VIRUS - Redemption

TWENTY-THREE

12.23.2038

1 week in the Vault.

The vault door opened, and Patrick stood there, his arms behind his back, his eyes glancing from Killian to me, then back to Killian. We waited in silence for him to speak. Patrick was here officially, not like other times. He was strapped, his face showed no sign of kindness, his mannerism did not scream trustworthy; Patrick was sent here this time, for business, which meant one thing.

Both Killian and I knew it, I could sense it in the tightness of his body beside me as we stared at Patrick.

This meant Nikita was home.

From behind his back, Patrick pulled out a stack of clothing, throwing it on the floor in front of us. His eyes fell on me, his lips purse as he gives one solemn nod, confirming every theory I had in my mind about what his visit meant. We were being dressed for our sentencing.

This sentencing meant a lot to me; most importantly the reasoning behind Nikita coming home. This meant she was done with London, whether she had won or lost. She had finished, and that may mean my home was gone. That may mean that my past, present and future was gone. My Mother, my house, my community, my job.

Nikita arriving to the Bank meant so much more than my life expectancy. It meant I didn't know if my own Mother was alive. I didn't know where she was. I didn't know if there was a home to come home to. A house does not determine the home, it's the people inside it; and I may have lost my people. That terrified me.

The thought of my family gone was the single scariest thing my brain could fathom. I did not care for my life. I did not care what Nikita chose to do with me; I cared what she did with my Family. With Iris. With Robert. With Ana. I cared.

Iris was the light to fight the shadows.

Patrick closed the door, leaving Killian and I alone in the vault; again. For the 100th time. Alone, again.

"We'll be okay." Killian nodded softly to me, and I responded with a nod. He didn't know the arrival of Nikita meant the shutdown of me. I didn't know how to tell him I just lost all hope I ever had; I wouldn't be okay, but he wouldn't understand that. He couldn't, his Brother is here with us. We know what happened to him.

Killian bent down, picking up the clothes that Patrick had just thrown to us. He held up a familiar sweater, showing it. It was the sweater Killian was brought in with; rips, dirt stains and all. It hadn't been washed or repaired. This was different; we always got clean clothes.

"They don't want Nikita knowing we've been taken care of." Killian said, handing me my Father's jacket that I had worn on the day I arrived at the Bank. I swallowed hard, taking it from him slowly, I was surprised at the weight of the leather. I had never struggled to hold the jacket, but my arms felt almost at breaking point as I held it outstretched. A week had done damage that had gone unnoticed by me; I was weaker than before.

I barely ate, I gave most of my meals to Killian who always reluctantly accepted once he realised, I truly wasn't going to eat it. Truth be told; I didn't want to eat. I wasn't hungry; ever. The only thing I wanted was a cup of coffee at my kitchen table next to Iris; it was all I ever craved, and I couldn't stomach anything else.

"I can't read you right now." I looked over to Killian, who had begun to remove his clothing to get changed. "I usually can, but your wall is up."

"I was just thinking of London." I didn't want to go into detail, I didn't feel the need. Who knew if I would ever see Killian again after this meeting? Who knew if we'd be alive to greet each other and hug and say we made it? I didn't know. He didn't know. I didn't believe his affirmations that we would be okay; I didn't even know if he believed them.