13 Arc One (12)

"You don't have to do this. I know you've got work to get back to… I can do this by myself." Nicholas didn't know where to look. If he looked straight up then his eyes made contact with Gabe's and he would instantly freeze with the memory of how cruel the other could be. If he let his eyes roam around then it was impossible to ignore their current position on his bedroom floor. Nicholas was lying on his back while Gabe was on one knee beside him, helping him stretch his leg back towards his chest. The position was slightly incongruous save for the fact they were both fully dressed.

"If I don't help you, who will?" Gabe slowly lowered Nicholas' leg and his hands slipped along skin exposed by the loose shorts, riding higher up Nicholas thigh before retreating as if nothing untoward had happened. He tapped the opposite leg and Nicholas struggled to raise it high enough for Gabe to lift it the rest of the way. "Just rely on me, Nicky."

That was the problem; Nicholas had to rely on him. Louisa had returned to work and Gabe refused to hire a nurse, claiming that they couldn't trust anyone from an external company. Aside from his appointments with the physio in charge of his case, Nicholas rarely saw anyone other than Gabe and Louisa. Even his hydrotherapy appointments had been cancelled once he was discharged because the pair had installed rails in their private pool to help him exercise 'at home'.

The hand on his leg tightened, fingers digging into his thigh, and Nicholas sucked a breath through his teeth.

"Where did your mind go, Nicky?" Gabe's brow furrowed as he looked at the man beneath him. Nicholas' face had gone pale with pain and sweat was starting to bead along his forehead from the exertion of his exercise routine.

"Nowhere." He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes for a brief respite. Unfortunately, closing his eyes heightened his other senses and directed his attention to the hand slowly sliding down his leg once more. His skin flinched beneath the wandering palm and he tried to jerk his leg away. Still weak, he was unable to wrest his own limb from Gabe's grip. "Let go."

"You need to finish your exercises." The other man's voice was low with a hint of steel.

"No. What I need? Is for you to let go of my leg."

The fingers gripped harder and Nicholas winced.

"Finish your exercises Nicky."

"Stop fucking calling me Nicky."

Silence filled the room after Nicholas' outburst as the two men froze in surprise. The thump of his heart echoed in Nicholas' ear and his breath caught in his throat. Above him, Gabe's eyes darkened in a way that he hadn't seen in this mission attempt, throwing Nicholas back into the memory of his previous death. His stomach churned and he barely had the strength to roll over before throwing up.

"Nicky!"

When Gabe reached out to hold him steady, Nicholas flinched away from him.

"Go away." Vomiting made his throat sore and his voice came out raspy.

Gabe ignored him.

"I'll get a cloth and help you clean up. Don't move and I'll be right back."

"Go. Away."

Running water briefly sounded in the ensuite before Gabe's feet appeared in Nicholas' vision.

"Here, let's clean you up." His tone was soft, the type used for coddling a child.

Nicholas pushed the cloth away from his face and struggled to sit upright. In the process, his hand landed in the mess, but he was too worked up to care. His heart was racing as scenes of his torture ran past his eyes like a movie on fast forward. He could remember the pain, remember the look in Gabe's eyes, could remember the pain in this body's heart at the betrayal and ultimate loss of love. Why did the system make him go through all of this? What was the point? Wouldn't it have been kinder to just let him drown in the first place?

"Don't. Touch. Me." Ice dripped off his voice and shocked Gabe.

"Nicky…"

"I said, Don't Fucking Call Me Nicky!" Nicholas roared at the stunned mob boss. "Get out! Get out of my room… NOW!"

When Gabe would have argued, Louisa's hand appeared on his shoulder and she shook her head at him, silently telling him to leave their friend alone and give him the space he asked for. When Gabe grudgingly followed her from the room, Nicholas heard her soft reminder "the doctors told us that he could have mood swings and bouts of anger. It's normal, part of healing from the trauma…"

She wasn't wrong… but how could he tell them that it wasn't the trauma of the accident that he needed healing from.

Left alone, Nicholas struggled through the process of cleaning himself up. Dragging himself to and from the ensuite, cleaning his mess, and then finally pulling himself into the shower chair proved more exhausting than his usual exercise routine. With the hot water scalding his back, Nicholas leaned his head against the cool tiles and sank into the chair. As the heat belted his body, he absentmindedly traced the finger marks already bruising on his thigh.

It would be nice, he mused, if he could just stay in the shower forever. It was calm. Soothing. Drowned out the sound of the door opening, feet stepping closer.

When the shower clicked off, he was enveloped in a towel pulled straight from the warmth of the dryer and carefully carried to the bed.

When a single tear escaped his closed eyes, a calloused finger wiped it from his cheek.

The next day, nothing was said about his outburst. Nicholas had no way of explaining and both Gabe and Louisa seemed to put it down to the mood swings the doctors had warned them about.

Nothing changed.

Each day passed in much the same way and Nicholas started to empathise with prisoners in solitary confinement. There was nothing on the television except 1980's repeats, and for some obscure reason, this version of the modern world didn't have a streaming culture. No Netflix, or Stan, or any online streaming sites. It was so random an absence, that Nicholas questioned if it was deliberately designed by the system for some strange, maniacal reason.

When he complained of boredom, Gabe gave him more work. As the months of recuperation passed, Nicholas became more and more familiar with the inner workings of the two Families.

"I wish I had a photographic memory like the protagonists in transmigration novels. Then I could make a copy of everything, just in case." Shame the novels had gotten so much wrong— the poor soul sucked into the system wasn't a genius and the freaking useless system didn't talk and all those handy cheats? Non-existent.

<You have selected Copy. Select from the following:

Copy All Data

Copy Data from Designated Document

Copy All Data Related to Search Parameters>

Nicholas took back every nasty thing he'd ever thought about the system.

<You have selected Copy. Select from the following:

Copy All Data

Copy Data from Designated Document

Copy All Data Related to Search Parameters>

Lead marbles rolled around his stomach. Was he really doing this? Images of his last mission attempt, and the torture he'd undergone just for the suspicion of betrayal, left a sour taste in his mouth.

Nicholas stared at the flashing cursor. He didn't want to copy too much and risk not being able to find what he was looking for, but he also didn't want to copy too little. After all, if he was going to risk being caught with this knowledge, he needed to make sure it was worth it.

To be continued

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