, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, just get in."

Sidney swatted his hand away, rolling her eyes. "When did you get back? And how did you get in? I thought I locked that door."

"Locked doors can be unlocked." He smirked. "Don't worry, I didn't break it down or anything. I didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep." He gave her a playful wink. "Your home phone rang, by the way."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. Didn't answer." Niko shrugged. "Was it John again?"

Sidney smirked. "Someone's jealous."

"Not jealous," Niko grumbled, leaning back into the water. "Just a bit horny." He reached for her again, trying to pull her into the tub. "Come on. Join me."

Sidney stood up, narrowly avoiding his grip. "No. Fuck off. I'm making dinner. You hungry?"

"I'll eat whatever you make." Niko stretched out, clearly content with the hot water.

"Alright."

Sidney went downstairs to prepare dinner, but her mind was still spinning. She hadn't cooked for anyone in ages. The thought made her feel... soft. The last time she cooked with someone had been with Lizzy, making fried plantains on a lazy afternoon. Now it was just takeout or quick meals—impersonal.

As she worked, she suddenly felt a warm hand wrap around her waist. Tensing, she relaxed when she recognized Niko's touch. His breath against her neck made her heart race.

"Watch it, Niko. I'm holding a knife."

"I see that." His voice was low, and the words sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her shirt, teasing the curve of her body.

Sidney smacked his hand away. "Stop it."

"Whoops. Got caught." He grinned, kissing her shoulder briefly before pulling away.

Sidney couldn't help but lean back slightly. "It's weird to see you like this."

"Like what?"

"Well, like... this. You don't strike me as the romantic type."

"Does that mean it worked?" He whispered again, his breath hot against her ear.

Sidney remained silent for a moment, feeling the tingle of his touch on her skin. "No."

"It worked last time." He kissed her shoulder again, knowing full well she was lying. "You sure it's not working now?"

She shrugged, her tone playful but firm. "Stop it. You're ruining the chicken."

"It's going to be chewed anyway." He grinned. "Can I help?"

"Sure. Peel some potatoes."

"Heh, can I peel some potatoes?" He mimicked her, tossing the potato in the air. "I grew up hunting in a small town. Skinned a deer for dinner every Sunday. This is child's play."

"Alright, Mr. Jack-of-all-trades, go ahead and play."

"My name is not Jack." Niko scoffed, already taking another knife.

To her surprise, Niko was actually pretty good in the kitchen. She had underestimated him—again. He helped her prep the vegetables, seasoned the soup like a pro, and even offered a few tips as they worked together. Sidney leaned against the counter, observing him more closely than she should have.

He was still shirtless from the hot shower, with only loose track pants that hung low on his hips, highlighting the abs and much lower part of his body. She checked on the sculpt and the lines of his muscle. One thing she couldn't help but admire was his slight dark body hair tracing down from his chest to his pelvis and disappearing under the pants, which she had never known she liked; kind of like a mysterious way of getting to know the toned muscle beneath—a new profound fetish of hers, perhaps.

"Like what you see?"

His question broke her stare and she quickly snapped back. Feeling a bit playful, she approached him and from behind managed to snake her arms around his waist, a switch in place. "Yeah. The chicken looks cooked enough."

#10

Over the next few days, Niko decided to settle by Jacob's side to help him with some of his drug trades. But when the job's done, he found himself serving other people's business to fill the time and the pocket too. As a last resort, he went back to Roy the Cowboy and did him a bit of protection work. Even that didn't last very long. Alternatively, he began wandering around the neighborhood, looking for something to do and something he could charge. It was funny, the things people asked him to do—stealing money, stealing cars, beating up someone's ex-husband; disposing of the body of someone's ex-wife. Liberty City was a crazy place.

If he was too tired, he'd call the day off, go home, and sulk through the night.

The full moon was brighter tonight, although he never really noticed. But tonight, it was hard not to. Its pale light hung above the city like an unwelcome reminder of something that was always looming, something that never fully disappeared. Funny, how it seemed to tug at him when he was least expecting it, when his mind wasn't even focused on it. He found himself walking aimlessly, just letting his feet carry him wherever they decided. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular.

His mind was restless, distracted, swirling with thoughts that kept slipping away like smoke. Each step seemed to lead him further away from what he was supposed to be doing, or who he was supposed to be—if he even remembered what that felt like anymore. The rhythm of the city, the noise, the constant hum, all faded into the background, leaving him to just... move. Move until something—or someone—pulled him back to reality.

Then, as he turned a corner and found himself on a street he knew all too well, he stopped. His feet came to a halt almost instinctively.

Sidney's house.

He hadn't planned to be here. It wasn't something he thought about. But here he was, standing in front of it, his breath suddenly coming a little quicker, his mind sluggishly catching up with the fact that he had walked all this way without realizing. For a moment, everything around him felt still. The city's noise, the full moon in the sky, even his own heartbeat—it was all quiet. There was something about the quiet here that felt like it was waiting for him to make a decision. To either knock, or turn away.

He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging in the cool air. He glanced at the door, his fingers itching to knock, but they remained suspended. A part of him wanted to walk away, to keep wandering through the city like he always did. There was no reason to be here. No reason to stand in front of this door, at this hour, with all of this swirling confusion inside him.

But then again, maybe there was a reason.

Maybe it was the pull of something unresolved. Maybe it was the way she had a way of drawing him in, even when he told himself he shouldn't care. Or maybe it was just the need to feel something that wasn't just another job, another distraction, another meaningless encounter in a world full of noise.

He'd learned more about her over the past few weeks, little bits and pieces that had stuck with him. There was something about her story that intrigued him, something in the way she'd held her secrets close, as if she had a past she didn't easily share. And when she did open up, when she allowed herself to talk about the things she'd buried—about the betrayal, the way she'd been pushed aside—there was a rawness in her that struck a chord with him.

It reminded him of his own struggles, his own betrayals, and maybe that was why he kept thinking about her. Maybe it was that shared understanding that pulled him toward her when everything else seemed so far away.

There was more to her than what meets the eye. Behind the annoying jabs and hair dyes, she wasn't just another person he was dealing with in this city of chaos. She was... different. The way she handled herself, her unspoken strength, the way she didn't wear her past like a crutch but also didn't try to pretend it didn't shape who she was—it was hard to explain, but Niko couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than he even knew, and it made him curious in a way he hadn't been for a long time.

It fascinated him. It resonated with him.

But still, he didn't move.

Not yet.

Old habits crept in like muscle memory. He glanced down the hall, quiet, empty. The hum of the city below barely reached this floor. No footsteps, no witnesses. Just the door and the silence between them. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. A few days ago, he'd slipped in the same way, unnoticed, uninvited. Back then, it had been on a reckless impulse—a half-drunken dinner that led to a shared bed and an exchange of warmth he hadn't stopped thinking about since. But tonight felt different. There was no rush, no swagger. Just something quieter pulling him in.

The apartment was dark, bathed only in the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the blinds. He stepped in soundlessly, closing the door behind him without a click. The space smelled faintly like coffee and sandalwood, the kind of scent that lingered and somehow felt like her—strong, calm, and quietly unpredictable. He moved slowly through the space, not sure if she was even home. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe he just needed to be in this space again, to feel closer to something that wasn't a job or a target or a goddamn ghost from his past.

Niko stopped in her bedroom, where that old, worn chair she always curled into sat empty. His eyes drifted across the room, catching little details he hadn't noticed before—framed photos turned face-down on the shelf, an open notebook with ink stains, a mug with chipped ceramic resting beside a small stack of ammo clips.

There was a strange intimacy in seeing someone's space like this. No masks, no defenses. Just... her, as she was when no one was watching. He stood in the dim room, eyes adjusting to the quiet. The streetlamp outside cast a soft glow through the curtain, enough to see Sidney lying on her side, her back facing the door. She looked asleep — still, peaceful.

He didn't move at first. Just watched. Something about her like this made him hesitate, like stepping into a memory he wasn't sure belonged to him. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Maybe for her to wake up and find him here. Maybe just a reason to stop pretending he didn't care.

Then, softly, her voice cut through the silence.

"You just gonna stand there all night?"

He blinked, startled but not surprised. Of course she wasn't asleep. Not really. "You could've said something," he muttered.

Sidney shifted just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. Her hair was tousled, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion, but she was awake. Really awake. "Didn't want to scare you off," she said, voice quiet, almost teasing. Then, after a pause: "Come here. I couldn't sleep."

He stepped closer, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Nightmares?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's stupid. Same one as always, just scrambled." A breath. "I was falling this time. Falling into water, but it felt like concrete when I hit it. Couldn't breathe. Woke up choking."

Niko didn't say anything right away. He lay down next to her, careful and slow. The bed dipped under his weight, and she shifted to make room — not tense, not hesitant. Like she expected him to.

They lay there, facing the ceiling, the space between them small but electric.

"You've been through worse," he said eventually.

Sidney gave a soft laugh, almost bitter. "That's what makes it worse." Another pause. Then, softer. "Sometimes it feels like it never left me. Like it's still happening. Even now."

Niko turned his head to look at her. She didn't meet his gaze, just stared ahead.

"It's not stupid," he said finally. "You survived it. That doesn't mean you're not still in it."

Something about that made her go quiet again. Then she exhaled, slowly, like the air had been stuck in her chest for days.

"You always know what to say, huh?"

He shrugged. "Only when it matters."

She turned to him then, eyes finally meeting his. There was something fragile in her look, but not weak. Just tired. And real.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "Even if you did break in again."

He smirked faintly. "Didn't hear you complain the first time."

The quiet in the room was heavy, the kind of silence that settles in after a long, tiring day, when both of them are just existing in the same space, without the pressure of words. Niko was lying on his back, one arm draped across his forehead, his other hand resting on his chest. Sidney was curled up on her side, facing the ceiling, her thoughts seemingly drifting. The faint hum of the air conditioner was the only sound between them, making the room feel colder than it actually was.

Sidney broke the silence first, her voice low, almost hesitant. "Hey… can I ask you something?"

Niko didn't move right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, but the tension in her tone had his attention. His eyes flickered toward her, a subtle shift. "Hm?"

She didn't look at him, her eyes still trained on the ceiling, as if gathering the right words. "I was thinking about something…" She paused, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the sheets as if trying to ease the weight of her thoughts. "Do you wanna come with me to Detroit?"

The question hit him like a brick, pulling him right out of the quiet ease of the moment. He turned his head toward her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Detroit?" he repeated, careful, doubtful.

She shifted in bed, her voice growing slightly sharper, as if to make her point. "Yeah. You heard me."

"So you're leaving? When?" Niko propped himself up slightly on one arm, trying to piece together what this meant. Was she asking him to go with her as part of a job, or something more?

Sidney didn't look at him, her eyes scanning the room, but her tone was casual, almost nonchalant. "Soon." She picked up the remote on the bed, clicking it in her hands absentmindedly, not turning anything on. "I need someone I can rely on for the trip. For the job."

Niko's gaze sharpened. "Okay…" he said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why me?"

She hesitated just for a moment, her fingers pausing on the remote. Then, without meeting his eyes, she answered. "Is that a yes?"

"I didn't say yes," he replied, his voice flat, but with a tinge of something else. "I only asked why me."

Sidney's gaze flicked toward him for just a second before she shrugged, looking away again. "It's either you or I go alone. And 'you' is better for my back-up."

Niko didn't answer right away. He considered her words, the weight of them hanging in the air. Then, with a slight, almost imperceptible smirk, he raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" he asked, a small amount of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "You really want me coming along? I'm not exactly the type to follow orders."

Sidney shot him a sideways glance, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You're a professional, Niko," she teased lightly. "I trust you to keep it together."

He gave a short laugh, but the mood shifted again as the silence crept back in, lingering between them. "I still don't know what kind of job it is," he said finally, his voice taking on a more serious edge.

Sidney's expression didn't falter. "Like all of our jobs, really," she said, as if it was simple. "You know, kill someone."

His eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Which someone?" he asked, but the tension in his voice was clear. "Is it John?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you. Knock it off." She rolled her eyes, clearly irritated by his assumption. "No. Not John," she replied, her voice flat. "But I think you already know."

Niko stiffened, his mind connecting the dots. He leaned forward slightly. "Michael, huh?"

Sidney didn't answer, but the slight tension in her posture told him all he needed to know. That was the target. Niko exhaled, leaning back again against the pillows, the weight of the situation settling on him. This wasn't just another job. It was personal.

"So," Sidney continued, her voice now quieter, but with a certain edge to it, "are you coming with me, Niko?"

"No," he said, the answer coming faster than she expected. It wasn't an impulsive no, though. His voice was calm, almost final, but there was weight behind it. "I'm not going with you."

Sidney went still, her body frozen in the half-turned position she had been in. A flicker of something passed over her face—disappointment? Frustration? But she didn't press him right away. She nodded faintly, her voice quiet when she spoke again. "Oh." Her eyes looked toward the window, her fingers curling into the blanket as she pulled herself into a more seated position. "Why?"

He didn't hesitate. "Just no," he said flatly, but there was something in his tone, a depth to it that spoke of things he wasn't ready to share. "I've got too much here to deal with." He let the words settle before adding, "I can't just walk away from it."

Sidney's gaze flicked back to him, and he could tell she wasn't satisfied with that answer, but she didn't push it. Not yet, anyway. Instead, she let out a breath, her shoulders slumping just a little, like she was letting the air out of her chest.

"You sure?" she asked, her voice softer now. "For a guy who's being chased by mobsters, leaving the city sounds like a perfect plan."

He met her eyes, his expression unchanging. "It's not them," he said, his voice a little more rough. "I've got other things to take care of here."

She cocked an eyebrow, her lips pulling into a faint, sarcastic smile. "Other people to kill, huh?"

Niko grinned slightly, the familiar bitterness returning to his tone. "Some habits die hard."

Sidney let out a soft breath, almost like she was trying to hold back a laugh. But she didn't push him anymore. She just stared at him for a moment, her gaze sharp but not cold. "Okay," she said after a beat. "I get it. It's fine."

The finality in her tone caught him off guard. There was no anger. No more teasing. Just a simple acceptance, though Niko couldn't help but feel like he was letting her down somehow.

"You're angry."

"No. It's fine," she repeated, more firmly this time. "I'll figure it out."

Sidney didn't say anything else for a while. The quiet settled between them again, but it wasn't the same kind of quiet as before. It was different now, charged. The space between them felt heavier, as if the weight of unspoken things was pressing on both of them.

Niko could feel the shift, the subtle change in the air. His mind was still running through her question, her words, and how she'd said them — like she wasn't just asking him to come along for a job, but something more. He couldn't shake the feeling that the stakes were higher than she was letting on.

He rolled onto his side, facing her more fully, his expression softening. She was still looking away, her eyes on the window, her body angled slightly toward him but not quite enough.

"Sidney," he murmured, his voice low, the words hesitant, as if testing the waters. "I didn't mean to... make you think I'm leaving you out. It's not that simple."

She didn't turn toward him right away. The way her jaw clenched, the way her fingers fidgeted with the blanket, made him feel like she was holding something back. It was strange, seeing her like this—usually, she was direct, unafraid to challenge him. But now, she seemed distant, guarded.

"I didn't ask for an explanation, Niko," she said quietly, though her tone wasn't as sharp as usual. "I get it. You've got your own stuff to deal with."

Niko felt a pang in his chest, something tugging at him. She was always so strong, so self-assured, but now she seemed... vulnerable. And it made him uneasy. He wasn't used to feeling this way — uncertain, like he'd missed something important.

Without thinking, he reached out, his hand lightly brushing against her arm. She tensed for just a second, but didn't pull away. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her shirt, the quiet pulse of something between them, something undeniable.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore, but it felt right to get it out. "I'm not good at… this," he gestured vaguely between them, his other hand tapping the bed, unsure of how to finish the thought.

Sidney turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking toward him. There was something in her gaze, something unspoken, but her lips didn't move. Instead, she just watched him for a moment, and for once, Niko couldn't read her.

Then, without a word, she shifted, her body turning more toward him. She was closer now, her face just inches away from his. The air between them felt thick, charged. Every part of him wanted to close the distance, but something was holding him back.

"You're not the only one with things you can't walk away from, Niko," she said softly, her voice quieter now, but still sharp with the hint of something unspoken. "I understand."

Niko was about to reply, but before he could form the words, Sidney leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against his face. It was enough. Enough for him to close the distance himself, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was more desperate than either of them expected. It wasn't planned. It wasn't calculated. It was just raw, a mix of tension, frustration, and something deeper, something that had been simmering under the surface for too long.

The kiss was brief but intense, a collision of emotions. Niko's hand moved to her cheek, brushing her hair back as his fingers tangled in it. Sidney's response was immediate — she didn't pull away, but her hands gripped the sheets beside her, her body instinctively leaning closer to him.

When they finally broke apart, it was with a deep, shaky breath from both of them. Niko's forehead rested against hers for a moment, his breath uneven. They didn't speak right away. There was nothing to say. Everything had been said in that kiss.

Sidney's voice was soft, almost breathless when she spoke again. "You know… you're really bad at this, right?"

Niko chuckled, a quiet, almost bitter laugh. "I know," he muttered, his thumb brushing over her cheek, as if trying to memorize the softness of it. "I'm still trying to figure it out."

Sidney looked at him then, her blue eyes searching his face, like she was looking for something. "Me too."