2007-03-24: It's Not Over


Niki_icon.gif DL_icon.gif

Summary: Immediately after leaving the Petrellis, Niki and D.L. want answers — and hopefully that doesn't mean they're about to head into a suicide mission.

Date It Happened: March 24, 2007

It's Not Over

Monica's House, New York

It's never a good sign when Niki goes somewhere and doesn't come back when she's supposed to. And the longer she's gone? The worse it gets.

It's been a bad day, and even though she doesn't remember a lengthy gap of it, it seems like it can't get any longer. Finally, late at night, she opens the front door of Monica's house and slips inside. Donned in a sharp pantsuit, and little else, she's seen better days - her hair hangs limp and strangled, her skin has a faintly raw, pink tinge in spots, there are bandages here and there on her throat, forehead, hands. She's holding a briefcase, holding it slightly behind her. The second she's inside, Niki leans against the door. Home. Such as it is.

"Where were you?" Apparently, D.L.'s not in the mood for anything more than, well, an interrogation. Which, for the record, is what's going to happen. He can't have his wife traversing the streets of New York and coming home with some sort of briefcase without his knowledge. New York is dangerous. And probably even worst than Vegas, in some way. He's sitting in a chair, not really talking loud or even needing to. He doesn't turn on any lights, since he's pretty sure the lights from outside will suffice in making him look like Scary Worried Husband Guy.

Niki looks like she's about ready to collapse, if it weren't for that desperate determination in her eyes. When she sees D.L., she all but launches off of the door toward him - there's a dire air about her. He has good reason to ask where she was. "You were right, D," she says, her voice cracking and wavering, "Whatever the Company's doing to me, it's not working. It's all— " She shakes her head, just looking up to the ceiling and getting herself under control for a second, fighting off a violent shiver at the same time. She tosses the briefcase on a chair without looking at it. There's a smear of blood on it. "I'm through. I'm through with them! I— I don't know what to do."

"Can't say I don't wanna' say I told you so." D.L.'s up and on his feet, moving with the quickness to get himself over to where Niki is. He's moving to touch the briefcase with one hand and her with the other. She doesn't look too hot and that's what's worrying him. He's entered frown city at the moment and shakes his head. "What happened?" Which could roughly translate to something akin to do we have to move again? or, the all time Sanders/Hawkins favorite… is Micah safe?

She's too distraught, too focused those questions herself to give a full-blown rundown of her day - the thought doesn't even really cross her mind. Niki brings a hand to her forehead, dragging it across, holding it there as if battling a headache. Her fingers look like they've been out in the cold for a long time, somewhere colder than late spring in NYC. "Jessica— she killed someone. But I don't think she planned to - I think something went wrong," she explains. "The cops were crawling all over that place, D.L., they're gonna know I was there." She turns to flip the briefcase open. It's full of cash. Several thousand dollars and Niki has no idea what it's for, that much is obvious.

Money. Good. That's what he thought, but D.L.'s moving around Niki and sliding his arms around her. Definitely time for that husbandy protective hug of blackness that he always does when she's freaking out about, well, stuff that happens to her when she's Jessica. Since, well, this happens a lot. "We're movin' again." is all he can say, since he can't really see what's going on ahead of him. His mind is cluttered with the little bit of information he has at the moment. "But not before we bust this Company down from the inside." He squeezes into her a little tighter. "I love you, Niki."

This is what she needed. D.L.'s support. The comfort, however fleeting; it was solid. Niki needs solid. For several moments, she's still and quiet, her arms wrapping around D.L. and cold hands clutching lightly at his back - lightly only because they're sore. But once she's had time to process what he said, she pushes away to look up at him determinedly. "/No/," she forces through clenched teeth. "I don't want to run." But if they have to… no, she stays on track. "But you're right," she says it again, "We have to go there, we have to confront them."

"Then we stay. We stay and we fight. Or… whatever it is we gotta' do to get them off our backs." D.L.'s primed and ready to do this. He's been wanting to do this ever since Niki left the first time and dragged the family, unknowingly, to New York after her. "We'll take care of them the way we took care of Linderman. Together." And with his fist into the brain of whomever's behind all this crazy Company nonsense. "You know where they are. I can get us in. When do you want to move on 'em?"

"I just want answers." Niki's response is more subdued than D.L.'s, but no less full of conviction. She looks away, out of the darkened living room, fighting back the tears that have been building up pretty much since she woke up /falling through the sky/ some hours ago. 'You know you're having a bad day when…'. The battle fails and emotion wins out. "I'm supposed to go there in a couple days. For treatment. Whatever that means," she says, sinking onto the arm of the chair D.L. recently abandoned. "We don't have to sneak in. They let me in through the front door."

Aw, that takes half the fun out of it. But, well, he's pretty sure there will be hell to pay after he goes with her, inside, so that he can get some answers too. After all, she's something of a marvelous woman and she'll be pretty dangerous if, "You want answers? Or does Jessica?" D.L. figures he needs to ask that question, in light of recent events and the fact that they are, in a way or two, going to waltz into the Company with an unexpressed plot to kill /somebody/.
"/I/ want answers. I want to know what's happening to me, D.L.!" Niki says, her voice raising, until she rememers to keep it low. "I think she knows more than we do right now." She can't stay still for long, it seems, as the woman is suddenly on her feet again and pacing with a frenetic energy that supersedes how exhausted she is. "All I know is, I think she was with someone from the company today." She holds up her hands, turning them over this way and that slowly and looking at them. "It's… /frostbite/. Mild," she says as if repeating someone who explained that very thing to her. "That man who came to our door? He did this to me before."

Glaring with all the intensity of a husband that wants to kill the man that hurt his wife, D.L.'s pretty much ready to go at this moment. "We're not waitin' then. We'll go. You get your answers. I'll handle the rest." And he's already moving to the closet to get his jacket out. He shoves himself into it and even goes for his stupid military hat. "Nobody's ever gonna' hurt you again. Including Jessica." Yeah, he figures if he can bust down this company, he can get his hands on whatever the cure is and kill the dude that hurt Niki and… yeah. Illogical thinking!

Niki's train of thought isn't so illogical, and she watches D.L. rush to war before she can stop him. "…D…" she says tentatively, but after a span of watching him for a few moments, frozen in spot, she kicks into action, too. She swipes the briefcase from the chair. "I'm going to go take care of this first." Because a suspicious briefcase of money is not something you leave laying around in the living room, she heads off toward their bedroom with it to stash it in the closet.

D.L.'s moving around with the quickliness. Because he's getting ready to go kill a guy. Or girl. Or both. Or everybody that's in the damn Company building. He's too busy with the scrawling of a note for Monica and Micah. So that they won't worry. It's hastily written and doesn't say where they went, but at least it says enough to keep the other family members calm. Finished, he yanks up his car keys and heads towards the bedroom door.

Even with his haste, by the time D.L. reaches the bedroom door, Niki is on her way out - with a change of clothes, no less (a half change, at least, in that she has a real shirt on) and is empty-handed. "I'm going to check on Micah." Slipping past her husband, she does just that, quietly easing open the door to the other room. She watches the young boy sleeping, a softer, conflicted expression on her face. What if this all goes wrong? "I hope we're doing the right thing," she murmurs. After a few moments, she turns away and looks to D.L. Hopeful. Scared. But no less determined. Wordlessly, she grabs her own jacket from the closet and throws open the front door.

Here goes nothing.

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