Chapter Text
Nick drove an already pretty battered pickup truck, repeatedly ordering himself to unclasp his clenched jaw. The lights of the night highway blurred before his eyes. He was returning to Baltimore, burning his bridges behind him. Aimee and Ashley were left behind: the family for whom he’d gambled with his old life and lost everything. In return, they were dealt new cards, a chance to start over in Witness Protection. Going back was risky. It deprived criminally all the victims and deaths of meaning. It was stupid, after all. But he could no longer run.
His Pop had been ill for a long time, and although they hadn’t seen each other since leaving, even Nick had realized that the time was approaching for farewell. After the murder of his brother, who had become entangled in mafia affairs, and the disappointment in his son, Louis had never recovered from the shame with which they’d covered the family name. For many months, the stumbled Sobotkas became the main topic of gossip in the diaspora. His parents were lucky not to lose their home because of him; the stupidity of hiding heroin and dirty money there could’ve resulted in confiscation of property. The stubborn old man refused to talk to him; Nick learned news from his mother's increasingly quiet voice on the phone. At first, he called once every few months; the last couple of months, knowing that she herself wouldn't be able to contact him, every week.
If it weren't for Aimee, Nick would’ve stopped buying disposable phones long ago and would’ve given his mother his number. But his girls couldn’t be put at risk.
And then no one picked up the phone at home, and Nick immediately understood everything. No amount of hysteria from Aimee could change anything; his entire new life fit into an ordinary sports bag.
Their relationship kinda fell apart in the emigration from that old life, piece by piece, till all that was left was the bare frame holding it up: the love they both had for their daughter. They never get married. Guess once you take away the family, the church, a quiet wedding just stops meaning anything. But his girl was doing well, he didn't take the endless bawling out for where he’d brought them. She had adapted very well, from his point of view, got a job as a hairdresser again, found a school for Ashley and didn't get mixed up in the cover story for new acquaintances. Nick himself didn’t make any new friends; he’d gotten too moody, lost whatever confidence he used to have. He missed the brotherhood back at the docks, the easy talk, the knowing looks, the dumb jokes. Even the familiar stink of the port that he grew up with. Now he just got by, driving gigs, some warehouse shit, whatever low-skill job would take him. Nothing steady, nothing that felt like it meant anything.
A thin thread connected him to his new life, through his girls. But they were irresistibly pulled in different directions: Aimee to the future, him to Baltimore. They’d be fine without him, but Nick couldn’t leave the past behind completely. He had to stop dragging them down, and with him — come what may. Sink or swim, that was his bet. Jakoś to będzie!*