Archive of Our Own

"Drive!" she hollers at the guy with dark hair and bright red glasses in the front seat; he's entirely too trusting, because he listens to her. Nicole almost tumbles into the front seat with the initial burst of speed, and it's only minutes of too-fast too-erratic driving before they've lost the clutch of Dracs who were after her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You're welcome," the driver says, and Nicole sighs, scrubs her hands over her face.

"Sorry. Thanks, I just - fuck. Fuck."

"Pull over so we can let her out."

Despite almost tumbling into her lap, Nicole hadn't actually really noticed anyone in the passenger seat, but there's a girl in a bright pink jacket and the angriest eyes Nicole's ever seen fingering the gun in her shoulder holster.

"Where are you headed?"

"No, your friend's right, let me out."

"It'll take them ten minutes to catch up to you, tops. Where are you headed?"

Nicole bites her lip. This isn't a good position to be in at all - she has no weapons, none of her stuff except the clothes on her back, not even her fucking jacket - and she can't be in debt to anyone, not when she doesn't have anything to pay that debt with. "Nowhere, pull over."

"Dude, listen to her."

"I'm not gonna let you get killed, what the fuck."

The good thing about this car is it's just as easy to jump out without the occupants' consent as it was to jump in; the driver slowed down once the Dracs were out of sight, and Nicole's gotten pretty good at making a quick exit without breaking anything. She's gonna get scraped up like fuck without her jacket, but.

Except she doesn't get to jump, because as soon as she props herself up on the door, the girl in the pink grabs her arm. "What the fuck, no. Pull the fuck over before she kills herself."

He does, finally, barely gets off the road before the car stops and they're both staring at her.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Thanks for the ride."

Pink girl doesn't get the hint, keeps that iron grip on Nicole's wrist. "No," she says again, like Nicole ever asked her permission for anything. "Now we're curious. Sit."

Nicole doesn't like the way the driver is looking at the girl in pink, apprehensive like he doesn't know what she's planning, what she'll do next. Getting into a stranger's car is always a risk - it's not like neon hair is any kind of code, not like there's anything really binding the motorbabies together when there isn't an immediate threat, and maybe these two are worse than an instant death-by-Draculoid.

"I'm Private Dancer," the driver says, and Nicole likes how soothing his voice is even less than the unsure way he looks at his friend. She doesn't want someone who needs to be calmed like a wild fucking animal holding her in a car, no fucking way. "This is Melee Majorette. Where are you going?"

There's no reason not to tell them, really. Either she lies and they kill her now, or she tells the truth and they follow her, kill her later. Or she tells the truth and they give her a ride, drop her off and forget her, no harm done, but optimism is dangerous. Better to weigh the worst possible outcomes - die now on the side of the road, or get where she's going, take any of the hundred chances to escape between here and there.

"I'm Gumby Girl," she says, "and I need to get to Battery City."

"Oh," Private Dancer says, and almost instantly the uncertainty on his face is replaced with a smile. "You picked the right car, then."

*

The sun's too bright in the sky; for the thousandth time Nicole curses the fucking ambush that forced her to leave her shit behind. She needs her sunglasses, her helmet, her fucking gun. And it's too hot now, but she's going to need something warmer than a tank top when the sun finally goes down. Fuck, she's stupid - she knew not to trust anyone, she fucking knew it, and she ignored her instincts anyway.

And now here she is with two more people who know who she is, where she's going. Not what she wants, not yet, but she can't imagine either of them letting that go unknown for long.

Majorette and Private Dancer are arguing over something, over nothing, the kind of argument only friends can have, the kind where no one actually cares who's right or what the stakes are. Nicole lost track of what they were arguing about hours ago, sometime after it switched from who's a better driver to where they can get more dye for the blue streak in Private Dancer's hair. And fuck, that's another thing she left behind, her supplies, and how the fuck is she going to replace her shit if she doesn't have anything to barter with?

"We're stopping for the night," Private Dancer says, taking the turn onto a well-hidden dirt road so sharply Nicole slides almost all the way across the seat before she can brace herself. "We have a safe house here, we can stock you up."

And that should solve the problem, except for the part where Nicole has no fucking idea how she's going to pay them back for anything, and she might be stupid enough to forget not to trust people, but she'll never, ever be stupid enough to forget you never let anyone put you in debt.

"You don't - "

"It's for us way more than it's for you, Gumby. Or do you expect us to protect your ass on top of our own if we get into shit?"

It's a good point, but it doesn't make Nicole any more comfortable with the idea. Still, they're the ones with guns, at least for now, and it's not like arguing is likely to get her anywhere.

"Whatever," she says, because she's not going to be grateful for this even if every second of her life before she hit the road is screaming at her to say thank you.

"That's the spirit," Dancer says, smiles at her too brightly in the mirror. Majorette's just watching her, measured look in her eyes Nicole can't quite read.

*

"Enjoying the show?"

Majorette's been in the doorway since about thirty seconds after Dancer showed Nicole to the dingy too-small room he told her she could change and sleep in. There's a pile of clothes in the corner, probably unwashed but they don't stink, and they almost fit, so she'll take it.

"You weren't lying about being unarmed, at least."

Nicole turns, then, because what the fuck, why would she be letting Draculoids shoot at her without fighting back if she - Majorette's smirking, though, not serious, and Nicole actually laughs a little, the first one she hasn't had to force in a while.

"If you needed that for an excuse to watch, I guess I'm glad I could help."

Majorette steps into the room, then, two strides and she's right in Nicole's space. Nicole's knees were against the bed already, she doesn't have anywhere to back up.

"I don't trust you."

When Nicole opens her mouth to answer - really? I couldn't fucking tell - Majorette's lips are there, her tongue sliding against Nicole's before she can gather her thoughts. And, fuck, it's good, intent and demanding and wet and messy and what the fuck.

Majorette's hands are rough, calloused all over, scratching at Nicole's skin, catching a bit on the cotton of her panties. And she's strong, Jesus, she actually lifts Nicole a little before she pushes forward, dropping Nicole on the bed and climbing over her, kissing her again almost before Nicole realizes she's stopped.

"If you're planning on fucking with us," Majorette says, practically growls, against Nicole's throat, "I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Nicole doesn't doubt for a second she'll do it, or at least try, and that's probably a good reason for her stupid body to not respond to that with a hot spike of pleasure that makes her gasp, her cunt already aching for touch. Majorette's rough, fuck, scraping her teeth and sucking bruises on her way from Nicole's throat to the slight swell of her breasts in her bra.

"I'm not - fuck."

Talking is way, way overrated, even if Nicole thinks she should probably reassure Majorette she's actually not a double agent or a con artist or whatever the fuck Majorette thinks she might be. Whatever, Majorette probably won't believe her anyway, even if Nicole could talk through the haze of goodgoodmore that settled in her brain when Majorette started nipping at her nipples through the flimsy cotton of her bra.

Nothing, absolutely nothing about this makes sense, but it's been a long fucking time since anyone who wasn't trying to kill her actually touched her, longer since she's had this, and Majorette's rough hands are slipping into Nicole's panties, calloused thumb seeking out her clit and rubbing in slow circles, and Nicole doesn't give a fuck what makes sense.

"Look at you," Majorette mutters, air too cold against the soaked fabric of her bra, making Nicole shiver and arch up for more. "You love this."

"Fuck, yes, just - more."

Majorette nips at her nipple one more time, just this side of too rough, and then sits up, jerking her hand out of Nicole's panties - goddammit - and tugging her own shirt off. Nicole doesn't let her get much farther, sits up and presses her lips to the pale skin curving out of Majorette's bra, tugs the fabric down so she can wrap her lips around Majorette's nipple and suck. Majorette tilts her head back and sighs, tangles her fingers in Nicole's hair and presses her face closer, a silent harder. Nicole scrapes her teeth, just a little, rocking her hips in a desperate attempt for friction when Majorette's breath catches in a gasp.

And then she's on her back again, scalp stinging a little, what the fuck, her hair isn't a handle, but Majorette's getting naked, tossing her bra aside and wiggling out of her jeans and underwear in one go. And then she's yanking at Nicole's panties, hard enough Nicole thinks she might rip them if Nicole doesn't arch up to help her out. And, fuck, it's been so long since she's had a chance to get naked for more than just a hurried shower - it's not safe, not when you might get ambushed any minute, when you never know when you'll need to make a quick exit - even the too-rough sheets feel good on her skin.

Majorette's just standing there, looking down at her, lips shiny-slick and eyes dark. It's awkward, the pause out of place when so far the pace has been so frantic, and Nicole spreads her legs, extends one so her toes brush over Majorette's stomach in invitation. It works, snaps her out of whatever trance she was in, and almost before Nicole can blink Majoerette's back on the bed, thigh pressing in against Nicole's cunt, lips demanding on Nicole's own. When Nicole wriggles, shifts for a better position so she can grind against Majorette's thigh, her own rubs up against Majorette's cunt, hot and so fucking wet Nicole's mouth waters a little. Majorette groans into her mouth, fucking her hips against Nicole's thigh, the air in the tiny room thick with arousal.

"Wait, I - wait," Nicole mumbles, has to nip at Majorette's lip to get her to pull back enough her words aren't muffled beyond understanding. "Wait, I just..."

It takes a second of Nicole squirming around for Majorette to get it, to grin wicked and promising at Nicole before she shifts, spreads Nicole's legs wider and settles between her hips so she can press her slick cunt against Nicole's. When Majorette's clit grinds against hers Nicole cries out, arches for more because fuck, fuck that's good. Majorette presses her mouth against Nicole's throat, biting and sucking and muffling her own curses and groans. She's got one hand tangled in Nicole's hair, one pressing her wrist down to the bed, using every bit of her weight to hold Nicole down and rub off on her.

That probably shouldn't be as hot as it is, but Nicole just lets her, rocks her hips up as much as she can and lets it wash over her, the hot pleasure of Majorette's cunt on hers, hot and slick and soft except for the hard nub of Majorette's clit. It's good, it's so fucking good, and Nicole digs her nails into Majorette's shoulders when she comes, hips jerking wildly against Majorette's, so hard she's still struggling to catch her breath when Majorette's teeth clamp on her neck and she shudders through her own orgasm.

Majorette runs her fingers gently over the sorest spot on Nicole's throat when she sits up and shifts away, breasts heaving as she gets her breathing under control.

"I'm sleeping here tonight," she says, as she wiggles back into her jeans.

"Right."

"And I'm a light sleeper. So if you have any plans to do anything while Dancer and I are sleeping...change them."

"Oh. I - right."

Nicole wakes up when it's still dark out; Majorette moved in the night, pressed snugly along Nicole's back, arm over her waist, rather than curled at the other side of the bed. If Nicole were smart, she'd test Majorette's claim, try and wiggle out from under her arm and get out of here. If she doesn't steal anything or hurt anyone, there'd be no reason to be angry, to come after her, and she can't get anyone involved in her fight, not because they just happened to be the only car in sight with the top down.

But it's been a long time since she's had a decent sleep, and Majorette's surprisingly comfortable. Nicole lets her eyes slip closed; there'll be plenty of time to ditch them before Battery City.

*

"No," Majorette's saying when Nicole wakes up, neck achy and stiff from the awkward angle she'd curled up in. "We drop her right inside the checkpoint."

"It might be good to have an extra gun, though, and then we can take her where she's going."

"If you weren't so goddamned trusting," Majorette says, so much ice in her voice Nicole actually shivers, "we wouldn't have any reason to go to Battery City."

There's silence, aside from the low, constant drone of the radio and the ever-present hum of the engine. It's awkward, and Nicole can feel how tense it is without even being able to see their faces.

"Br - Dancer, I - shit, that wasn't - "

"No," Dancer says, "you meant that. You know it's a lie, though, because you know which one of us told them to stop hanging around those assholes."

"I know, I do, I just..."

"How about you don't get to lecture me about trust when you're the one fucking her, how about that? Does that sound fair?"

"Fuck you," Majorette says, but there's no bite to it. "And yes."

*

Six days since the last safe house with plumbing, two days to the next, a week from Battery City, Majorette pulls the car over near an abandoned Pegasus station and says she's not getting back in the car until everyone's at least hosed down. She takes the hose and sprays Dancer first, barely lets him get his jacket off before she's got him coughing and spluttering and cursing her out in the spray.

Majorette turns towards Nicole, then; Nicole braces herself, but Majorette just tells her to strip down a little, waits until Nicole's ready before she actually starts spraying.

Nicole's nipples draw up tight from the way Majorette's watching her - and Majorette is watching her - tighter from the frigid water spraying out of the hose. It's stupid to be doing this, to take time out to wash up, to do anything that requires her to shed her clothes, her weapons, but all Nicole can think is that she could be stupider, could close the negligible space between where she's standing, shivering from the cold water and aching with want, and where Majorette's standing, eyes following her hand as she rinses Nicole off, she could close the space and kiss Majorette, wrap her arms and her legs around her, get Majorette naked and vulnerable, beg Majorette to fuck her right here in the open where anyone could see, where anyone could find them.

Instead she dips her head, bends forward so Majorette can soak her hair, so she can take a break from the heat in Majorette's eyes. It doesn't soften the sharp spike of need shooting up her spine, but it's something.

*

Private Dancer laughs a lot, which is really rare on the road, but it's nice. It'd be nicer if he didn't follow up all his little laughing fits with a wistful look in his eyes and long periods of silence, but Nicole's a lot more used to those, and they don't bring the mood down as much as laughing brings it up.

"And it was coming at me hard," Majorette says, because Private had said Nicole should hear the story of the time Majorette fought off ten Dracs on her own, "just, like, hard, and fast, and they wouldn't stop coming - "

She stops, then. Or maybe she keeps going, but Dancer's laughing so hard Nicole's really glad he's not driving, so loud she can't hear anything else. And when he stops, it's sudden, and his face shifts from the kind of delighted grimace he makes to the kind of frown that makes Nicole want to hug him in the blink of an eye.

"What the fuck?" Majorette asks, instead of starting the story again.

"I miss them," he says, even though it doesn't answer the question. "He - Amazon laughs at my jokes."

"You didn't make a joke," Majorette says, but she takes one hand off the wheel and laces her fingers with Private's anyway.

*

Majorette pins Nicole to the bed and goes down on her for so long Nicole comes three times and can't do much more than lie there and let Majorette get herself off grinding down on Nicole's tongue. When they're both dressed again, Majorette doesn't turn her back to Nicole and pretend to fall asleep right off; she scoots over so her head's on the edge of her pillow, looks at Nicole with serious eyes.

"I still don't trust you enough to tell you what we're doing," she says, and Nicole's gotten used to this, to the constant reminders that Majorette might be willing to joke with her in the car with Private Dancer, might be willing to share her bed and her body, but she's never going to think of Nicole as anything but an intruder. This, staying awake after they fuck to talk, is new, but the sentiment's the same. Nicole just nods.

"But I need to - fuck. Dancer's really worrying me, and I can't - I can't handle this whole thing myself."

"Okay."

Nicole thinks about shifting closer but doesn't actually do it. Majorette's made it pretty clear she likes to be in control of her space, doesn't see anything wrong with intruding on others' but won't tolerate anyone intruding on her own.

"He keeps...laughing at nothing, smiling all the time, he won't talk to me, he's - I don't think he gets how serious this is, how dangerous. Or he does, and it's cracked him, too much stress, I just...fuck."

"I don't know him, I can't really tell you anything about how he's acting."

"No, I know." Majorette scrubs her hand over her face, through her hair, then shifts a little bit closer, tilts her head so her forehead's almost touching Nicole's. "I just needed to get it out."

"Okay," Nicole says, and thinks about brushing the hair back from Majorette's face; she doesn't, at least not until Majorette's eyes are closed and she's started snoring.

*

Any Disco Kids planning a wild night, expect it to get a whole lot wilder - the bouncers ain't friendly, so get those palms nice and greasy with the right kind of bribe.

Nicole understands, mostly because of the way Private and Majorette talk about them, Dr. D's messages are important, but she has no fucking idea what any of them ever mean.

"Fuck," Majorette says. "Fuck, fuck, shitting fuck."

Apparently it makes sense to Majorette, at least. Dancer, too, if the way he goes white and pulls the car over are any indication.

"Fuck," Majorette says again.

"What?"

"The checkpoint. It - we were supposed to have friends at the checkpoint to let us in to the City," Dancer says, over Majorette's never-ending stream of profanity. "Now we don't, and we only have a limited window to get in and out of BL/ind."

"You're breaking into BL/ind?"

Dancer looks a little surprised, then, glances over at Majorette and back at Nicole. Maybe he thought their pillow talk was something other than "I don't fucking trust you."

"Yeah, we - our friends. I - fuck," he says, scrubs his hands over his face.

Majorette pauses, then, sits up and turns around to look at Nicole. "What are your thoughts on shooting your way into a city so you can kidnap a couple guys from the most secure building in it?"

The idea that Majorette's actually asking her help is so surprising Nicole says, "I'll do it," before she really thinks it through.

*

BL/ind is incredibly creepy, dark empty hallways that echo every footstep. Dancer gives them a thumbs-up before he disappears down another silent hallway; Nicole glances back and Majorette motions for her to keep going straight.

When Nicole looks away from Majorette, there's a Draculoid right the fuck in front of her. Reaching for his gun.

Nicole tries to swallow the panic threatening to take hold, and reaches for her own gun. She gets it aimed just as the Drac does - and then time speeds up. Majorette hollers, crashes into Nicole as she's pulling the trigger, sends her shot wide. She fumbles, almost drops it, aims again; Majorette grabs her wrist and yanks her arm violently back, gun clattering to the floor and going off again.

The Drac starts running; Majorette takes off after him.

"Fuck, I - fuck, what the fuck."

Majorette's not listening, didn't even look back after she wrenched Nicole's arm. Motherfucker, it hurts, and she can't fucking move it, and fuck, she was supposed to be the one they couldn't trust? Majorette grabbed her gun, so she's defenseless and down one arm in the middle of Better Living's fucking headquarters and this is it, this is where she's going to die.

"Fuck, what happened?" Private Dancer's at her side so quiet and sudden she jumps at his voice. She doesn't say anything, doesn't know what he'll do if she tells him the truth. What if he thinks she's trying to frame Majorette for something, turn them against each other, or that she must have done something wrong to make Majorette hurt her and he should probably finish the job. She doesn't have to worry about answering, because the Draculoid she sees over Dancer's shoulder gives her an obvious excuse.

"Dancer, there's - behind you."

"He's fine, don't worry about it. Lemme see your arm."

"It's just - "

"Dislocated. I - think painless thoughts, okay?"

Nicole doesn't know what the fuck is going on, why Majorette would hurt her but Private Dancer wouldn't, why Dancer isn't worried about the fucking Draculoid standing right there when his gun's still holstered, why the fuck there's a Draculoid standing right there not hurting them. But her arm fucking hurts and if Dancer makes it stop hurting she doesn't need to know anything else right now. It's possible she's a little delirious from the pain.

"Motherfucker!"

"Sorry, shit, sorry, but it's back in now. What happened?"

Majorette picks then to come running back through; she's got a tall, skinny Draculoid, the one who almost shot Nicole, the one she was aiming at when Majorette dislocated her fucking arm, by the wrist, and she barely looks at them as she sprints by. "Come on, come the fuck on!"

And then it's a blur, throbbing pain in Nicole's arm, too-bright lights of the maze of hallways they came through, alarms and blinking lights and Dancer shooting behind them as he tries to run backwards. And then there's darkness, merciful fucking darkness, and Dancer shouts in pain but he doesn't go down, and they're out the door and around the corner and they can't stop running.

"We need to change our plans," Majorette yells over her shoulder. "Sweet Little Dude isn't coming."

"Tell me that's a fucking lie, what the fuck, we can't - where the fuck do we go?"

"I know a place," Nicole says, and instantly regrets it; Majorette glances back at her, looks at her for the first time since the Draculoid Majorette still has by the arm raised his gun at Nicole. "I - it's safe."

"It fucking better be," Majorette says, but listens when Nicole starts shouting directions at her.

*

Majorette and Private Dancer are looking at her like she's fucking insane. They have every reason to, the safe houses they kept bringing her to were small, run down, out-of-the-way shacks, and this is...well. This is the apartment building mostly populated by Better Living's higher-up employees and their families.

"If you have somewhere better to go, bye. If not, trust me." The ache in her shoulder has settled, a dull throbbing reminder that right now she's not the one who should be begging for anyone's trust. Of the four people she's standing with, two are Draculoids and one dislocated her shoulder because she tried to shoot a Draculoid, she's hardly the bad guy here. At least Kevin has security, so even if this is the bad idea she thinks it might be, the odds will be a little more in her favor.

Nicole can feel their eyes on her when she presses the buzzer for one of the top-floor rooms, burning into her back while she wait an eternity for the reply.

"Who's there?"

"Kevin, oh my God, Kevin, I need to - I have friends, we need to come up."

"Nicole? Is that - what the - where the Hell have you - "

"I'll tell you if you let me up before we get killed."

"Right, right, sorry, Mike'll be right down."

It feels like an eternity; the building's well-lit, like fucking spotlights showing anyone who might have followed them exactly where to look. When Nicole turns around, Majorette is steadfastly not looking at her; Dancer's noticed, maybe, he's watching Majorette out of the corner of his eye. The two Draculoids they brought with them are standing so still Nicole's not sure they're alive - if they're breathing, it's too shallow to see.

When the door slides open to reveal Kevin's bodyguard, Majorette lets out a soft noise - and Dancer flings himself forward, throwing his arms around the bodyguard's neck. Well, that's...what?

"The fuck are you two doing here?" Mike asks, returning Dancer's hug with a fraction of the enthusiasm.

"I don't actually know," Majorette says, her eyes darting back and forth between Mike and Nicole. "Gumby Girl said this was safe."

"Mostly," Mike says, and holds out a bag. "There's video surveillance on the elevators, I brought masks. And is that - are they - "

"Sleepover Prince and Amazon," Dancer says, finally lets go of Mike's neck.

"Fuck. Okay, come on, Kevin's probably freaking out right now."

*

Nicole's curled up on the big soft bed in Kevin's guest room; she should be sleeping, but her arm hurts too much to get comfortable enough. Kevin was supposed to bring her a painkiller or something, but with two guys probably already going into withdrawal from whatever it is that turns a man into a Draculoid, he's probably forgotten. She'd get it herself, Kevin's neat and organized enough she'd probably have no trouble finding something, but the bed's so soft she's a little reluctant to get up.

"Are you sleeping?" Dancer's voice from the doorway is soft, like he's sure she is and doesn't want to wake her. Dancer's a nice guy.

"No, not really."

She sits up enough to look at him; in the shadows he looks tired, so worn out she's not sure how he's standing.

"I wanted to - I need to meet a guy in the morning, get an update out, but I don't know anything."

"Oh, um, okay." Nicole sits up more, winces when she forgets for a second and puts pressure on her arm. "Come on, you look like you're about to fall over."

When Dancer sits on the bed, he blinks, bounces a little. Beds like this are a rare luxury; Nicole knows from the safe houses along the way what he must be used to, and this isn't it.

"Kevin's dad works for Better Living. Um, Kevin does, too."

"But not really."

Nicole shrugs, winces again. "I don't know? The last time I saw him I didn't know anything about...anything. I didn't know until tonight there was anything up with him."

"But you brought us here."

"I wanted - we needed to go somewhere, and I wanted it to be somewhere - Kevin's my friend, and he has security, I wanted it to be somewhere I was safe, in case...in case."

"So you don't know much more than I do. I know Mike's one of ours, but we stopped getting updates when he started the job with Kevin."

"Okay. Um. What's - who were - "

"They're friends. We were - one of them was making new friends, helping out some other guys, and one of them was a - a spy, I guess, he was with BL the whole time. They're friends. Sleepover Prince, the tall one, he's - he and Majorette, they're...close. Kind of a brother-sister thing, even though they're not." Dancer pauses, bites his lip a little. "She did that to your arm, didn't she?"

"I - yeah, he - the tall one, he was gonna shoot, so I - I was gonna shoot him first, I didn't - "

"I'm sorry," Dancer says, pats her good shoulder. She believes it, believes him. "I, um, it probably hurts, huh."

"Uh, yeah."

"Let me - I'll go see what Kevin has for you. I had some stuff in the car, but I won't be able to get back there until night, at least, unless I can get someone to pick it up for me."

"It's okay."

"You should be resting; you can't do that if you're in pain."

"So should you."

Dancer smiles weakly at her. "I need to take care of some stuff. It'll - I'll be fine, just, I'll get you something for the pain and then you have to sleep."

He's halfway to the door when he stops, turns back to her. "Nicole, is that your real name?"

"I - uh - "

"Brendon. I'm Brendon."

"You didn't have to - "

"It's not really fair, if I can hold that against you and not give you something to hold against me, right?"

"I guess."

"And Majorette, she - she'll be sorry, when she's done dealing with this. I don't know if it helps, but she will."

Nicole just nods; her shoulder still aches, but she's still almost asleep when Brendon tiptoes back in and leaves a handful of pills and a glass of water on the nightstand.

*

On the third day of withdrawal, the shorter former-Drac - Amazon, Brendon had said, Amazon Dot Jon - gets violent. One minute he's curled in on himself on the bed, whimpering softly and shaking through it, the next he's up and stalking towards Nicole, practically snarling. He gets her backed up against the wall before she snaps out of the what-the-fuck fog and pushes back, trying to get him back to the bed. He's strong, though, probably stronger than her even without the artificial strength of the Draculoid drug cocktail, and her arm still hurts, and fuck this is not what she expected when she said she'd take watch for a little while.

She blinks once and Amazon has her bad arm by the wrist, and she really can't tell from the look in his eyes what he's planning on doing; twice and he's let go, snarling as Majorette gets him from behind and drags him back to the bed, managing to pin him for the minute or two before the episode passes and he's back to gasping in pain.

"I - thanks," Nicole says. Majorette looks at her, startled, like she's just seeing for the first time who she helped.

"You need to be more careful," is all she says, and goes back to the master bedroom where she's been attached to Sleepover Prince's side.

*

It's a week before Nicole actually gets any time to spend with Kevin, between his job and the constantly rotating job of looking after Amazon and Sleepover. The ambient lights of the apartment are a warm orange when Nicole wakes up to the quiet sounds of someone making coffee - it's dawn, or close to it, and for the first time since they got here that's the only thing breaking the silence.

She can tell the second he sees her over the screen he's likely checking the latest news on (any other time, she'd assume comic strips, not news, but harboring fugitives has apparently turned him a bit more aware) because his expression changes from a sort of considering blankness to a frown.

"Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet."

"I think I've forgotten how to sleep when it's quiet, actually. Don't worry about it," she says, busies herself fixing her own cup of coffee. There's a pound of Better Living coffee next to the pot, but the sludge in her cup is the same crap she's been drinking since she left home. She shouldn't complain, the BL coffee might taste better but it's almost certainly laced with something.

Kevin lets her finish stirring too much sugar into her cup and sit down before he sets the screen aside. "You - where did you go? It...your parents went crazy, Nic - "

"Gumby. If you call me Nicole I'll forget I'm someone else."

He frowns again, but nods. "I just - they were crazy. You and your brother just vanished."

"He was - he'd been acting weird, just - hiding something, you know? And I caught him sneaking out - he had a car, he was leaving for good, and I couldn't - I made him take me."

That might have been the stupidest thing Nicole’s ever done, but if anyone understands it’ll be Kevin. The idea of having someone right there her whole life, by her side as long as she could remember, to know that if he was going he probably wasn’t coming back...not doing something about that wasn’t an option. And Kevin doesn’t push, doesn’t ask why she would do that, what she was thinking, doesn’t tell her it was stupid, just gentles his voice and asks, "Why isn't he here, Nic - Gumby?"

Nicole hunches over a little, clutches her mug a little harder. She hasn't had to talk about it, hasn't really had to think about it - she had a plan, it was a lot easier to mindlessly stick to that than to actually deal with it. Some things about growing up in Battery City she'll probably never lose - being unwilling to confront her feelings as long as there's an alternative is useful sometimes, at least, unlike the aversion to loud noises and bright colors.

"He left me. I woke up one morning and he was just gone, he...there was a note, but it didn't say anything worthwhile. I guess he thought he was putting me in danger, or something. Except he left me...Jesus, I didn't know anything, I still barely know anything, he didn't - I didn't know there was any kind of organization or networks or whatever, I didn't know how to handle it when Dracs started coming after me, I didn't - he left me helpless, totally fucking helpless."

"So you came back."

Nicole sighs, nods. "I didn't know what else to do. I thought at least if I came home I wouldn't get killed."

"They're not here anymore, your family."

It's the absolute last thing Nicole wanted to hear, but she's not entirely sure she's surprised. It was hard, on her parents' level of security clearance, to do anything without the company finding out about it, of course someone would notice two of their kids disappearing in the night, of course the Dracs who ran into them out in the desert would report back.

"I can find them for you, they're safe. They're just...not here. I'll have Mike get the word out we have you, if that's what you want."

"Please," she says, and Kevin smiles at her, just a little, warm and reassuring like he always is. She has questions for him, a million questions, what about his family, who the fuck Mike even is, how can Kevin be involved in all this without losing his job, but the peaceful quiet in the kitchen is a welcome change from the constant radio broadcasts Brendon - Dancer, she can't get in the habit of using real names - keeps on all the time, loud music and frequent updates from Dr. D. She won't break it again, not right now.

*

"No," Dancer's saying, every line of his body radiating frustration. "You can't do that to her."

Nicole probably isn't supposed to hear this; Dancer's talking to Majorette, and Nicole's the only other "her" she thinks he could be talking about. Sleepover's awake, resting with his head on Majorette's thigh, her hand stroking through his hair gently, fondly. Mike's sitting with Amazon, Kevin's at work, and Nicole was going absolutely crazy alone in the sitting room.

None of the three are looking at the door, though, and her options are announce her presence, turn around and go back to the silent isolation of the couch, or find out what exactly Majorette can't do to her.

"She was going to shoot him," Majorette says, and Nicole can see the muscles in her arm tighten.

"He was going to shoot her."

"I didn't mean to," Sleepover mumbles; it's the first time Nicole's heard his voice, and it's raspy, pained. He needs water, probably. She could get him some. "It wasn't, like...I wasn't."

"We know that. She didn't. And, dude, when a Drac is aiming a gun at me, I shoot first, ask later, and you do too. Apologize, Jesus, you owe her that much."

"I don't owe her a damn thing," Majorette says, and Nicole needs to leave right now because it turns out she doesn't actually want to hear this, fuck. So she does, makes the right decision for once, leaves to get them some water so she can come back to their company. Assuming she's welcome, that is.

*

Amazon has four more violent outbursts before they figure out he stays calm - as calm as he can, tense and agitated against the pain of his body trying to function without drugs - when he's being touched, and his recovery gets simultaneously easier and harder to help with when they realize that. Dancer turns into a little bit of a problem; he understandably doesn't want to leave Amazon's side unless absolutely necessary, and it takes Nicole far too long to get him to accept that when Dancer's tense and agitated from lack of sleep, he doesn't actually keep Amazon all that calm. Longer still to convince him the sleep he's getting on the chair in the guest bedroom isn't doing him any good, and even when he believes them it takes Mike physically carrying him to the sitting room couch and keeping him there with crossed arms and an angry stare before he'll actually sleep.

It's weird, a little, to fall asleep pressed against someone she's never actually spoken to, but Nicole gets used to it quickly enough. She's always slept better next to a warm body, anyway, and the longer the withdrawal goes on, the more Amazon becomes a normal warm body, not a shivering sweaty mess. She takes days, reads and naps on and off while Dancer rests, or updates the network, or spends time with Sleepover Prince and Majorette.

Or Sleepover Prince, at least; his recovery is much quicker than Amazon's, and it's a matter of days before he's up and wandering around, sending Mike out to find him fabric so he can reconstruct what he seems to be absolutely certain was the finest outfit in the history of the motorbabies, arguing with Kevin about shoes of all things, even just sitting for long, silent hours watching Amazon sleep. And suddenly, with Majorette no longer tied to Sleepover's side, Nicole can't go anywhere in the apartment without running into her.

Considering Nicole can't look at Majorette without her shoulder throbbing and her fight-or-flight response kicking in, that's kind of a problem. Kevin's probably going to kill her for the bowls of cereal she keeps leaving half-eaten in the dining room because Majorette sits down at the far end of the table with a sandwich, and when Majorette's looming in the doorway to the guest room, Nicole can feel the effect her reaction has on Amazon.

It would help if she weren't so silent all the time, if she didn't just drift through Nicole's space silent and cold, so much more the violent woman that hurt Nicole than the one she'd gotten used to traveling with. But she doesn't talk, at least to Nicole, doesn't really acknowledge her presence at all, and that's worse than anything.

*

Someone's poking Nicole's forehead, her shoulder, pulling her clumsily out of the depths of a really nice nap. She swats a few times, but since whoever's tapping her is awake, they always manage to avoid her hand.

"Stoppit," she mumbles, burrows her head further into where the inconsiderate asshole's neck curves into their shoulder.

"I just - who are you?"

The voice is unfamiliar enough Nicole snaps awake and sits right up, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep out of her eyes. Amazon's looking at her in sincere confusion, eyes completely clear for the first time since before Dancer got his mask off.

"Oh my God, hi there."

"Uh," he says, "hi."

"Shit, sorry, I'm - who cares."

"I'm kind of curious, actually, so - "

Nicole isn't listening, because Dancer needs to get in here now, and her getting him in here is way more important, probably. "Gumby Girl," she says over her shoulder while she waits for the stupid door to slide open, and then yells for Dancer loud enough to make herself wince.

*

"When did he wake up?"

Majorette's voice over Nicole's shoulder makes her jump about a foot in the air, what the fuck. She spins, makes a quick note of the best way to get around Majorette and away, and only feels a little bit bad when Majorette's face falls a little.

"I dunno, I was napping. Um. Probably not long ago."

"Good. Awesome."

"Um," Nicole says, because it is, but there are people Majorette hasn't been ignoring, people who aren't kind of scared of her, who she can probably celebrate with.

"That's - you've been really good to him."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Nicole expects that to be what turns this into a fight, for Majorette to remind Nicole that she'd been planning on killing Sleepover Prince. She's not entirely expecting the reminder to be verbal, either, although unless Majorette's hiding a weapon on her right now, there isn't anything in easy reach.

Instead, Majorette bites her lip, shifts uncomfortably. "I - about that. I'm, uh - he's really important to me."

"He would have shot me."

"I know."

"You would have let him."

"No. I was close enough to stop him."

"But you stopped me."

Majorette steps back, then, giving Nicole a little more space. She gets it; she's so tense she's practically vibrating. This isn't something she wants to relive, because she almost got killed, and she did get hurt, and she can't fucking believe anyone would argue with her about who the victim is right now.

"I'm sorry," is the last thing Nicole expects to hear, but it's what Majorette says.

"Uh."

"You were going to shoot him, and he's important to me."

"You said that already."

"It wasn't about you, it was about him."

"But I'm the one you attacked."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

Okay. That's. "Okay," Nicole says, and takes the quickest route around Majorette to find Kevin and calm down for a while.

*

Kevin doesn't calm her down, though. Kevin takes one look at her and puts tea on, which is a start, but then he starts talking, and oh God why does everyone have to talk to her today.

"Nick's supposed to come for dinner tonight," he says, sets a ceramic cat full of about a billion kinds of tea bags in front of her so she can pick.

"Tonight as in - ?

"He's supposed to be here in three hours, which means he'll be here in two. Two and a half, tops."

He smirks a little when Nicole immediately snatches a tea bag labeled Stress Relief in swirly script and hands it to him, but it's the most panicked smirk she's ever seen.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just found out. You know how he is, he talked me into it, and I didn't have a good excuse, and - I need you to fix this."

"Okay, I'll just pull another safe house out of my ass. One that's close enough to move Amazon to without hurting him, of course, and - "

"We're not moving anyone," Kevin says, winces when the kettle whistles. "I just need you to be the distraction."

"I'm a refugee like everyone else, Kevin, he can't see me here."

"You're not, though. You're a missing person. You could have been kidnapped, or brainwashed, or any one of a million things. You showed up at my door all filthy and worn down, I could hardly be blamed for wanting to spare you the ordeal of official questioning until you're stronger."

"That could go wrong in so many ways."

"I know, but it's Nick. There's no way he'll be able to pay attention to anything but you. It's the best chance we have."

Nicole scrubs her hands through her hair and wills her tea to cool so she can relieve some damn stress, already. "Okay," she says, "but you get to tell everyone else."

*

"I just - Kevin, fuck."

Nick hasn't stopped looking at Nicole since he walked in five, maybe ten, minutes ago, but he hasn't said one word to her yet. It's unsettling, the intensity of his attention was always just a little bit too much to handle.

"She just...showed up, I don't know," he says. "I - I took her off the security tapes, I know it's not okay, but I wanted - she was a mess, right, and I needed to give her some time."

"No," Nick says. Nicole's pretty sure he hasn't blinked. "No, yeah, I get it, the questioning would be - there's gonna be a lot of questioning."

When Nicole left, Kevin was fumbly, awkward, and unfailingly honest; Nick was the kind of guy to give twenty minute lectures on rules and the crumbling of society to jaywalkers. Kevin's lying to one of the people he should be able to trust most in the world, and Nick's acting like hiding things from BL/ind security is no big deal, and Nicole needs to not be the diversion any more, it's too much.

Dinner is long and weirdly quiet - the radio is, of course, off, but Kevin's not telling stupid anecdotes only he thinks are funny, Mike's standing in the corner with his eyes hard and his arms crossed instead of laughing at Kevin's stupid anecdotes, and Nick's just. Nick might as well not even be there, except for the way his eyes keep landing on Nicole just long enough to make her want to hide.

"I missed you," he says, waiting for Kevin to bring in coffee and dessert. "I - you just disappeared."

Nicole had a ring sewn into a secret pocket of the jacket she left behind when the Dracs ambushed her, too expensive to wear, not flashy enough to excuse away as the sort of costume touch the motorbabies seem to thrive on. A promise ring, Nick had said; he'd meant that part, she's almost certain, meant it far more than the to keep our parents off our backs he'd added when she thought about saying no.

"I didn't," she says, but she doesn't know how to finish, doesn't know how to tell him she only remembered to wonder how he would feel about it when she was out of the city without hurting him. It doesn't matter, anyway, because as soon as Kevin comes in Nick goes back to his clench-jawed stony-eyed silence.

When he leaves, Nicole goes right to the guest room, and she must look as unsettled as she feels because Dancer and Amazon just open their arms and let her in.

*

Amazon's only been lucid for a week, only been up and walking around and taking care of himself like a normal person for half that, when Kevin takes advantage of one of the rare moments no one's napping and crowds them all into the sitting room.

"If it were up to me, you could stay here forever," he says, and after the way he's been watching Ryan's outfit take shape with hearts in his eyes, after catching him snoring on the couch in front of old cartoons with Amazon and Dancer, if they don't believe him they're assholes. "But I can't keep you safe, not four of you, not in an apartment BL/ind pays for."

"We can get you out of here tonight," Mike says, "Butcher and Sisky are the only guards on checkpoint duty, I just need to say the word to get the elevator camera malfunctioning and it'll be quick and casualty-free."

It takes them ten minutes to pack up, even with Sleepover's half-finished sewing projects littered around the apartment, and Nicole hides because she can't decide if she's glad she's staying or wishes she was going with them and looking at them makes it harder to ignore how messed-up her head is.

Ten minutes after midnight, Amazon and Dancer pull her, then Kevin, into overly-tight group hugs. Majorette and Sleepover hug Kevin, too, but Sleepover barely looks at her and Majorette just mumbles something that mostly sounds like goodbye and maybe I'm sorry.

Neither Nicole nor Kevin sleep, not until Mike reminds Kevin he has work in the morning and has to be alert enough to go through questioning about the high rise's security malfunction. Nicole sits up the rest of the night alone, listening to the little radio Dancer left behind, waiting for Dr. D to announce the Disco Kids are on the road again before she turns it off and retreats to the now-private guest room.

*

It's easy to get into a routine at Kevin's place. Nicole gets up when Kevin and Mike leave for work, makes a nice big breakfast with the kitchen all to herself, spends her days tidying up and reading (and quilting, once Kevin brings home some supplies, because Kevin is the kind of guy who remembers the hobbies Nicole had a year that seems like a lifetime ago). She lets Nick take her out a couple times, with too much security to secluded places so no one will see her, until Kevin lectures her about leading him on.

It's...it's nice. But it's not - something isn't right, isn't all there. There's an uneasy restlessness bubbling up inside Nicole, threatening to spill out. When Kevin comes to her room late, after he's usually been asleep for hours, she's not sure if it's because he doesn't see it, or because he does.

"Mike doesn't want me to have you do this," he says, "because he thinks you'll do something stupid. But I trust you, and this is time-sensitive, and neither one of us can get away tonight without trouble."

Kevin hands her a thin folder; one sheet of paper inside has directions to a car waiting outside the checkpoint, then directions to a rendezvous point to deliver the message. The other has the message, an ambush waiting for - fuck. Waiting for the Disco Kids at one of their safe houses.

"I won't be stupid," she says, and whether Kevin knows it's a lie or not he hands over a bag, a Drac mask and uniform so she can get out of the city freely.

*

Nicole meets the guy with tights and rollerblades, gives him the message because she knows they'll be listening. Then she takes the car and drives away from Battery City, because she knows exactly where that formerly safe-house is.

There's a fight already in progress when she brings the car to a screeching halt; when she kicks in the door Majorette looks up, freezes for a split second too long, and it gives one of the Dracs a perfect window to take aim and fire right at her.

*

It hurts. It - everything hurts, holy shit, what the fuck. The pain's so sharp, everything else goes fuzzy; Nicole can hear shouting, more rayguns going off, but it's all distant, out of focus.

There are hands on her, on her back, her legs, dull spots of pressure through the sharp ow-fuck-ow, and then everything spins so violently she wretches.

"Get her out of here, we're fine, fuck, go," she hears, and then the world lurches around her again, again, keeps moving. Someone's holding her, must be, running with her and oh God, Nicole's going to throw up all over whoever it is, she - it hurts. She tries to close her eyes, shut them against the way the sky bounces in her vision with every step, but it makes her carrier shout, too close and too loud for the pounding in her head.

"Don't, shit, you hit your head, you can't - don't, fuck."

Nicole wants to argue, she needs to close her eyes so badly, but her mouth isn't working. Somewhere, through the fog, she knows whoever's carrying her is right, knows there's something bad about hitting her head then closing her eyes, but she's miserable, she just wants to sleep.

It doesn't really matter, though - the bouncing, the pain, are too much for her and it's all she can do to keep her eyes open while she lets herself over to the fog in her head.

*

"Majorette, shit, you have to let me do this."

"You're hurting her."

"The giant hole in her ribs is hurting her, asshole, I'm fixing her."

Nicole's body is drawn up tight against the pain that's settled enough she can tell it's all radiating from her side. There are hands on her again, still; she can only tell Majorette's are meant to be soothing because they're farther away from the white-hot place where her nerves are screaming loudest. They feel like knives, though, Majorette's fingers - Amazon's, too, but he says he's fixing her and she's inclined to believe him - she's so fucking sensitive. Still, she can't bring herself to tell Majorette to stop.

"Can't it wait until she can sleep?"

"Sure," Amazon says, "and she'll get an infection and die, and then you'll blame me for that, too."

"Guys," Dancer cuts in, voice sharper than Nicole thought it could be, "stop being assholes. Amazon, fix her faster. Majorette, let him."

Nicole's pretty sure she likes Dancer best, and not just because he's one of the people not touching her when she hurts like this.

"I am sorry it hurts so much," Amazon says, quieter; Nicole wants to tell him it's okay, she understands, but something scrapes over the white-hot nerves all the pain's coming from and she loses the ability to do anything but grit her teeth against the pain.

*

Nicole's asleep before Amazon even finishes telling her it's okay to; every time she wakes up, she's alone, but there's always fresh water and usually a little bit of protein shake within reach.

When she finally wakes up enough to actually pull herself out of bed, she find the Disco Kids around the tiny table in the tiny kitchen, playing poker almost silently. Sleepover sees her first, which isn't ideal because she still has no idea how to read his monotone, and she has no idea if his flat "she lives!" is meant to indicate they really thought she was going to die.

"Of course she does," Amazon says, "I'm awesome. And I have three aces."

"I have two," Dancer says, "which is exactly why I didn't want to play with this deck until we checked it. I'm pretty sure there's, like, seventy cards here."

"You're all assholes," Majorette says; they look confused until she stands up and motions Nicole over. "I don't think anyone else is gonna offer you a chair."

"It's fine, I've been lying down for - "

"A week."

"A week? Shit, then yeah, I need to stand up for a while."

"Bullshit." Majorette reaches out, then stops with her hand halfway to Nicole's arm. "I probably can't drag you over without hurting you, but sit the fuck down before you fall over."

"Doctor's orders," Amazon says cheerfully, then goes right back to arguing about whether the game is more or less fun with the kind of fucked-up decks someone named Sweet Little Dude leaves behind. Majorette ignores them, just hovers over Nicole for a minute before walking over to shove at Sleepover Prince, who's still talking the entire time he stands, lets Majorette get settled, and sits back down in her lap.

"It's stupid and pointless," Dancer says again, then smiles across the table at Nicole. "Can I get you anything?"

A shower. Ten minutes of her life back so she can make a better decision. Hell, the last two years of her life back.

"You can deal me in," she says, because stupid and pointless sounds about right for now.

*

The safe house they move to when Amazon says it's okay for Nicole to be moved is in the middle of nowhere, far enough from the road they walk for almost twenty minutes after they park the car. One bedroom opens onto the roof, and Nicole spends so much time up there she's pretty sure Amazon and Dancer are taking turns checking on her.

"You never told us why you were going to Battery City," Dancer says one evening while the sun sets. They'll have to go inside soon, it gets cold fast out here.

"Neither did you."

He sits up, then, looks at her. "We should have."

"Yeah," she says, makes a concentrated effort not to rub at her shoulder, not to let it show on her face that her mind instantly snaps to all the ways she could have been killed walking into BL/ind unaware of what they were doing or why. "You probably should."

Nicole waits for him to push, to say if we should have, you should, but he just looks at her in silence until she can't meet his eyes anymore, until she has to look back out to the last few lines of pink on the horizon.

"I was going home," she says, when they start to fade, when her skin starts to goosebump. "I don't think I really belong out here."

"Did we," he starts, bites his lip, tries again. "Why did you come back?"

She knows, or think she knows, what he expects her to say, what he thinks the answer is. What it should be, anyway. She's not sure he's wrong, exactly, but not so sure he's right,

"It wasn't there any more," she says, stands up to go inside.

"Is it here?"

Nicole doesn't know the answer to that; she pretends she didn't hear him. He lets her.

*

Nicole's not sure it counts as deja vu when something that actually happened once actually happens again, but there's definitely something familiar about Majorette lurking in the doorway while Nicole's wearing nothing but her bra and panties.

"Is this, like, a thing for you?"

"Um," Majorette says. "No, I just - your side looks better."

It looks like someone took a bite out of Nicole, a large someone, and Amazon said he's not sure it'll ever not look like that. But she's scarring over already, at least, ugly scars instead of the angry red-and-black mess it was. It makes her look tougher than she is, maybe, like the kind of person who's capable of holding her own instead of the kind of person who never should have hit the road in the first place.

"Here," Majorette says, steps into the room and holds her hand out for the jar of goop Amazon told her to keep it moisturized with. "Let me."

Majorette hasn't touched Nicole since - God, probably since she dislocated Nicole's arm, and maybe that's what her calloused fingers should be making Nicole think of, but every image in her head is before that, the way Majorette's hands felt before Nicole had to think about how much they could hurt her. The skin at the edge of the scar is sensitive; Nicole always avoids it, scared it might hurt, but Majorette's just making her shiver, too much sensation.

She's standing behind Nicole, free hand resting on Nicole's uninjured side while she works, and she's - Nicole wants to tilt her head, kiss her, get her undressed and touch all of her skin.

"Good?" Majorette asks, voice just a little shaky.

"Yeah, it's - thank you."

The air's so thick around them Nicole's surprised she doesn't have trouble breathing; it crowds in around her, pushes her back against Majorette (it's the air, of course it is, Nicole didn't just shift back on her own). Majorette sucks in a breath, tightens her hands on Nicole's hips - ow, fuck, okay, that hurts. Nicole hisses, and Majorette steps back.

"You didn't - " Nicole starts, can't quite get the have to stop touching me out before Majorette's to the door.

"I was - dinner. Dinner's ready, is what I was supposed to tell you. So. Uh. If you want to eat."

Majorette's out the door and down the stairs before Nicole can say anything else.

*

In the middle of Nicole's fourth week with the Disco Kids, a spandex-clad courier skates up to their door with a letter for Nicole, too much information that's too personal to share over the air waves. She reads it on the roof, over and over until Dancer comes out to check on her.

"Everything okay?"

She hands up one of the pages, from between the lectures about doing something stupid and disappearing without telling Kevin and the directions for getting in touch when she decides what to do next. Nick and I "uncovered" some "new information" about your original disappearance, your parents & sister are cleared and back in BC. Under heavy scrutiny, though; we're working on it, but if you come back you'll need to be here for the forseeable future. Here, and on your best behavior.

"Okay," Dancer says, hands her back the page so she can shuffle it back in where it goes.

"I think I need another ride to Battery City," she says, and he doesn't argue, or ask if she's sure, just nods and says they can leave in the morning.

*

Majorette's holding the keys when Nicole wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table finishing off a pot of coffee like she's been there for a while, like maybe she woke up early or stayed up all night so she'd be awake for this.

"I'm taking you back," she says. "Um. Unless you really don't want me to. But I'd really like to."

Nicole doesn't understand Majorette at all, and she's not sure she wants to anymore. Except that's a lie; there's a reason she came back, and it wasn't any of the guys, and there's a reason she jumped in front of that gun and it wasn't panic or temporary insanity.

"Okay," she says, even though she's not sure this is the best idea. "Okay. Let's go."

Majorette doesn't talk once they're in the car, just stares at the road ahead. She - fuck, it's like she's made a game out of fucking with Nicole's head, out of finding all the ways she can possibly be confusing.

Like, for example, pulling over after an hour of driving to say, "I don't want to do this."

"You asked to," Nicole reminds her, tries not to let it show in her voice that she totally believes Majorette is capable of leaving her by the side of the road to walk home.

"I don't want you not to come back," she says.

"Okay," Nicole says, because she doesn't know what to do with that.

"I fucked up a lot. And then you came back, and I thought, okay, I could not fuck up this time. And then you - why the fuck did you do that, because now I owe you my fucking life and I can't look at something that big and not fuck up."

"I'm not going to apologize."

"I don't want you to, just. I want a third chance. But I don't think I should ask you for that."

"You just did," Nicole says, and Majorette looks back out at the road.

"I don't - I wasn't gonna do this. I was just gonna bring you home so you'd have one good thing I did for you to think of."

Nicole doesn’t know what to say to that, and Majorette’s apparently done talking. The silence stretches out over the horizon, as long as the road they were on. Longer, maybe - at least she knows where the road ends.

“Majorette,” she starts, but she still doesn’t know what to say, what comes next.

“Spencer,” she says, quiet and more unsure than Nicole’s ever heard her. “My name is Spencer.”

Silence, again, but it’s not - Nicole wants to talk, wants to say - fuck, all of a sudden Majorette - Spencer - trusts her, or maybe she’s trusted Nicole for a while and couldn’t say it. And maybe that shouldn’t change anything, maybe if Nicole were just a little smarter, a little better at taking care of herself, she would end the conversation now and go the fuck home. Of course, if she were either of those, she wouldn't have jumped in front of a bullet, so it's not like this reaction should surprise her. “It’s okay to ask for it, Spencer.”

Spencer opens her mouth; Nicole leans in and cuts her off with a kiss.

"Turn the car around," she says, when she pulls back. "Take me home."