Chapter Text
Nile had officially been a part of the Guard for a month when she realised nobody spoke about Booker anymore, not even Copley when he phoned. She didn’t dare mention him to the three people she lived with, so she was resigned to having to call up Copley himself.
Nile didn’t hate the man, in fact she was sure she harboured less bad feelings for him, and thought less bad thoughts about him, than any other person who was- or had been- immortal. This of course excluded the immortal who currently resided in the bottom of the ocean somewhere. This was probably due to the fact she was the only one who had witnessed his speech about his wife and her illness. But, he had still aided in the kidnapping and torture of her new family. Nile didn’t despise the fact she had to call him, it just wasn't one of her favourite things to do- the man could be extremely tight lipped when he wanted to be.
So, a mere two hours after thinking about it Nile was calling up James Copley to ask after a- presumably- depressed, Frenchman.
“This is Copley.” He answered in a short tone.
“Hey Copley, it’s Nile,” taking a breath to steady herself she carried on, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Booker?”
“Uhm,” he sounded unsure of how to answer, “yes. Why?”
“I just wanted to check in with him myself. Can I have his number?”
Copley hesitated.
“Copley, I’m not going to threaten him or anything. I just want to make sure he’s ok, alright?”
“Yeah, um, ok. It’s +33-735-553-507”
“Thank you. I owe you one.” And with that Nile hung up.
Now she had Booker’s number, all Nile had to do was actually message him. This, however, was proving much more difficult than she thought it would have been. The difficulty seemed to lay in finding the balance between sounding patronising, and sounding sarcastic. In the end Nile ended up going for a seemingly standard message of:
“Hey Booker, it’s Nile. I got your number from Copley and if you don’t want to reply that’s fine. Just wanted to make sure you’re ok :)”
After realising that Booker’s area code showed it was a Paris number, the lateness in Italy, and the lack of time difference, Nile decided not to wait up for a reply from Booker and retired to bed.
*****
She woke up in the morning as normal, rolled out of bed, walked to the kitchen, made coffee, ignored the scoff of disgust that came from Nicky as she poured sugar and milk in, drank her coffee, and then went to go get ready for training- checking her phone didn’t even cross her mind. And it wouldn’t until she was sitting in the living room of their safe house later that night. She turned over her phone to see a message from a Paris number.
An emoji, just the eyes and a straight line for a mouth.
So he wasn’t doing too well, but it wasn’t the skull at least. Nile shrugged and put her phone down while turning on the TV, Booker didn’t want to talk, he would have replied with words if he did.
And for the next few weeks this was how it continued. Nile would ask how he was and he would reply with an emoji, once or twice it was the same gif of a man who was obviously stressed out but giving a thumbs up. The days she was busier she would merely send a question mark, the days she had more time on her hands there would be the obligatory enquiry after his health but then also the most random thoughts that came to her during the day. Ranging from the idea that Nicky would love Taylor swift to her missing Lemon Sorbet.
One day, however, she messaged him saying how ‘Nicky was making pizza and it's good but it will never beat Chicago pizza’ and Booker replied. He actually replied, with words and not emojis.
Tell him you think it needs more salt.
i feel like theres a story there
Just something I used to say whenever he would cook. It always annoyed him, but everyone else found it funny.
oh
they dont really talk about you
i wish i knew more
I’m the only one who ever really understood technology.
Andy watches tv but refuses a phone and Nicky is the biggest technophobe ever.
christ dont i know it
whenever he sees me on my phone he rolls his eyes and threatens to take it away from me
You should get him an Alexa for Christmas.
Nile replied with the laughing emoji and that conversation ended, but at least once a week there would be a string of texts that most people from an outer perspective may take as a friendship. Nile wasn’t sure whether she would call it that, more of an acquaintance making sure he hadn’t drunk himself to death too often. She doubted he would call it that either.
A few days later, Alexa came up again.
i asked copley about the Alexa, he said something about it being too traceable for a group of ‘immortal assassins’ to whatever
You’d have thought he’d be on the youngsters' side.
‘the youngsters’
we sound like a shitty 90s band
You should ask Joe about his 90s ‘style.’
And yes, the youngsters, me and you- and I guess Copley counts.
i know ur like 200 but you type like a grandad and it scares me
srry ill talk lyk this now
nvm i take it back :(
😂
****
how often does joe get drunk and recite poetry about nickys arse
Too often. Far too often.
oh dear
i dont think i can put up with this more than once
Please don’t try and stop it the way that I did. LOL
book
i know that was just a joke but have you thought about therapy
I’m already going.
good <3
*****
Nile hadn’t thought anything much would come out of their messages, maybe a smile once a week when she knew he was alive. But now it had been five moths of them messaging, six months since the exile and her joining the team, and she was smiling everyday, checking her phone. Whenever she needed a new burner the first thing she would do would be to text him.
got a new phone
Okay 👍
Booker’s use of ‘old man emojis’ dubbed so by her made her laugh, even though she would always jokingly tell him off for it. However, even after all these months she hadn’t told the rest of the team. Booker knew she hadn’t told them, knew that whenever he told her to say something to annoy Nicky, suggested she turn off the game just as it was about to end to grate on Joe’s nerves, whenever he gave her insight into how Andy would fight- in hopes that just once she might win- she never would. Would never give them any sign that he was still in their lives. Nile was insistent that she was only doing it because whenever something even slightly related to Booker came up they all looked so sad, she was trying to keep them happy- keep them smiling. It had nothing to do with the fact that she would like to keep this side of him to herself for a bit. The side of him that was healing, that wasn’t relying on alcohol every time he felt anything more than numb. She could lie and say she was trying to help but truly she knew she just wanted to be a little selfish for once.
Along with not telling the others about the budding friendship growing underneath their noses, Nile was always the one to start the conversation. It was never Booker. For whatever reason she wasn’t going to press- she could guess he still felt a little inadequate, not quite good enough for the team. For her.
So that’s why instant alarm bells rang when her phone buzzed in her pocket at 12 in the afternoon, she hadn’t been up long enough to start a conversation after her weekend long mission.
Nile.
Quynh’s here.
In Paris.