Moonshine

"I was thinking Angistri."

I didn't bother to stop the rhythmic slap and swirl of the mop. "What?" I said, incurious.

"Angistri. It's a Greek island. Fairly secluded, utterly beautiful." He massaged the top of his leg and smirked. "Nude beaches." The leer faded as quickly as it had come. "It will be a long time before any Auphe finds us there. We'll find George and off we'll go."

The mop continued to move of its own accord. Back and forth. I followed along with it, silent. I'd finished half the hall before I finally spoke. "I'm sorry."

Having given up on the hopes of getting any sparkling conversation out of me, Goodfellow tilted his head. "Pardon?"

I watched as red-tinted water dripped into the bucket for several seconds before I submerged the mop again. "I'm sorry. Nik and I got you into this mess with the Auphe." The Auphe had made it clear that he'd take what was important to me before he actually took me. The means to save George would be only the first. What would be next? My brother, my friends… I swallowed and clenched the wood handle with a tight fist. Even if Robin hadn't been my friend, he'd still be on the Auphe's shit list. He'd been just as instrumental in bringing them down, if not more, than I had been.

"Caliban." Robin's mouth lengthened, then turned up slightly at the corners. "No one held a gun to my head." His eyes gleamed in reminiscence. "A knife to the throat, yes, but not a gun." He straightened and limped over to take the mop from my hands. "I made my choice, and believe it or not, I have no regrets." He swabbed. "Well, other than my constant exposure to what you imagine to be humor."

"What?" I rubbed a hand over suddenly weary eyes. "No swipe at my fashion sense?"

He took in my jeans and bloodstained T-shirt and gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know defeat when it rears its ugly poly-blend head."

As he started to clean, I pulled the tie from my hair to let the ponytail fall free. I ducked my head and strands of hair swung over my face, a curtain between me and the world. "Robin… thanks."

"For what?" he asked promptly. "For allowing you the privilege of basking in my charm? Gifting you with my wit and wisdom? Of course, it could be that I've saved your melancholy ass on more than one occasion."

I gave an involuntary snort, then looked up to say quietly, "I meant, thanks for sticking around."

"I'm good at many, many things. Excellent really." He finished mopping up the last bit of the blood trail and curled his lips in self-deprecation. "But sticking around hasn't always been one of those things. So… gold star for me." He opened the exit door to peer down the stairs and cursed. "All the way down. All the thrice-damned way down." Threading fingers through his hair, he flashed me a humorless grin. "Fetch the bucket, Cinderella. We have a long night ahead of us."

It was two hours, tops, but it felt longer. Sore and bone tired, I carried the mop and bucket back into the apartment, stepped over the bloodstain on the carpet, and fell onto the couch. No Flay on the floor meant he either was recuperating in the tub, or on one of our beds, or had been tossed out a window. The way my luck had been running it was probably one of the first two options. Damn it. Too tired to reach out and turn off the lamp, I crooked my arm over my eyes and waited for the darkness to come, Promise came first.

"He's scared."

I opened my eyes as her weight settled on a cushion's edge. Her hair lay across her breast in a sleek tail; her face was pale and grave. "Flay?" I grunted. "He should be. Where is the shithead? He better not be bleeding all over my bed."

"Flay is in Niko's bed." Her hand was small, but her grip was strong as she curled her fingers around mine. "But it wasn't Flay I was speaking of."

"I know," I murmured. No, not Flay, but I'd wanted to hang on to the pretense for a moment or so. Niko, who feared nothing on his own behalf, took on the weight of the world when it came to me. I sat up and gently extricated my hand from hers. I'd always thought Niko would've been better off without me.

Now I had to face up to the fact that everyone who knew me was in the same boat, including Promise. "It's the Auphe." An unnecessary statement if ever there was one. "They… shit." I rested my head in my hands. She had seen the worst of it last year; she knew about the Auphe. But there was something I wasn't sure that she did know. I wasn't sure it was something that anyone but Niko and I could know. Straightening, I said frankly, "Last year was bad, but it was just the icing on the cake. The Auphe have been with us our entire lives." My mouth twisted and I corrected, "My entire life. Nik's first four years were monster free." I wondered if he thought that had been long enough.

"And you thought it was over."

"We thought it was over," I confirmed heavily. "If we hadn't, I'm not sure…" I shook my head. Stupid, pointless thoughts. "You and Nik can have my bed." If she stayed, and for Niko's sake I hoped that she did. "I'm too tired to get off the couch anyway."

"Caliban." There was a touch on my hair. Sympathy, understanding, solace… and I wanted none of it.

Pulling away with care, I lay back down. "Good night, Promise. Take care of him."

She sighed and stood, bending to brush a kiss over my hair. "You already do that, the same as he does for you."

The Auphe, George, none of it could stand against the exhaustion. I didn't need a pillow or blanket. Sprawling on the couch in the dim light of the lamp, I slept hard with no dreams. When a nightmare comes true in your waking hours, it doesn't need to follow you into sleep. At least not this time. As tired as I was, I didn't sleep long. The sun, bright and hot, was streaming full force through the blinds when I levered sticky eyelids open, and I put the time around ten.

Four hours' sleep. All things considered, it was more than I'd hoped for. As I pushed off the tenacious remains of sleep, I saw something else as constant as the sun. A dark blond head rested against the arm of the couch, breaths even and deep.

I groaned. "Jesus, Nik. You turn down a bed and a beautiful woman to sleep on the floor. I wonder about your priorities, Cyrano. I do."

"Who's to say I didn't split my time equally?" He'd awakened immediately, probably before I managed to get the first syllable out of my mouth. Instantly alert, he sat up from the boneless slouching position he'd slept in and sheathed the knife that had been cradled in his hand. My own was still tucked under the cushion.

"Trust me. Time spent with Promise and time spent babysitting me don't work out quite the same." I rolled over onto my back and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "You worry about me too much, Nik." My hand made an automatic grab for a braid that was no longer there. I missed Niko's hair, if only for the annoyance it gave him when I tugged on it. Letting my empty hand dangle toward the floor, I went on, "You should worry more about yourself. So should Promise and Goodfellow."

"Don't," he said firmly.

I turned my head back toward him. "Nik, you heard what—"

"I said don't," he overrode me. "It doesn't matter what it said, Cal. Not to me, and not to Promise or Robin. A few may have survived the warehouse explosion, but they won't survive for long. They…" He stopped, lips pressed tight. Closing his eyes, he massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I'm an idiot. They're back, aren't they? They're truly back. Bastards."

I extended an arm and hooked it around his neck for a rough squeeze. "Goodfellow says there's a Greek nudie island he could take us to."