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Elliott said nothing, and something sharp snagged at Niko’s insides. He knew what Elliott was leaving unsaid: I’ve done it. But not you.

“Elliott, let’s go. I don’t want to waste any more time. D’s waiting on us. If Dad’s in there, I don’t want to leave him at their mercy for another minute—”

“I understand,” Elliott cut him off. “You’re right.”

Niko started forward, his heart hammering. It was so loud in his ears it matched the muffled gunfire on Death’s end of their connection. It was so loud he feared it alone would give them away to Galapol.

After a moment, he heard Elliott’s steps fall silent, and knocked into the back of him, nearly losing his balance again.

He clenched his jaw to keep from snapping out of unbearable stress, his patience barely restrained.

Everything was pressing down on him, crushing him under its weight and urgency. “What’s up?”

“Niko…” Elliott’s voice came slow, calm, and careful now in a way he didn’t like.

He was suddenly transported back in time ten years ago, a Galapol officer at their front door, explaining in that same careful way that his mother and brother were never coming home from their shopping trip again. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Yeah?”

Elliott paused to consider before continuing. “I think that I should go in there alone.”

“No.” The word ejected itself from Niko’s mouth before Elliott had even finished speaking.

Elliott took it in stride, continuing in that same calm, delicate tone. “It’s a minefield up ahead. Galapol is littering the entrance. Getting through them is going to require not giving anything away.”

“You think I can’t do it—”

“Listen to me. Please. I just want to make sure, more than anything, that your family gets out. You’re not as used to working with stealth yet as I am.”

The memory of brilliantly failing their hit against Skeevy Larry burned through him, a hot shame.

He felt sick. His father was in there, and Niko was going to hang back and let Elliott take all the risk.

Let him walk—alone—into the Gheroun Imperial Palace, through a cluster of hostile Galapol agents and however many trained imperial soldiers and guards lay waiting inside.

This whole thing had been a trap, and he was about to send Elliott alone into it.

Elliott, who had taken on the lion’s share of researching who’d even abducted them. Elliott, who now was going to be the one to put his life at risk. Who was going to be the one to—with any luck—save the lives of Niko’s father and friend while he stood around and hoped for the best.

Niko was truly useless.

“You’ll have to get back out, too. You know, Dad— Dad and Loolae have no experience with stealth, either—”

He heard Elliott’s slow, shaky intake of breath as the other man searched for what to say. I can work with them. I can’t, with you. He didn’t even have to say it.

Inappropriate, awful rage surged up through Niko. It choked him, nearly blinded him. Every breath he took was thick with it, an anger aimed at everything, at everyone. At Elliott, at Khaathra. Most of all, at himself.

If he hadn’t ever gotten injured, if he were able to ambulate with the careful steps and quietude of Elliott—

“I can do it.” He spat the words, pushing on ahead before Elliott could protest, each step matching the anxious and rageful pounding of his pulse.

“Niko—” Elliott began, but Niko barreled right past him. He couldn’t see the other man, but felt the impact and heard the quiet, sharp exhale as they collided. After a moment, Elliott’s voice came again, somehow shouting and yet only a hissed whisper at the same time. “Niko!”

Niko didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to sit this one out, wasn’t going to stand back and be incompetent while all his allies did the heavy lifting for him.

Something jerked him back by the arm and Niko stumbled, nearly losing his balance yet again.

Elliott had grabbed him. He shrugged free, spinning to face the other man.

When he did, Elliott was barely visible at all, merely a faint outline, a distortion of the air.

“Stop,” Elliott warned. His tone was dark, a command that left no quarter. “I’m not done talking to you.”

“I told you I can fucking do it! There’s nothing to talk about!” Niko turned to continue on, when he was grabbed once more. He wrenched his arm away harder this time, and with a pang of guilt, felt—rather than saw—Elliott stumble back from the force of it.

For a brief moment, Elliott paused, quiet and still, a dark storm brewing in the air between them. Then something heavy and hard slammed into the side of Niko’s helmet, eliciting a solid, reverberating thud that made his ears ring .

It wasn’t enough to be felt through his thick armor, but the impact had been so unexpected that this time, Niko was knocked off balance and couldn’t recover his footing.

He crashed against the ground so loudly that he and Elliott both briefly froze, but the cluster of agents was still far enough away that none of them even looked in their direction.

It didn’t take long for Niko to put the pieces together.

Elliott had punched him.

He heard the other man step closer, boots crushing the gravel beneath them. Elliott bore down over him. Even without having a visual right now, Niko could sense the cold rage radiating from him.

“You’re not listening to me, Niko. You’re going too far again.

You don’t know when to back down, and it’s going to get us killed.

If any of those agents sense a single thing is off, we’re done for.

We can’t take that many on. Look at their armor.

It’s like yours. We can’t get through them by force.

Not to mention they’ll probably sound the fucking alarm. We’ll be swarmed in seconds.”

“I can do this—”

“We just spoke about this, right? About staying back when asked to?” Elliott’s voice finally softened. “Let me do this for you. Let me get your family back safely to you.”

Tears stung the corners of Niko’s eyes, behind his closed visor. Every muscle in his body was taut with pent-up frustration, with agony and rage directed, now, only at himself. Even now, he wanted to argue. Even now, knowing every word Elliott had aimed toward him was right.

In the end, making sure they all got out of this alive was the only thing that mattered. Far more than his own ego. Far more than feeling competent.

“Niko,” Elliott said. “Give me your hand.” For a moment, Niko merely stayed as he was, before finally reaching out. The two of them found each other’s hands, and Niko wished he could feel the warmth of Elliott’s through his gauntlet. Elliott helped pull him back to his feet.

Humiliation and sorrow washed through Niko, a cold, congealing oil that replaced all the anger that had once filled him to the brim.

“Listen to me. There are so many things you excel at that I can’t do,” Elliott continued.

“I never would have made it this far without you. I’m alive because of you.

You told me we need to work with each other’s strengths.

This is my strength. Not your weakness, but my strength.

So let me do what I do best for you. Let me return the kindness you gave me. Please.”

“I—I—” Niko relented, hanging his head as he let out a long breath. “Alright, babe. Yeah. Please, just…”

“I’ll be careful. You can trust me, Niko.”

“...Thanks, Elliott.”

“I love you. More than I have words for. I hope that you know that.”

He did know that. It was what made Elliott going in there alone for him all the harder. Niko ached.

With that, he heard Elliott slip past him, then the other man was gone, the forest around them silent and still as though he’d never been there.

Niko kept watch over the hidden entrance, breath held for what felt like moments at a time.

His visor’s tech allowed him to magnify his view of the entrance and the agents there.

They kept their tight formation around it, gazes pointed warily towards the columns of smoke rising from the faux Niko’s onslaught of Zaaka Narai.

His breath caught every time he thought about Elliott having to maneuver through the cluster of them.

Niko waited for the moment when Elliott would slip inside, to look for any telltale giveaway—the stirring of gravel, a brushing up against gnarled foliage.

He was especially grateful for the distractions wrought by Deleera’s group and the Legend, hoping if there were any small slip-ups, that the explosions and chaos in the city beyond would be enough to divide and keep the agents’ attention.

But Elliott was so skilled that as the time crawled on, Niko realized he’d likely already gotten through and he himself hadn’t even noticed.

He tried to swallow the slurry of discomfort and shame that crawled through him.

He was both ashamed at the tantrum he’d thrown—the mission here on Haneen was one that only allotted precious little time and had lots of moving pieces that put dozens of lives at risk, including Oliver and Loolae’s—and that they’d even had to go there in the first place.

Elliott had been right. They needed to balance one another out. He needed to relinquish control and let Elliott take the reins sometimes. But he wished he hadn’t had to.

He fought against pelting Elliott with inquiries over their comm line (Are you okay?

Everything good? What’s going on in there?) and tried to remind himself that if the other man wasn’t reporting anything back, he was either at risk of being overheard or nothing was going wrong that needed reporting.

Today had been a lesson in restraint.

Instead, Niko reached out to the others to try and quell his restless anxiety. “How’s it going out there? Death? Legend? Elliott’s inside now.”