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Joe and Nicky were wonderful, but they were also a bit much. Not, actually, in the way Nile had expected. When Nile had realized that for the next hundred years her main companions were going to be two men who had loved each other for a millenia, she had expected a sickening amount of coupley bliss to come pouring off of them.
Nile hadn't walked in on them making out, or been forced to listen to an essay about the perfection of their love, or endure a dinner while they babbled at each other in adoring babytalk—nothing. The problem was a tendency to go the other way. They wanted to make so sure she was included that she felt at home that they were there for her that it got more than a little overwhelming. But still, Nile preferred that to being alone in this new world. All the invitations to meals and sparring practice offerings and little gifts from centuries past were really nice, actually. If a bit much.
No, the problem was Andy. Or rather, the problem was Joe and Nicky and the way they looked at Andy. Nile could see the moments they'd remember Andy was mortal now. A stricken expression would cross their faces, a physical manifestation of the yawning despair that they'd soon, by their standards, be without the one constant of their immortal lives.
They tried not to let Andy see, but she did. They tried not to smother her in response, but they did.
Andy rubbed her temples and stared at the plate of snacks that had appeared on the side-table next to the couch. It was a full charcuterie board, all carefully cut up into bite-sized pieces.
"It's a sweet gesture, but what are you, an invalid?" Nile said, speaking the words she was pretty sure Andy was thinking. The exasperated look Andy shot her let Nile know she was pretty much right on the money. Nile walked over to the side table, and stole a grape and some cheese, popping it in her mouth. "Where did they get this cheese?" Nile asked, grabbing some more.
It seemed to snap Andy out of the worst of her funk, and she took some of the cheese herself. "French," Andy declared after tasting it, chewing slowly, "Coastal. There's this little dairy farm in Brittany, what's its name…Joe!" she called.
"Yes?" Joe appeared in the door so quickly Nile wondered if he had been eavesdropping.
"This from the dairy farm with the stone buildings and the yellow flowers and the bee?"
Joe nodded. "That's the one," he said. He turned to Nile. "Never bet against Andy when it comes to a taste test. Her tongue's been honed by history."
And then it happened, Nile could see the moment Joe remembered Andy would soon be history herself, and his face shuttered. "Glad you like the cheese," he said awkwardly, and left. Andy sighed.
"You wanna get out of here?" Nile asked.
Andy reached down and picked up one of the delicately sliced meats, and wrapped it around a different cheese. "I don't need to go for a walk," she said, snappishly, "I need for them to stop treating me like I've got one foot in the grave."
"I know," Nile said, stealing a slice of prosciutto and a raspberry for herself. "I don't mean a walk, I mean like—you want to show me the dairy farm?"
Andy looked up at Nile. "We're in London. It's in France."
"I know," Nile repeated in a slow, intentional drawl. "Like I said, wanna get out of here?"
"Yes," Andy said, her face starting to light up. Then, after a moment, it fell. "Joe and Nicky…"
"There are phones," Nile said exasperated. "We can video chat. You need to get the fuck out of here, and they need time to grieve without worrying about offending you. Also, they've had nine hundred years with you. I think I deserve some of my own Andy time."
"I'm not a commodity to be fought over," Andy grumped, but Nile knew it was just lingering irritation. She was starting to smile. "Alright. Let's break in those new passports Copley set us up with."
It was Nile that shared their plans with Joe and Nicky.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Joe said slowly, as Nicky looked on with a deep furrow in his brow.
"You're smothering her," Nile said gently. "And I think you know it."
"I've been afraid she's going to vanish one night by herself," Nicky said quietly. He reached over and took Joe's hand, squeezing it. "This is better. Besides, you have a way with her," Nicky said, looking back at Nile.
"Elaborate," Nile demanded.
"She likes you," Nicky said. "She…comes alive around you. I think it would be good for the two of you to spend some time together."
Joe sighed. "I hate to admit it, but you're both right."
"And," Nile said, offering one of the consolation prizes she had thought of in preparation for this conversation, "it might do you two good to have some time alone. Not that I don't appreciate you both keeping the schmoop on the downlow."
"Schmoop?" Nicky asked.
Joe picked up Nicky's hand and slowly ran his lips along Nicky's wrist. Nicky shivered.
"Yeah, shmoop," Nile said. "Though that's less schmoop and more a full-on seduction. We've lived together for two months now, I really would have bet I would have walked in on you two going at it at some point."
"We're capable of being on good behavior for a couple decades at least," Joe said with a little grin, putting Nicky's hand down again. "I make no promises after that."
"Something to look forward to," Nile said dryly.
"Call us, often," Nicky demanded, bringing the conversation back around.
"We will. You'll be sick of hearing from us," Nile promised.
"Where are you going to go?" Joe asked.
"We're going to start with the farm you got the cheese from. After that…" Nile shrugged. "Who knows?"
"I have some ideas," Joe said, looking at Nicky, who nodded thoughtfully. "We'll discuss it with Andy. She may want to keep it a surprise."
"Where did you get that?" Nile asked, hoping she didn't sound too breathlessly impressed.
"It's been hanging around in a garage," Andy said, waving a dismissive hand over an absolutely gorgeous vintage Porsche sitting outside the London house.
"Of course," Nile said faintly.
"Thought it'd be fun to drive," Andy said, shrugging a shoulder.
"Oh, absolutely," Nile said, giving up on playing it cool and jogging over. She ran a hand over the cool slope of its hood. "It's gorgeous. We're trading off."
"My car, I drive," Andy said firmly.
"Your car, you drive first," Nile rebutted. "And passenger picks the music."
"This thing doesn't have bluetooth," Andy pointed out.
"Or a charging port. It's fine, I'll get a portable battery and a speaker. Worth it."
Andy drove for three hours, taking them out of London, and onto Le Shuttle across the channel. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and they ate up miles through the French countryside with the top down. Nile curated a playlist of alternative R&B, chill beats and soaring vocals offsetting their drive. They didn't say much, but Andy relaxed, starting to smile as the wind whipped through her short hair.
Nile watched Andy. The midmorning light hit her profile, limning the soft curve of her nose, the sharp point of her chin, the devastating topography of her cheekbones. Andy's fluttering hair caught the rays, giving her a halo of gold. Andy's eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, her eyes were on the road and her elbow was over the driver's side door.
Nile felt a familiar twist in her stomach, a little flutter of desire in the back of her throat. Andy was gorgeous. She was also a very, very bad idea. Even aside from being newly mortal and still getting over her suicide wish, Andy was whiter than Nile went for, bossier than Nile went for, and older than—
Well, the age thing was a bit of a question mark, wasn't it? Because, sure, Andy looked, what, forties? And that was older than Nile usually wanted. But Andy wasn't just too old for her, Andy was too old for every single human on the face of the planet (with one painful exception, and Nile pushed the screaming dreams aside for later consideration). She wasn't just older, she was an ancient wonder, and that…made a difference, somehow.
Andy looked over, and saw Nile watching her. She gave a little smile. "Hungry?"
Nile swallowed hard, and looked back out the front windshield. "I could eat."
Andy was still a bad idea. If it went wrong, it went really wrong. Nile needed a friend and someone to talk about immortality with. Andy needed someone who wasn't going to treat her like glass but also wouldn't let her kill herself. That was complicated enough on its own. No need to bring anything else into it.
After lunch, Nile slid into the driver's seat and offered Andy a shit eating smile. Andy glowered, but she did take the passenger seat. Nile took them out of the parking lot, and whooped as the engine purred to life as she pressed down on the acceleration.
"Where's your phone?" Andy asked. "My turn to pick the music."
Nile pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it one-handed. She had demanded a new phone after it had all shaken out, and Copley had promised to make sure this one wasn't easy to trace. They still might need to destroy it to keep themselves safe, but it was less likely. She handed it over to Andy.
The noise that came out of the portable speaker was…bad.
"What?" Nile half-yelled, because apparently Andy had gotten used to her eardrums repairing if they got blown out. "What is that?"
"Industrial post-punk!" Andy called back, with a sharp grin on her face."I like its energy."
"Its energy is a nightclub for deaf serial killers! Turn it off!"
"Passenger picks the music," Andy said with a shit-eating grin. "Let me drive and you can have your soft-voiced men back."
Nile grit her teeth and pushed down on the accelerator. Andy laughed, a bright joyful sound, and out of the corner of her eye, Nile watched her throw her head back as the car sprang forward.
Nile laughed too, she couldn't help it. It was a beautiful day, and Andy was a clever asshole.
Nile had always liked clever assholes more than she should.
Over the next hour, Nile managed to gain an appreciation for industrial post-punk. She still didn't like it, but something in the cacophony was feral and free, and Nile could see how it suited Andy. After an hour, Andy either got bored or had mercy, and flipped the station off.
Nile breathed a sigh of relief just before a strong four to the floor kick drum sounded, and bratty europop electronica came thudding out of the speaker.
"This is... different," Nile said carefully.
"I contain multitudes," Andy said.
"You know what, it's cool, I can roll with this," Nile decided, and started bobbing her head along to the beat. The lyrics sounded Scandinavian, and Nile had no idea what they said, but after a minute, she realized Andy was singing along.
It was another three hours before they decided to stop for the night. Andy found them a hotel and took care of the payment while Nile parked the car and grabbed their luggage out of the trunk.
Andy had gotten them one suite, a bedroom and a living room, with a nice balcony overlooking a plaza. "Do you mind?" Andy asked, with the slightly embarrassed air of someone who has realized it's really too late to be asking. "We always tend to share space."
Nile nodded. "Yeah, that works. I'll take the couch bed. Your non-immortal back will thank me in the morning."
They ordered room service and had dinner out on the balcony. Nile swirled the wine in her cup and asked thoughtfully, "What's the money situation? I realized I never asked."
"Joe handles it, these days. He was a merchant, and he's had almost a thousand years to get good at moving money around. So we're set, we just can't draw too much attention."
"I can definitely be down for the life of modest luxury," Nile decided, and drank her wine. "It's not an issue that I haven't been...paying in?"
Andy laughed, and shook her head. "You kidding me? They're so excited to spend money on you. It's part of what we have the money for, you know? Just be careful what you wish for too loudly around them."
"So no crying that I never got a pony for Christmas. Got it."
"Exactly. You don't want a pony. They're good working animals, but no good for riding. You want a horse."
"I would have no idea what to do with a horse," Nile laughed. "I've never even seen one…Andy, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Don't worry," Andy said, a manic light in her eyes as she smiled just a little too wide. "I'll make sure you get a good horse."
"Andy. I don't want a horse," Nile said, alarmed.
"Yet," Andy said. She leaned in close and lowered her voice. Nile leaned forward too, out of instinct. "Five thousand years ago, in the vast steppes of what people now call Kazakhstan, humans tamed the wild horse. I was there, Nile, I have ridden horses as long as there have been horses to ride. I have been the wind, the thunder, and the lightning strike. I will teach you how to ride, and then you will want a horse."
Nile blinked at the sudden poetry that had come pouring out of Andy. "O...Kay." After a moment, she added, "Wait, you're older than the domestication of the horse?"
"Yes. More than the domestication of a lot of things. Not dogs, though," Andy's smile was soft and lopsided. "Wolves have wanted our fires long before I existed. I find that reassuring."
"You must have gotten so bored," Nile blurted out, an uneasy twinge in her belly as she thought about the long, long life ahead of her.
"No," Andy said firmly. She reached out and grabbed Nile's hand, squeezing, "Humans are endlessly terrible and wonderful. I have awed, I have despaired. But I have never been bored."
"Thank you," Nile said, gripping Andy's hand and squeezing back. "It's just so…big. Everything, I—" Nile felt her breath hitch, and all the things she hadn't really let herself think about were starting to press in on her.
"Hey," Andy said softly, and Nile looked up to find Andy had scooted her chair over next to hers. "This is overwhelming, and you've been taking it really well. It's okay if you need to not be okay for a bit." Andy reached out an arm and put it around Nile's shoulder.
Nile shivered, and resisted leaning in closer to Andy. "I don't—I'm not the sort of person to break down. I work hard, I get through it."
"And you did," Andy said. "You were magnificent, you saved us all. You've been so, so strong. But life isn't a sprint. Not for you, not anymore. You need to take your rest breaks." Andy's hand squeezed Nile's shoulder. "I've got you. We're as safe as we're going to be. Take the time you need."
Nile sniffed once, and felt the press of grief and exhaustion and the sheer overwhelming strangeness of what had happened to her. She had fought, she had saved the team, she had kept Andy alive, she had made sure they stayed together, she had been managing Andy and Joe and Nicky and trying to keep them from imploding and she was so tired.
Andy's hand pressed against her temple and pulled her down onto Andy's shoulder, and Nile gave up and started sobbing. Her exhausted cries were great, body-shaking things, crying like she hadn't since she was nine years old and just learning how unfair the world was. She'd had to be strong, her mother had told her, because the world isn't kind to weak black women. "Don't let them see you cry, baby," she'd said.
Nile could go back to being the strong one in the morning. For now, she leaned into Andy's strength, and broke down.
Nile woke up the next morning on the big bed, still wrapped up in Andy's arms. Her head pounded, her eyes were swollen and sore, and her mouth tasted like death. Still, she felt…purged. Free. Nile gave a deep sigh of relief.
Next to her, Andy stirred. Nile tensed, bracing for…pity, maybe. Judgment. Some sign that Andy thought less of her now that she had seen Nile hurting. But Andy just blinked awake and offered Nile a small smile. "Need water?"
"Fuck yes," Nile croaked.
Andy nodded, and got out of bed. She took a step, stopped, and rubbed her back, her eyes furrowed in irritation as she did so. Muscle pains. Nile was right about mortal bodies and couches.
Not that she was feeling great right now, either. "I would have thought the healing would take care of this," she grumped as she shuffled into the kitchen after Andy.
"It will, eventually. The immortality struggles with dehydration, I've noticed. It'll heal after you lose a lot of blood, but you'll have a wicked headache until you drink some electrolytes or eat something."
"Weird," Nile decided, taking the glass Andy offered with relief. "I would think it'd be better at stuff like that."
Andy shrugged. "I think creating is harder for it than rearranging. Bullets hurt like a motherfucker, but we heal quickly. Most of the time. Back when we got legs cut off—" Andy shook her head. "It reattaches limbs faster than growing new ones. If something gets cut off, try to just hold it to the stump for a second and see if it takes."
"I'll...keep that in mind," Nile said faintly.
"You will regrow your leg though, it'll just take awhile," Andy added.
"Now you're just trying to gross me out," Nile decided. She refilled the water glass and started drinking again. She did feel better.
"Practical advice for the rest of your life," Andy said with a little smile. "Your turn, how the fuck do you deal with a hangover?"
"I…huh, yeah, guess it's been awhile for you, hasn't it. It just sort of sucks…but hydration, painkillers, get a little food in you if you can without throwing it up."
Andy nodded gravely. "I'll keep that in mind. So, do you want to drive or DJ?"
"DJ," Nile decided, though she was pleased Andy was warming up to the idea of her driving. "I'm a little worried that whatever music you put on will not be good for my tender skull."
It was another four hour drive to the dairy farm, and Nile let Andy do the whole stretch. She played Andy an assortment of classic jazz—Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, and Dizzy Gillespie. Andy mentioned offhand she had seen some of them live, and Nile pestered her for story after story of the classic jazz scene.
"There was one club—little red candles on the table, and red curtains all around. It smelled like cigarettes, everything did, back then. But the sound was so clear, when you stepped inside, it was like you were somewhere else. There was a lot of pain after World War One," Andy said. "It was always a gift when a singer could make people forget, even for just a little while."
That story led to others, what it was like to fight in the World Wars, what it was like watching present become past become history. Nile noticed that Andy always described the little moments—the joy of getting a clean pair of socks, the well-worn card deck that kept them company in the trench, a dinner of roast pig after months of lean rations. Nile supposed that was the way memory worked, even over a lifetime as grand as Andy's.
Eventually, they pulled up at the dairy farm. It was a charming little place, rolling green fields dotted with stone buildings. The shaggy cows were clearly used to visitors, and there were a lot of families visiting. Nile and Andy strolled along, got some fresh cheese and bread from the farm store, and walked down to the little fishing village next to it.
"So, in the summer, those hills are covered in yellow flowers," Andy explained, as they munched. "And when we were here, Nicky was wearing a yellow shirt. There was this bee that was certain that Nicky was a flower. It kept circling, making annoyed little buzzing sounds. And Nicky was worried that it would sting him."
"Because we need to be worried about bee stings?" Nile asked, incredulously.
"No," Andy said, gazing at the hills with a fond smile. "Because he didn't want the bee to die. So Nicky kept walking away, and the bee kept following him. We wound up walking three miles before we got rid of the bee. It finally flew off to an actual flower, and we celebrated over drinks."
"How long ago was that?" Nile asked, chuckling at the image of Nicky being menaced by a bee.
Andy thought for a second. "Five hundred years or so. It was still Brittany, then."
Nile shook her head. "Geography must be a pain in the ass subject for you."
"Accurate maps are still a novelty," Andy admitted. "Don't even get me started on GPS. So much has changed." Andy looked down at the bread in her hand, and the cheese. "And some things haven't. Our lunch was pretty similar, on that day."
Nile nodded. "I can't even imagine the next five hundred years."
"No," Andy said. "But I have faith you'll figure them out. I think—I think the guys are probably going to need you. But you'll need them too. It's mutual."
"I won't leave them alone," Nile promised.
"We're not meant to be alone," Andy said, like a quote. She reached over and slung an arm over Nile's shoulder, and they stood, staring at the hills.
Andy was huggy. Nile never would have expected it. But all the team was, really. She had caught the end of Joe railing against the stupid fear people had of touch, these days. "They think it all will turn to sex. Stupid. Who came up with that idea?"
"The church, I think," Nicky had said, wryly.
"Yours," Joe said quickly. "Not mine."
Nile probably had eons in front of her. Did she really want to spend them touch-starved? No. So even if it wasn't her normal (her normal being Chicago's South Side respectability politics and the military's toxic striving), she should probably get used to it. She put her arm around Andy's waist in return.
Besides, maybe getting used to casual affection would fix the annoying attraction that refused to go away. Nile had seen Andy covered in blood and her eyes lit up with the fight, and it was pretty damn sexy. But now, Andy had held her while she cried and still thought well of her in the morning and apparently, that was catnip to Nile's libido. Nile was normally so practical about these things. But here Andy was, trampling Nile's good sense.
The problem, Nile mused, was standards. She always thought she had one set of standards. They were good, reasonable standards, and included the usual, 'Decent communicator,' and 'Makes me laugh.' Apparently, though, Nile had a secret second set of standards lurking the whole time. And these standards included things like 'Can work with me to murder an evil CEO' and 'Tells me stories about the domestication of the horse.'
It was annoying. But life was usually much, much worse than just annoying. Nile could handle this.
"We should find a bee and video call Nicky," Nile suggested.
"Yes," Andy said, lighting up with a grin. "We should do exactly that."
After the dairy farm, Andy didn't let Nile know where they were going. She did let Nile drive, but just pointed them in a direction and told her to go. Usually, Nile drove in the morning, Andy drove after lunch, and they'd stop in the evening—sometimes at a decent hotel, sometimes in one of the many safehouses they had set up over the years.
As France turned to Switzerland turned to Italy, Andy's taste in music while Nile was driving didn't get better. It just got more bizarre. Andy played sea shanties and critiqued their historical accuracy, and she shut off the music to teach Nile the versions she had known. Andy played slow dirgelike recordings with some sort of horn Nile couldn't recognize, and told Nile stories about watching the Sahara dry out, about traveling far south into Africa to find Lykon, and the people she had met there.
After that, Andy found more music, drums, as close to the rhythm Lykon had always played. She beat out the differences between the music and her memory on the dashboard.
That sparked something in Nile, and she pulled over and demanded Andy drive, to take control of her phone again. She found old slave-songs, the same rhythm, and told Andy some of what it was like to grow up without a history, to know the story of who your family had been was stolen by greed and colonization. They ran the music forward in time, through jazz again, through R&B, through hip-hop, and Lykon's rhythms were still there, underneath it all.
"You remind me of him," Andy said quietly, when Nile finally shut the music off and they sat quietly together. "Not the skin. Not just the skin. But he stabbed me when we first met, too. He was a fighter. And he had the sweetest smile in the world."
"My smile isn't all that sweet," Nile said, arching an eyebrow.
"It doesn't show up as often. But when it does…" Andy trailed off, and shrugged.
"Tell me more about Lykon," Nile said, instead of confronting what on earth Andy might mean by that. "And give me back the wheel. I can't wait to hear what cacophony you put on the speaker this time."
It turned out, Andy's plan was a grand tour of baklava, and Nile was completely on board. She couldn't sense half the things Andy talked about, the texture of the nut, the application of the rose water, but it was delicious, and it was nice seeing Andy so happy.
Nile realized, with a little pang, that this was also Andy saying goodbye to baklava. Andy had tasted delicacies across the Mediterranean, Middle East, and North Africa, and she wanted to make sure she ate them once more before she died. Andy didn't seem to be dwelling in grief, though. She was genuinely happy to share the experience with Nile, and Nile was happy to be along for the ride.
"I wonder what my thing is going to be," Nile mused, as they sat in a couple of patio chairs out on a balcony of a hotel in the northern countryside of Armenia. They called it paklava here, and the flavor profile was lemon and walnut and cinnamon.
"You're not stuck with one," Andy said. "That's the nice thing. You've got time."
"Yeah, I know," Nile said. "And I know there's some stuff I want to do. I'm going to sit Joe down and make him tell me everything he knows about art history."
"Make him show you all the stuff of his that's ended up in museums because he got careless with his sketchbooks," Andy replied with a chuckle. "There are some nudes of Nicky in a place in Brazil."
"Oh, yes, definitely having that conversation with him," Nile said, laughing in delight. She sobered, and added, "But...that'll be a Nile-and-Joe thing. And that's great. But I wonder what the Nile thing is going to be."
"It sort of evolves over time," Andy said, gesturing vaguely. "You find something you like, you do it again."
Nile remembered the rush of the wind past her as she fell, the terror in the moment, and the joy later, as she realized how close she came to flying. "I think I want to take up hang gliding. Maybe base jumping."
"We can do that," Andy said.
"Nope, not explaining to Joe and Nicky that you died because I jumped off a building with you. That's a bad way to start my probably-millenia-long future," Nile said firmly.
"You can do it," Andy amended with an amused huff. "I'll cheer from the ground."
They wound up driving up to Georgia (the country, not the state—Nile had to laugh at how different the landscape was) and finding a tandem paragliding company instead. It seemed safe enough, so Andy went up too.
"It was very pretty," Nile decided later. "But not much of a rush compared to jumping off a building.
"Very few things are," Andy said, sounding a little regretful. "But you're right, it was beautiful. I've always loved this land."
They stopped in a safehouse that night, an old stone cottage tucked in the middle of vast farmland, the nearest neighbors miles away. The Porsche looked out of place in the driveway, and Nile mused with a pang that they'd probably need to swap cars or swap locations, if they wanted to keep a low profile.
There was a garden out back, choked with weeds, and Nile spent some time exploring it. It was overgrown with vines, and it reminded Nile of her childhood dreams of having a secret garden. To her delight, she found an old fig tree, some ripe fruit still heavy on the branches. Nile picked a few, and brought them into Andy, who smiled appreciatively.
"I didn't realize there was a fig tree out there," Andy commented, biting into one and closing her eyes as she enjoyed the fruit. "Delicious."
"I think I want to plant something," Nile said impulsively. "Trees. Something I can watch grow."
Andy pulled the fig away from her mouth, her lips reddish-brown from the juice. She licked her lips, and said, "I know a place. We can head out tomorrow."
Nile's eyes lingered on Andy's lips, and she nodded.
Andy took the wheel, promising that it wasn't actually that far. They drove north, along the Caspian Sea. Nile didn't put any music on, following an instinct she couldn't quite name. It paid off, when, after watching the trees go by in silence, Andy started talking. "I was born around here, I think. It was long enough ago that I don't know. Even the stars are different these days. But I remember the sea. And I remember the steppes, to the north. That's where I rode."
Andy spun out stories, of the first people who remembered her, of the generations she once protected as god-queen and warrior.
"Of course, sometimes people want to kill their gods," Andy said wryly. "I tried to stay in one place, but for some reason or another, it always seemed safer for me to go. I stayed in the steppes, though. Around what people now call the Caspian sea. It was paradise. I couldn't imagine anywhere better. Until I dreamed of Quynh."
Quynh, the gaping wound in Andy's history. Nile held her breath, wondering if Andy was finally ready to share more.
"I dreamed of her in a jungle," Andy said, emotion making the words come out rough. "It was the first time I'd seen green like that. I didn't know where she was, I just knew I had to find her. I left the next day. She looked like the traders I'd seen come from the east. That's all I knew. So I went East, until I was further than I'd ever been."
Quynh had dreamed her too. They started leaving each other clues, trying to spend time by landmarks.
"It took fifty years, at least," Andy said. "It's so easy to find people now. The world is smaller now. But there was something about the mystery I miss. I wept, the first time I saw the vast trees of the jungle. It was beyond anything I'd seen. And then again, when I finally saw Quynh. I knew I'd never be alone again."
Andy stopped talking then, and her shoulders shook. Nile leaned over, laying her palm against Andy's shoulder. Andy tried to breathe in, then choked, and the wheel jerked a little as she blinked, and tears ran down her face. Andy shook her head and signaled her way over to the side of the road and parked the car. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel in a grip that blanched her knuckles. She slowly collapsed forward until her head touched the steering wheel.
She screamed, then, against the steering wheel, an anguished cry of emotion fighting it's way out.
Nile reached over and rubbed between Andy's shoulder blades, not at all surprised when Andy screamed again, loud and echoing. The road was empty, there was nobody around but Nile. It was like Andy said, sometimes a body just needed to not be okay for a bit.
Andy cried, a little, but it seemed she needed to purge her rage, more than her grief. Helplessness, Nile thought. She knew the sound of that. Eventually, Andy found her equilibrium again, and leaned back against the driver's seat with a deep breath. A moment later, she tipped over to the side, resting her temple against Nile's shoulder, silently demanding comfort.
Nile kissed the top of Andy's head, and gave the best comfort she could. Low and fierce, she promised, "I promise I'll keep looking. Like you said, the world's getting smaller. We'll find her. She won't stay lost."
"Thank you," Andy said. "I'm going to keep looking. But if I don't—before I—"
"She won't stay lost," Nile promised again, and felt the words like a vow.
"Thank you," Andy repeated. She sat up, took a deep breath, and then turned to Nile. She reached over, and cradled Nile's jaw in both her hands. "I trust you. I'm glad you came to us. I'm glad to know you."
"I am too," Nile said softly.
Andy leaned in and kissed her. All Nile's angst, her worries about Andy being too white, too bossy, too unknowably ancient suddenly seemed very far removed. Still existing, and she could worry about it later, but over there. Andy was here. And yes, Andy was her friend, but Andy was also the one that knew her, and the one that wanted to be known by her. All the fretting seemed inconsequential compared to that.
Nile kissed Andy back, running her fingers through the short hair at the back of Andy's neck. Nile stroked the fine strands, down the line of Andy's neck, groaning a little as Andy pulled back and the soft skin slipped along Nile's fingers.
"It's not too much further," Andy said, a little apologetically. "Let's continue this later."
"Okay," Nile agreed. The car was somewhat hampering her style. "I just hope I don't talk myself out of this by the time we get there."
Andy chuckled. "If you do, we'll talk," she promised.
As the car set off down the road, Nile found the courage to ask, "You and Quynh?"
"Lovers, friends, partners, matched in ways that no one on earth comes close to understanding. But we've never been ones to hoard love," Andy said, like it was that simple. And maybe it was. "She is and probably will always be furious with me. But not for loving you."
"Love," Nile said faintly.
"Telling me you don't love me too?" Andy asked, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth.
"I…no, I guess—" Nile cut off, huffing in exasperation. "I'm used to that word coming with a lot more drama when it comes to people that kiss me."
"Do you want drama?" Andy asked, the grin growing wider. "I can be dramatic."
"Don't you dare."
"Until I met you, I had forgotten what hope felt like. I wanted to kiss you to taste it again."
Nile groaned, and covered her face with her hands.
"It's true," Andy said, finally breaking out into a laugh.
"I know," Nile bit out, sliding down in the passenger seat in embarrassment. "That's what makes it awful." But she reached over and put her hand on Andy's knee anyway, and Andy smiled over at her, so maybe things weren't all that awful, after all.
They didn't talk, so Nile went back to her phone and pulled up something mellow. A relaxed, clear drumbeat and lush strings rolled over them, as Andy and Nile drove down the nearly-empty highway.
They pulled up at a little dock, and Andy told Nile, "Grab the luggage. We might not be back for a bit."
Nile gave the Porsche a skeptical look. It stood out like a sore thumb along the rural coast.
"It's fine," Andy called. "I've got another one."
"Of course she does," Nile muttered to the car, hopefully quiet enough that Andy couldn't hear it. "Just...another car. Why not?" Taking a breath, she called back, "I like this one."
"You'll like what I have to show you even more. Come on!"
Nile grumbled again, and gave the car one last pat, before grabbing the luggage and following Andy over to a rickety looking motorboat.
"Um," Nile said, giving it a dubious once-over.
"Come on," Andy said, impatiently grabbing the luggage and throwing it in the boat. "It's old, not broken."
"Like you," Nile said, smiling sweetly at Andy.
Andy narrowed her eyes at Nile, then reached over and pulled Nile into a kiss that lit Nile's skin up, and sent prickles down to her toes. "And you like it," Andy said softly as she pulled away, leaving Nile rocking back on her heels. Andy gave a little smirk. "Now get in the boat."
Nile narrowed her eyes at the demand, and kissed the smirk off Andy's face instead, happy to wring a gasp from Andy when she curled her thumb through Andy's belt loops and pulled her closer.
"Please get in the boat?" Andy tried again when Nile was done kissing her.
"Fine," Nile agreed, and got in the boat.
Andy pointed the boat at the sea, following no markers Nile could discern. She took them out until the lakeshore was just a smear behind them, and the vast stretch of water spread around them. Andy seemed to know where she was going, though, and sure enough out of the vast blue of the ocean, a stone roof rose, a little island coming into sight underneath it.
"Here we are," Andy said, as she pulled the boat alongside an old stone dock, weatherworn stairs carved into the jutting outcropping.
"Where is here?" Nile asked, looking around at the little scrubby patch of island in the middle of the sea.
"One of my homes," Andy said, hopping onto the dock with practiced ease and holding out her hand for Nile. "Come on."
At first glance, the island wasn't much to look at. Scrubby shoreline and a stone house, surrounded by high stone walls. Andy pointed out little wildflowers as they walked up to the house, sounding a little sad as she said, "Industrialization's been terrible for the sea. There used to be birds…" Andy made a gesture to the sky and the shore. "I hear they're taking steps to protect the water now. Maybe it'll help. But, regardless, some things remain." She pushed open the door to her house.
It was dusty, a little run-down, but still cozy. The furniture was mostly wood, timeless in a way that meant it could have been made anytime in the last five hundred years. Andy tossed her bag down on an old couch, ignoring the whump of dust that came up. She pushed through to the back of the house. Nile more gingerly put her own bag down, and followed Andy out the back doors.
And into paradise. Within the unassuming stone walls was a bright and green garden. A riot of wildflowers, and two rows of fruit trees, citrus heavy with blossoms and pomegranate tree laden with unripe fruit. It was warmer in the back, more humid, too. Nile looked around, confused by the sudden change in environment, and up, to find a protected greenhouse roof over top. Looking closer, she found a watering system winding through the tree roots.
"There's a family, I've been paying them for the last six hundred years to come out once every couple months and tend to the place, keep a supply of non-perishable food on hand. They think I'm a part of an old money family that's used this place as a vacation home and values my privacy." Andy shrugged. "Not too far off aside from the family part. I first found this island…before I found Quynh. Built the house with my hands, over time."
Nile swallowed and looked around, suddenly feeling pressed in by history. "It's gorgeous."
"It's yours," Andy said. "I'll find the paperwork to make it legal. Teach you how to get here. It's not—there are nicer places. Better views. Easier living. We have to run the water through five different layers of filter to keep it from killing us. Electricity is generator-powered. But…" Andy gave Nile a lopsided smile. "It's home. And it's a good place to plant. I've shared this space with a lot of trees over the years."
"It's perfect," Nile said, a lump in her throat. "Are you sure you want to give it to—"
Andy cut Nile off with a kiss, backing her up. She batted aside a reaching pomegranate branch, and kept kissing Nile until Nile was moaning softly into the kiss as she felt the rough bark of an old tree press against her back, and Andy pressed urgent and insistent against her front. "Yes," Andy whispered, laying hot kisses along Nile's jaw, her neck.
Then Andy stopped, pulling back, and looked at her hand. Nile followed her gaze. The pomegranate tree had scored a sharp scratch along Andy's palm. It was shallow, and they both watched as blood welled in the cut, and the scratch didn't heal. Andy sighed. "I have so little time with you. I want to leave you something that will last."
Nile swallowed around a lump in her throat and rested one hand on Andy's hip, the other around her wrist. Nile pulled Andy closer, brought the hand to her lips, and kissed the new wound. "You're not on death's door," she said against the skin of Andy's palm. "We have time. Maybe not the eons you're used to, but time is still time." Even as she said it, though, the words went rough as her throat choked with emotion.
Andy very slowly leaned down and rested their temples together. "I love you," she said softly. "I will love you in grief and joy. You do not need to temper yourself for me."
Nile swallowed hard, and nudged Andy so their noses brushed. "I trust you," she said, and meant it. "But," she took a breath, waving a hand around the yard, "you're kissing me in a green wonderland that you apparently built yourself. I think I'd like to hold off on grief, a little longer. At least let you show me around the place, first."
Andy leaned back enough that Nile could see the easy, honest smile on her face. "Alright. I'll give you the tour."
They walked through the building, Andy sharing little features and memories, a tricky bit of stonework, the struggle she had trying to import rocks to an island she could only sometimes remember the location of. The ages of all the trees. The tricks of the rusty generator and water filtration system. The furniture, which Andy had also made, from trees that had grown and died on the island. The kitchen table was apparently seven hundred years old.
"Still solid," Andy had said, then boosted Nile up onto the wooden surface for a leisurely makeout session.
They ended up curled on the bed in the upstairs loft, with a window looking out over the wild blue of the Caspian Sea as the sun slowly lowered over it. Nile fought to cover a yawn, and Andy chuckled before pulling her down onto the bed. "Sleep," Andy said.
"It's early," Nile protested. They'd been up early, and who knows what timezone her body thought it was in, but the sun was barely setting. Besides, tired as she may be, she was sharing a bed with a woman that loved her. Nile fought back the tiredness and reached for Andy's waist, running a hand up her ribs.
Andy chuckled. "Later," she promised softly. "Sleep now. You're right. We have time. Besides, I don't know how many of the lights still work. Better to sleep in the dark and wake up early." Nile gave a sigh, mostly contented, only a little disappointed, and curled up against the muscle and skin of Andy's body. Andy traced fingers up and down Nile's bicep, and Nile let herself slowly fall asleep.
She woke up in the thin grey morning light, to find Andy sitting on the side of the bed, curled over on herself. "You okay?" Nile asked, pushing up onto an elbow and reaching for Andy in concern.
"Yes," Andy said slowly, looking stunned. "I'm—" She pivoted suddenly, and held up her hand in the gray light. "Cuts don't heal that fast." She hesitated. "Right?" she added, a little uncertain.
Nile had to squint, but the palm appeared to just be smooth skin. Nile felt her heartbeat start to pick up. Could Andy…no. She didn't even want to think it, didn't want that hope just to be taken away. "Uh. No they—" She had been a normal human just a few months ago, she should remember with certainty whether or not a little cut like that could heal that quickly. But it had been shallow. Maybe it was just white people's skin? "I don't…maybe a fresh injury?"
Andy burst out laughing. It only sounded a little hysterical. "You want to stab me again?"
"No," Nile said, exasperated. "Another shallow cut. So we can see. Before we get excited."
They made their way down to the kitchen and Andy pulled a knife out and washed it off. As the dawn rays started to seep everything in pale gold, Andy took a breath and held the blade over her forearm, before making a quick, determined cut.
Nile watched as the blood welled, one drop slowly blooming on the skin, then two, then three. They collected, and dripped down Andy's arm—leaving nothing behind. Pale, unblemished skin.
Nile felt like she was having trouble breathing, as she looked at Andy. She wasn't—she might not lose Andy a year, a decade into her elongated life. She might get to keep Andy for fifty years, a hundred, a thousand, or more. What would love even look like at the end of it? "It's back."
Andy nodded. "I…" Her hand started shaking. She set the knife down. "Everyone else died."
Nile winced. Right. Andy had been tired. Andromache the Sythian wasn't even her name, it was just the oldest name she remembered. As miraculous as the idea of keeping Andy at her side felt, Andy deserved to be done, and now the world was saying there was still something left for her to do. "Are you…okay?"
"I don't know!" Andy snapped, spreading her palms, the perfectly unblemished skin on display. "I thought I was ready. I thought it would be a relief. But…" Andy's eyes went soft as she looked up at Nile. "I was thinking last night, holding you, that I could do with a few more centuries."
Nile licked her lips. She couldn't imagine love like that. She didn't feel it. She didn't think she would be able to until she had those centuries behind her, so that she could understand what it was like to look ahead. But she did know that she wanted Andy, wanted to try to understand the depths, wanted to give her something good in return. "I'd be down for a few centuries. Maybe more."
Andy looked up, a little wry humor in the crease of her eyes. "I won't hold you to that. A double handful of decades is a very different consideration than a thousand years."
Nile shook her head. "We'll see what works. For however long it works. And, when we get Quynh back—"
Andy flinched. "Quynh," she whispered. "I—everyone else died. We found out they lost their immortality when they took an injury, and they died within a few days from the wound. I'm the first to live past it. We never knew…we never knew it might come back." She looked up, her eyes big and worried. "If she's underwater and it goes, she'll just die."
Nile stepped in, and took Andy's hands. "Maybe it's time to meet up with the guys again. Give them the good news. Talk to Copley. See if he can hook us up with a submarine and a good scanner. Figure something out. And when we get her back, we'll see what works for all of us. For as long as we wind up having."
Andy looked around. "I'd still like to give you the house. I like the idea of getting to see what you make of it."
"Maybe we share the house," Nile said. She stepped closer and kissed Andy. It was almost becoming normal. It would never stop feeling like a surprise. "I'll take over the garden, you can keep making the furniture."
"Sounds good," Andy said, and spread her thighs, pulling Nile in between them, fitting their bodies together.
They left the house in the afternoon. Nile had been ready to bolt out the door then and there, but Andy had insisted that they had gone through all the trouble of getting them out there—might as well take some time with the place. They'd gone out to the garden, picked some fruit and ate it, made sure all the hoses were unclogged and everything was growing well. They cleared a patch of dirt and Nile planted an apple seed.
"It's probably not going to take. And even if it does, the apples are probably going to be awful," Nile said, as she still mounded the dirt carefully over the seed.
"We'll see," Andy said.
That was the joy of not dying, wasn't it? Getting to see.
Andy had let her have the tiny shower, using up the water stored in the filtration system. And then, while they had waited for the system to filter a fresh batch of water, Andy had pressed Nile back to the bed. Still smelling of sweat and green and earth, she'd slowly taken Nile apart, and only when Nile was gasping and shivering, taught Nile how to do the same to her.
Well, not quite the same. It turned out five thousand years was a lot of time to get very good at sex. Nile laid out like a starfish on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wrung out and utterly satisfied. She'd have to pick up her game. Good thing she was a fast learner.
Miracle of miracles, the Porsche was still there when Andy emerged from the shower and finally decided it was time to go. Nile let Andy drive without a fuss. She was exhausted. Not just from the sex, from the whole pressing weight of immortality, from the sorrow and joy and the miraculous fact that she might get to keep the impossible, beautiful woman next to her for a long, long time.
"Go ahead and nap," Andy said, reaching over to squeeze Nile's thigh. "I'll drive us until I'm tired and find a hotel." Nile gave a sleepy nod and pressed her head to the side of the car door. The purr of the engine lulled her eyes closed, as the Porsche pulled the miles of the highway behind them, carrying them into the future.