Page 33 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Seeing Nikolai standing there at the door cracked open something inside him, and Elliot’s bottom lip trembled.

The cold numbness he’d pulled around himself after being brought back to Mattia suddenly felt fragile.

Like just the idea of Nikolai was enough to draw the tender parts of him back to the surface.

“I’m here to take you back,” Nikolai said.

The words came to him through a fog. Then he took in the rest of Nikolai—black tactical gear, gun in hand.

Because he’d come here for a fight. A fight with Mattia.

Mattia .

Where was he? He’d gone out several hours ago in a hurry, but when would he be back?

A shivering started in his limbs. Over the last two days Mattia’s comings and goings had been irregular to the point of making Elliot sick with nerves. Every time Mattia came back it was in a rage, one he took out on Elliot either by hand or by—

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Oh god, oh fuck, and if Mattia came back and found Nikolai here…

“You can’t be here!” Elliot cried, rushing up to the door. “He’s–if Mattia comes back–”

“Is okay,” Nikolai tried to say, but Elliot cut him off.

“No! No, you can’t be here! You have to–he’s going to–” He’d kill Nikolai. Mattia would kill Nikolai in cold blood, and then what? Then Elliot would have to live knowing it was all his fault. That he’d caused the death of a good man and–

He wasn’t getting enough air. His chest heaved as the panic ran over him.

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Nikolai said, but it sounded like he was speaking underwater. Or maybe Elliot was underwater. Everything was spinning, distorted.

He was drowning.

Elliot reached for the nearby wall as he staggered into it. He’d barely eaten anything the last two days, not having had the stomach for it, and he knew he was weak and woozy from the lack.

“Breathe,” Nikolai urged. There was some shuffling, the sound of a zipper, then a soft bundle was being shoved into Elliot’s hands. A strong arm curled around him, Nikolai preventing him from falling all the way to the floor.

“Elliot, breathe,” Nikolai’s voice said. “Is okay. You’re safe now. I’m not leaving you with him.”

The words didn’t make any sense in Elliot’s head, and he squeezed the soft thing in his hands.

He looked down to find familiar orange fur.

Apricot .

Elliot’s chest split open, and then he really was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders heaved. Emotion moved through him, crushing him, pulverizing the walls he’d tried to build to withstand Mattia.

He was so, so tired.

“Is okay,” Nikolai repeated. “But we have to go. Is there anything you’re needing from here?”

Was there anything he needed? He didn’t understand the question. “I don’t–I don’t know. You have to go,” he said again. All he knew was that Nikolai couldn’t be here when Mattia came back.

“Yes,” Nikolai said firmly. “We are both going. Do you need anything? To take with you?”

Did he need anything from this apartment? Elliot shook his head dumbly. The only item of sentiment he had was the one right now in his arms. The one he thought he’d lost forever.

“Then we’re going,” Nikolai said, and his arm around Elliot's shoulder began ushering him from the room.

Elliot went, body weak and mind spinning circles.

They went down the hall and down the stairs before Elliot could even wrap his head around what was happening. But Nikolai's hands on him were strong and careful as he guided them down the stairs without incident.

At the bottom of the stairs was a man dressed in the same tactical attire, weapon in hand. Pyotr. He and Nikolai nodded at each other, and then they started back through the apartment and toward the elevator.

There was another man in the elevator, Alex, and a woman he didn’t know, who was dressed in a housekeeping uniform. They all crowded in, and the elevator doors closed.

Elliot bit his lip to keep his whimpers in, terrified that when the doors opened again, Mattia would be there.

But when the doors did open, the lobby was empty. Nikolai guided him out and they went right, walking quickly down the block. It was dusk, cars and pedestrians everywhere. His feet were bare. He’d forgotten shoes.

Then suddenly, they were at a minivan and Nikolai was helping him inside.

“We’re done, heading back now,” Nikolai said. It took Elliot far too long to realize he was speaking to someone not present, that there was an earbud in his ear. “Get out.”

There were more clips of conversation, but Elliot tuned them out, without the capacity to intake anything else. He felt sick and tired down to his bones, but it felt too pathetic to be the person in the car crying and curled around a stuffed animal.

He needed to not be a bother. More of a bother.

The drive back to Nikolai’s house felt like a dream. Then the car was through the gates and up the driveway.

The van stopped. Nikolai said something in Russian to Alex, Pyotr, and the woman, and then ushered Elliot out of the van.

Nikolai guided Elliot up the steps and into the house, a careful hand at the small of Elliot’s back. He was warm, and everything else about Elliot was so cold.

He didn’t know what was going to happen now.

Nikolai took him not to the bedroom he’d been staying in, but to a different one.

Elliot had just enough awareness to notice it was a regular room.

It hadn’t been stripped bare, and there were no bars on the windows.

It looked like every other part of Nikolai's house.

The furniture was plush, the bedspread colorful, and the large armchair by the window looked cozy enough to curl up in.

There was even art on the walls, bright, artistic shots of cities.

“Here, sit,” Nikolai said as he led Elliot over to the bed.

He was grateful to sit. His knees felt wobbly, and his balance was still off.

“You…” Elliot licked his lips. His voice was hoarse. “You didn’t have to come get me.”

“I could not leave you with him,” Nikolai said. He sounded angry, and Elliot shrank down. Then Nikolai said, much gentler, “I know you weren’t wanting to go back to him.”

Elliot squeezed the giraffe in his lap. “Is everything… okay?” He was afraid to ask, afraid to know, but it was all his fault so he had to know.

“Is okay,” Nikolai said, kneeling down next to the bed. “Vitale…” his expression darkened. “He will not hurt you again.”

Elliot looked down to where his fingers were digging into the soft fur. It was easier than looking at Nikolai. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble.”

“You’re not trouble,” Nikolai said firmly. And then, quieter, “I’m wanting you to be safe.”

Elliot swallowed and clutched at Apricot. He hadn’t felt safe in a long, long time.

There had been a few brief, bright moments in the previous week, when he’d been able to cook for Nikolai. But even then, Mattia had hung over Elliot’s head.

“Is… is Mattia…?”

“I’m dealing with him,” Nikolai said. “I—”

He tilted his head as if listening to something in his earpiece, then quickly pushed to his feet. Elliot watched him rise with wide, wet eyes.

“I’m wanting you to be safe,” Nikolai said again, gently touching Elliot’s shoulder. “I’m having to deal with this now, but I will be back.”

He turned and walked toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t—don’t leave the property. Please.”

And then he was striding from the room.

He didn’t shut or lock the door behind him.

***

Nikolai had left the door open when he’d left, but after several long minutes of just sitting there, staring at nothing, Elliot had to get up and close the door. The open doorway made him nervous.

A closed door wouldn’t do much to keep someone out, if Mattia sent another man to drag Elliot away, but it… it was something.

There was nothing to do in the room, but he did have access to the en suite bathroom, so he spent some time washing his face and feet in the sink with the hand soap.

He didn’t have his toothbrush or shower supplies, and while he—he knew he could probably go get them, Elliot couldn’t bring himself to leave the bedroom.

In the end, he curled up in bed with Apricot and fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

Sometime later, a soft knock on the door woke him. He startled awake, fear jammed in his throat.

It took precious seconds to remember where he was.

“Come in,” Elliot croaked, once everything came crashing back to him. He wasn’t at Mattia’s anymore. Nikolai—

Nikolai had spirited him away.

“Sorry,” Nikolai said as he eased the door open, as if unsure of his welcome. “You were sleeping? I wanted to—you should be having dinner.”

“‘S okay,” Elliot mumbled, sitting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes. His one eye still hurt to touch, and he winced. Despite the sleep, he was exhausted.

Then he remembered what had been happening before he’d been left alone.

“Is everything… okay?” Elliot asked. He couldn’t voice the question he really wanted to ask.

Is Mattia dead?

Nikolai let out a heavy breath and took a seat on the armchair, facing Elliot. “Vitale, he’s get away. We do not know where.”

“O-oh.” Elliot said. Relief warred with fear and settled on nausea.

“Is no good.” Nikolai said. His usually well groomed hair was fluffed up, as though he’d been running his hands through it. “I am sorry. I’m not thinking you should want to stay here again, but Vitale… he’s unstable. And I’m wanting you safe.”

Safe. Nikolai had said that before too. That he wanted Elliot to be safe, which meant not with Mattia.

“You… want me to stay with you?” Elliot asked.

The thought shouldn’t be easing the nausea and fear.

Nikolai nodded. “It would be safer for you.” And then his expression hardened. “Vitale, he plant rat once, but it will never happen again.”

When Elliot didn’t say anything, Nikolai said in a rush, “It would be different now. You are no prisoner, okay?”

“Okay,” Elliot said. Because what could he say? He did want to feel safe. He so dearly, desperately wanted to feel safe. “I… thank you.”