Fell In A Concrete Jungle (Nicholas Ruffilo/ Bad Omens)

7: File

~Gemma's POV:~


It was late, I was sitting in my apartment at my counter scrolling through the media and working on a small drawing I had been meaning to finish. Music played quietly in the background as my laptop sat in front of me, it was maybe midnight or just after now and Nicholas had swapped out with one of Noah's friends who usually spent the night outside my door, truthfully I much preferred the blue-eyed demon as I would call him.
Something just felt off though, the way they would shut me out these last few days had me questioning, I would enter a room and they'd stop talking or when I asked what they were talking about I was met with 'nothing you need to know' which never helped me either. The last few days I would visit Helen at her small coffee shop, I would sit down and read while Nicholas would meet the others in the back—It only grew my curiosity further.

Chewing my lip, I entered my laptop and went into my fathers' network—I hadn't done this since I was a teenager, and even then the files I saw made me sick to my stomach and not sleep for nearly a week. Typically, I avoided using this network to learn about someone but with how closed out I had been it felt like the only way I could learn of the others. Typing in Helen's name first, I saw the first file in my fathers' network—the incident Noah had mentioned, hesitant for a moment I clicked the file only to gasp as a video popped up on my screen.
This felt wrong.
Only I couldn't look away, Noah had entered the small shop, the smile on Helen's face told me this was before they began dating, she seemed more open here and even more energetic, she didn't wear a scarf either or a turtleneck like she had been when I met her. He sat down at a table, newspaper in his hand as he read what ever article was there that day.
Watching as men entered the shop, guns high as they screamed—I couldn't make out the words as the video didn't have sound, I watched as Helen raised her hands in fear—words forming without the sound and what seems to be her telling them to take the money and leave.
Gasping as I stood up, I watched as one man pulled Helen from behind the counter which caught Noah's attention, his brown eyes filled with rage as he slid his hand into his coat pocket. Helen shook as she was held against the man, what looked to be wire in his hands as it pressed firmly to her neck, and I could swear I saw the blood as he moved her around causing it to cut her.
It wasn't long before Noah had their attention and guns were fired, I could only imagine what Helen and the few other customers felt hearing that as everyone dropped to the ground, the only man standing still was Noah as he rushed to Helen's aid.

This was why she wore the scarf? The scar I saw the other day, was it from this event? My stomach churned at the thought of how terrified she must have felt.
Closing Helen's file, I couldn't help as I touched my own neck—the feeling of sadness sitting heavy at the thought of why she was so nervous around new people, I was glad she had Noah, and seeing Noah defend her like that had me proud of him in a way.

My curiosity didn't stop though, one by one I typed in each name learning little bit more about them until I got to Nicholas's name. My fingers hovered over the file as I took a deep breath in, I needed to know exactly who my father hired to protect me in any way, who he was trusting my life with.

Clicking his files I knitted my brows confused as to why his file looked so different compared to the others.

Name: Nicholas Ruffilo.
Age: 30 years old.
Group: Bad Omens.

Age eighteen Nicholas Ruffilo suffered a tragic loss of his family, the members of his family were believed to have suffered fatal gunshot wounds.
Agents have questioned Nicholas on the incident but the time they arrived at the scene Nicholas was deemed too distraught to be questioned.
Nicholas lived in a group home with his other members of the group, on December 15th was the last time the group home seen Bad Omens.
Through the years it is believed that they worked alongside MIND and have a part in The Grey museum, file indicates we do not initiate battle unless ordered to do so.

Part of me didn't know what I was reading, slipping out of my chair, I hadn't known I was crying until tears slipped down my cheeks hitting the wooden floor in my apartment—his family was murdered? They thought he had a part in it.
It must have been the reason why he didn't talk to me about himself.
Feeling the weight of the file hit me, I backed up knocking myself into my side-table my glass lamp shattering as soon as it hit the floor.

Not knowing what to do I stood there trying to think of everything I just read. My front door banged open causing me to shriek as I looked up, I wasn't met with Noah's friend—I was met with Nicholas who had his gun out ready to point it if he needed, his blue eyes scanned the room looking for the danger before his eyes rested on me. "Gemma?" he questioned.

"I-I need you to close the door and put your gun away" I wasn't going to lie to him, he was trained to look through every line in the books and his file deemed him dangerous enough.

Closing the door, he stepped into my apartment seeing the broken glass on the floor as he stepped around it, he slid his gun away in the back of his jeans as he looked around. "Did someone come in here? Are you hurt?" he looked at me trying to see if he could find any markings on me.

Shaking my head, I looked up at him as I wiped away the tears on my cheeks. "No, Nicholas. . . I, I got curious I read into files—I watched the video of Helen" her terror was something I would never forget.

He seemed annoyed as he let out a sigh, "that wasn't for you to know, Gemma, jeez this is why we don't want to tell you stuff because you do stuff like that" his tone was only annoyed, but I knew it was about to kick up a notch.

"That's not all. . ." I gestured to the laptop that still sat open, his eyes looked at the screen and I could see his face pale of color. "I know why you're so tough, you lost your family, and you were blamed for the murder, god I couldn't imagine what it was like for you."

"Don't say another fucking word" his tone startled me as his eyes left the screen, the blue in his eyes darkened like a storm on the sea. He stepped forward which had me taking a step to the side, cursing silently as my foot sliced on a shard of glass that laid on the floor, "you had no fucking right to go through mine or anyone's file. You are such a brat, you can't let things go for any amount of time, if someone tells you no you stomp your feet like a goddamn princess" his anger radiated from him.

"I didn't mean—I was just trying—"

"Stop fucking trying" he cut me off, his eyes so dark I couldn't help but gulp down my nerves. I kept my mouth shut for a moment.

"I can look into who killed them, I can try to help!" I said softly trying to defuse the situation I had created.

Nicholas straightened as he snorted, "you better be arresting your father then" the words sunk deep inside of me as I furrowed my brows, "your daddy isn't so perfect, princess. He will hurt who he wants if they don't do what he says, my father worked for him and when my father said no to him about him going to harm others, he turned on my father and put a bullet in his and my families skull, so no you can't fucking help me, and you will never fucking bring my family up again, do you understand?" he was shaking with anger as he stood in my home. "Gemma, I said do you understand?" his tone so cold I didn't know if this was someone who would hurt me in that second.

Nodding my head, I swallowed the remainder of tears that threatened to spill from me. "I understand, I'm sorry" I looked down to see a small pool of blood where I had stepped on the glass, cursing Nicholas went into my kitchen returning with the first aid kit I had under my sink.

Sitting at the same chair I was earlier; I lifted my foot to see the blood drying where it was cut. "Let me see" Nicholas said, his tone wasn't as harsh as it was moments ago. Not wanting to upset him, I extended my foot as he examined it carefully, his hands gentle as he looked to make sure there was no glass inside it—when he was happy with the outcome of no glass, he grabbed a disinfectant spray as he carefully sprayed some on the cut earning a hiss from me, his blue eyes slid up my leg before they met my green eyes as he opened a bandage. "No glass, you shouldn't need stitches" he said as he wrapped my foot carefully before putting it down.

Outside, we both looked as we heard gunshots—they were far enough away from us that I wasn't too scared, as my father told Nicholas, the jungle was different at night. "Are you going home?" I asked worried at the thought of Nicholas going out there.

"I can stand watch outside the door tonight; in case you need one of us" he suggested his eyes never leaving that window that overlooked the concrete jungle city.

He went to stand to leave when I leaned forward to grab him, when I realized what I was doing I hesitated as I stood myself up, careful not to put too much pressure on the injury. "Wait, please. . . I know you hate me, and that's okay but please stay in here, what happens if I need you and you don't have service?" he checked his phone, sure enough there was zero bars. "Please. . . Stay, you can have the sofa, it pulls out into a bed" I offered as I grabbed a broom and swept up the broken glass.

"Okay" I was surprised to hear him say those words. "I'll stay the night, but you need to be getting some sleep. Your father wants to talk with the group around noon and it's already late" how was this gentle voice the same voice that was yelling at me not even ten minutes ago?

Going to my room after, I slid myself into a dark blue oversized shirt that hung to my mid thigh—the nights were cool, but the comfort of a shirt still lingered as sometimes it got warm. My dark hair hung around my chest covering my breasts that were hidden beneath my shirt. Grabbing a spare quilt from my closet and a two pillows for him to use, I headed into my living room surprised that he had the futon already pulled out, my eyes scanned as I gulped seeing him standing there, he wore his skinny jeans but his shirt was gone as his dark hair was now tied in a loose bun above his head—I didn't want to admit to myself that he looked good, he shouldn't look good to me, not how he yelled at me.
Nicholas stopped in the middle of the living room, his eyes meeting mine after stealing a glance at my exposed thighs. "I-I brought you these, I may be a princess, but I still want my guests to be comfortable" I said placing the pillows down on the futon and handing the quilt to Nicholas—our fingers brushing over one another as I looked at him. "My mother made this blanket when I was a kid" I gestured to the soft blue quilt that had patches of a crescent moon on it, "It's the most comfortable one in my apartment, use it for tonight" I watched as he studied each stitch in the blanket, suddenly feeling guilty at the mention of my mother to him, even if we both still lost ours, how he said his family passed. . . I couldn't shake it, surely my father wasn't capable of such things?

His blue eyes seemed to soften, his chest rose and fell gently before looking at me. "Leave your door open, a few inches even—just in case, if you need me I'll be there in seconds" his voice was soft.

I admired his tattooed arms for a moment before nodding my head, "yeah, of course. . ." stepping away from him I looked back for a moment, "Nicholas. . . I am sorry, if you don't believe me that is okay, but I promise I won't question when you guys close me out anymore, I am sorry" I said, I couldn't read his expression. Taking that as my sign to leave, I couldn't help one last greedy look over his bare torso before going to my room—letting out a sigh, I listened to what he said and left my door open a few inches as I climbed into the comfort of my bed.
But his words swarmed my thoughts, from him yelling at me to what he said about my father, every last one haunted me and even haunted me when I did fall into slumber.