Chapter 4
When Booker woke, he felt warm, calm, safe. Something he had not felt for a long time. He allowed himself to bask in those feelings for a few short moments before being assaulted by memories of the previous night. Joe, Nicky, Andy, Nile, Quynh and even Copley were there. And he had cried. Sobbed actually. Wailed to be even more specific.
This was one of the many aspects of himself that he had hidden from them. The fact that he was weak. The fact that he couldn't take abandonment. That he feared it. And now they knew.
He felt two arms upon him. One on his chest, the other on his stomach. A third hand was clasped in his much larger one.
He tensed when his legs he felt another two bodies there.
He never wanted to leave the protective embraces of his family. Weak. His mind taunted him for that feeling. Coward. Unworthy.
He gulped. He stayed still. He knew that when they left, it would be even more difficult for him. Booker found solace in the fact that at least he would not see them in his dreams anymore.
He could not believe that he had broken down so completely in front of Andy. He cursed himself that the last memory that she would have of him would be of how fragile he was.
Tensing, even more, he realised that the first impression that Quynh would have of him would be his vulnerability.
Considering that she would eventually take on the role of leader of their little band, he could not see her ever trusting him to hold his own on missions.
There went his last hope of being allowed to work with his family.
He cursed himself again. He tried to escape unnoticed from the now stifling embrace of Andy and Nile but the attempt was futile.
"Booker stay...sleep. We'll speak later. Stay... Please."
The tone of Andy's voice was such that he could not refuse even if he had wanted to. And he didn't want to.
He laid on his back and fell into a fitful sleep.
When he woke again, he felt no one around him. He was alone.
He jumped up from his bed and looked around the room frantically. "No, no, no. s'il te plaît Dieu. ne laissez pas cela être un rêve. Please. Please. Please."
(Please God. Please don't let that be a dream.)
He walked into the living room and to his immense relief. They were there. They were speaking. He did not comprehend what they were murmuring about, flooded by the respite that filled his veins.
Nicky saw him first and approached him cautiously. "Libretto. How are you feeling?"
"You're here. You're really here." Booker mumbled in wonder.
"Yes, yes we are my brother. We are here. And we won't leave you again. I promise."
"You're here."
Nicky nodded and told him that breakfast was ready and that he freshen up before they eat.
Booker was not hungry but nodded along anyway. He went into his bathroom, stripped off and let the hot water hit his body.
He pondered what Nicky had said. They weren't going to leave? Why not? His punishment was his exile. To be alone for a century. Why would they care how he spent it? He would convince them to leave. He did not want them to resent him and the only way that would happen was if they had time to heal. Time away from him.
He scrubbed the filth from his body and when he felt relatively cleaner, he dried off and fumbled through his drawers for some clothes.
Looking somewhat presentable, he made his way to the kitchen. A heavenly aroma had filled the kitchen. Cornetti and hot chocolate. Heaven on earth. Actually, home.
He waited awkwardly at the opening to the kitchenette, not knowing his place.
"Booker." Andy motioned for him to grab a plate and food. There wasn't nearly enough space for them to sit at the table, so the ate standing. Placing their mugs on the counter.
Andy, Quynh spoke quietly in an ancient Vietnamese language, incomprehensible to anyone less than three millennia old. Booker got the distinct impression that they were talking about him.
Joe and Nicky were pressed together, feeding each other bites of Cornetti. Nile was looking at them with a fondness in her eyes.
"We need to talk. All of us." Andy looked at each one of them in the eye. "We will hear each other out and we will be calm."
They all nodded and moved into the dingy hall. Booker sat on the floor much further away from the rest of them.
Nicky and Joe sat directly opposite him. Nile to their right and the wives to their left. They all respected his wish to keep distance between them, even if they did not agree with it.
"Book, can you tell us what exactly happened. Why we found you like that."
He looked down, not wanting to bare his soul. Not knowing how they'd react. They didn't love him. They had made that clear in the two hundred years that they had kept waltzing in and out of his life, expecting to pick up right where they had left off, not once asking how he felt about it. They had made it clear again when they had banished him for a century.
"I don't want to talk about it, Andy."
"I realised that she phrased it as a question, but she isn't asking," Nicky told him sternly. "This cannot happen again and the only way to ensure that is by knowing what triggered this."
"And how do you propose to stop it? We will talk, then you will leave and I will be left alone again. So can we skip to the leaving?"
His statement left the five of them in stunned silence.
Joe detangled himself from Nicky's arms and kneeled in front of Booker, grasping the younger man's hand in his. "We won't leave. You won't be alone. I promise. Please talk to us, we just want to help.
Booker's eyes teared up as he tried to wrench his hand out of Joe's. His heart wanted to believe the words that were spoken, his mind wanted to scoff at them. “Don't hide your emotions, Bastien.” Joe released Booker’s hands and sat beside him.
“It’s hard…seeing you in my dreams is so hard. I wanted, needed to be there with you and it’s my own doing that I couldn’t. Can’t. I didn’t want to drink. I wanted to do what you told me to do, Boss. Wanted to heal but the dreams made it so hard.” He gulped before continuing. “When I’m in that state I don’t dream…or feel.”
“What if you died?” Nile whispered, her voice breaking.”
“Then I’d get what I want.”
“Why are you so intent on dying Book?”
“I have nothing to live for. All those that ever loved me are dead.”
The was the smallest pause before the rest of them started speaking over each other trying to somehow tell him that he was loved.
Joe tried to pull him into his arms, but Booker pushed him off roughly, not wanting to feel an embrace that he would never feel again.
Booker took a deep breath and cut them off. “You don’t care about me. So don’t say that you do. I’d rather you tell me the hard, brutal truth, not it entwined in flowery words that I have to decipher the true meaning of.”
“Why would you say that?” Andy croaked, her voice hoarse with regret and pain. Tears were streaming down her face. Nicky looked shocked beyond measure. Joe’s hand tried to tighten around his back, but Booker shrugged out of it. “You're our brother. Of course, we love you.”
“Sure,” Booker said. Too tired to fight anymore. To let them in any more than he already had. He wanted to believe what Andy was saying. Desperately so, but he knew that he would only hurt more when they inevitably left.
“Don’t say things to placate us.”
He laughed bitterly. “You want me to say what I feel. Okay. You love me? I’m your brother? We’re a family? What kind of family would leave their brother alone, grieving, for years on end? What kind of—”
“Say it, Booker, we won’t be angry.” Joe murmured.
“Why didn’t you let me explain? Before you left me?”
“We didn’t think that there was anything for us to know. We were wrong. I know that you telling us now will not change any of the past months, but please tell us.” Nicky beseeched, regret darkening his pale eyes.
“It was never supposed to be any of you. Just me. Copley knew that all of us were immortal, so he approached me. I was going to kill him. Tie it off, but he told me how his wife died and that reminded me of how Amelie died. I told him to go ahead with it. Just one modification; they would only take me.
“I asked him to arrange the mission for us so that I’d get to see you all one last time. It was supposed to be a real mission, but Merrick wanted proof and us all. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry that we punished you instead of talking to you and finding the root of the problem. We assumed the worst of you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Joe grasped his hands and tried to maintain eye contact with Booker.
He waved off Joe’s apologies, not believing that he deserved to apologised to. “Please go and let me live my ninety-nine years in peace.”
“We’re not leaving you, Booker. Get that through your head.”