Page 35 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Vitale was gone.

Not only into hiding, but out of the fucking country. He’d been spotted at a private airfield, and tracking said the plane had gone to Italy.

Because that was Nikolai's luck.

Nikolai growled, flicking through his texts and emails.

Gerard had been patched up and had then stubbornly made rounds at their stores to assure everyone that everything was okay.

His last update had been over an hour ago, telling Nikolai he was going to go to bed, and not to wake him unless all hell had broken loose.

Even if it did, Nikolai wasn’t going to wake Gerard. He’d done more than enough, and Nikolai could pull some of the weight now. He’d slept like the dead, and was ready to handle whatever the day held.

First priority was to go over his people . Comb through any recent hires to make sure there were no more rats.

Several emails in, he got a text from Meredith.

Meredith: Not sure how serious you were about that 2AM request, but I have someone out running it now. It’ll be delivered with a fresh phone in an hour.

Meredith: What’re you doing for breakfast?

Nikolai: Very serious. Also, would you take Elliot shopping? He needs things.

Nikolai: I haven’t decided on breakfast.

Meredith: Is he staying at your house?

Nikolai: This is most secure place for him.

Meredith: You hate sharing your space.

Meredith: Half the time you’re kicking me out.

Nikolai: Vitale hurt him.

Nikolai didn’t want to speak on Elliot’s condition, but Meredith read between the lines anyway.

Meredith: Does he need a doctor?

Nikolai: I will let you know.

He thought about it, then added in a new text.

Nikolai: order many pastries.

Meredith: Done. Let me know if you need anything else.

Nikolai didn’t bother responding to that. Instead, he pushed away from his desk and went to get cleaned up.

In the hour it took to get the delivery, Nikolai showered, shaved, and got dressed. His body was creaky as he padded to the front of the house. It had been a minute since he’d made time to use his gym, and he could feel it in his back.

It had been a minute since he’d made it to the shooting range too. He didn’t think he was rusty, but then again, he also considered himself in good physical shape.

Hm.

Pyotr met him at the front door with food and two additional bags.

“Thank you,” Nikolai said as he took the bags off of Pyotr.

“That is what you pay me for, Boss.”

“You okay? Need anything?” Nikolai asked, looking over the large bandage on Pyotr’s forehead.

Pyotr shook his head. “I’m good. Just a couple of stitches.”

Nikolai nodded. “When this whole thing with Vitale is fucking finished, I’m taking us on a vacation.”

Pyotr snorted, but he looked pleased. “Somewhere warm?”

“Somewhere warm,” Nikolai confirmed, before giving Pyotr another nod and stepping back inside the house. Pyotr turned and headed back toward the front gate where he was stationed today.

Yeah , Nikolai thought as he took the bags to the kitchen, after all of this was done, he needed a vacation. Somewhere sunny and warm with drinks so sweet Meredith would frown at him. Did Elliot like the beach?

He’d have to ask.

***

Nikolai left their breakfast on the kitchen table and took the other two bags to Elliot’s room. It was after eight, and he knew that Elliot was usually up by now.

He knocked gently on the door and got permission to enter.

Elliot was still in bed, still in his pajamas, hair mussed from sleep. Apricot was beside him, tucked into the blankets. He looked soft, cozy.

The only thing that threw off the picture was the lurid purple around his eye and the terrible bruising that formed a ring around his throat.

Nikolai bit down the rage at seeing it, and the desire to wring Vitale’s fucking neck. To make Vitale intimately understand how being choked felt.

“Good morning,” Nikolai said, trying to sound mild as he walked over to the dresser. He put both bags down there. “I’m bring you new phone. Breakfast is waiting too, but first—” he took a breath. “First I’m want to know how you’re hurt.”

Then he had to watch Elliot shrink into himself, hands clutching at his covers.

“You don’t have to show me,” Nikolai rushed to say. “But I’m would like my doctor to see you.”

“Now?” Elliot asked, voice wavering.

“Later,” Nikolai said. “After breakfast?”

Elliot looked away, ruddy color blooming across his cheeks. “I–I don’t know.”

Nikolai shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was a difficult subject, and one Elliot shouldn’t have to talk to Nikolai—a near stranger—about, but Nikolai was the one here now.

Nikolai was the one in charge of taking care of him.

“Vitale hurt you.” Statement, not question. “And I’m just thinking, maybe doctor—”

“I’m fine.” Elliot cut in. He curled his arms around himself defensively. “It’s—it’s just some bruising.”

Except the quivering that started in his body told Nikolai what he needed to know. There was more than what he could see. The way Elliot was huddled up, looking small and fragile and too fucking thin, made Nikolai sick and angry at the implication.

He tamped down on the anger, shoving it aside to be dealt with later. When Elliot wouldn’t catch any residual brunt.

Instead, he turned back to the dresser, reaching for the bag that did not contain a phone.

The gift was a risk perhaps, but it was worth a try. Elliot had been subjected to something horrible, and Nikolai didn’t want this conversation to be another horrible thing he had to get through. He wanted to do his best to lessen Elliot’s trauma, not add to it.

So Nikolai reached into the bag and pulled out the soft plush toy from underneath its tissue paper wrapping. Elliot’s gaze zeroed in on what he had in his hands as Nikolai stepped closer to the bed where he was seated.

“I’m thinking since Max is being fixed up,” Nikolai said, holding out the stuffed animal. A white sheep, with a squishy-soft body. “You do not have to tell me where you are hurt, but maybe you would tell овца?”

Elliot’s eyes widened, darting from Nikolai to the sheep in his hands. “Ovsta?” He tried to replicate the word.

“Sheep,” Nikolai said. He held out the toy. “Is for you. He wants to help.”

There was a tense moment where Elliot looked from the plush in Nikolai's hand, up to Nikolai, and back down. Where he seemed to be weighing if this helped or harmed.

Nikolai desperately hoped it was the former.

Then, miraculously, Elliot’s hands loosened their grip on the comforter. Instead, he reached for the bottom hem of his sleep shirt, and started to pull it up.

Oh.

“You’re not having to show me—” Nikolai rushed to say again, as Elliot bared his skin. He didn’t want Elliot to think he’d demanded such a thing, that he should bare his hurts to Nikolai, not just to a doctor who could actually do him some good.

Elliot licked his lips nervously and his gaze darted first to Sheep, then up to Nikolai’s face before skittering away. “It’s—it’s just this,” he said, voice quivering. “See? So I’m… I’m okay.”

Just this was a large, deep purple bruising that ran up Elliot’s whole right side. It was an impact bruise, like what a shoe would do to a person’s side if that person was curled up on the floor.

Nikolai had seen it on his own body enough to know.

It was a different kind of horror to see it on Elliot. Someone who wasn’t roughened by years of violence. Someone who hadn’t even opted into the kind of lifestyle that Nikolai had been raised in.

Before he even thought about it, his hand was moving, bringing the nose of the sheep to Elliot's skin, the soft fur barely touching.

“овца is sorry,” he said quietly. “That you were hurt.”

He didn’t know why he said it, but it felt right. Like having this little stuffed animal between them was a way to prove to Elliot that Nikolai wasn’t going to be another person to abuse him. That he’d be gentle, as gentle as the soft, plushy sheep.

Elliot’s eyes welled with tears, and he squeezed them shut. But he didn’t move away, didn’t pull his shirt back down. Carefully, so carefully, Nikolai traced down his bruised side with the nose of the sheep, touching almost like a caress.

The moment spun out on gossamer threads.

Nikolai didn’t know what he was doing, but Elliot didn’t shrink away from him.

Tears spilled from the corner of Elliot’s eyes, but somehow Nikolai didn’t think they were painful tears.

He could see it in the way Elliot’s breathing evened out, the trembling easing off.

Nikolai watched those shoulders drop slowly, as if releasing tension.

Like Elliot was starting to believe he was safe.

Then Nikolai's higher brain reminded him that he did have something medicinal for bruising.

“Hold on, овца has idea,” he said and then turned and quickly and strode from the room. It took only a moment to pop into his own bathroom and find the numbing cream and painkillers in a drawer.

He came back with the sheep, hoping that the spell wouldn’t be broken. That Elliot hadn’t tucked himself back up behind walls.

And he hadn’t. He was still sitting there, eyes glossy as he watched Nikolai come back to the bed. Nikolai perched himself on the side just next to Elliot’s knees. He opened the bottle of painkillers first, offering three to Elliot and then reaching over to take the water off his bedside table.

Dutifully, Elliot swallowed down all three pills with water. Nikolai set the painkillers aside and then picked up the tube of arnica cream.

“Would you take off your shirt so овца can help you?” Sheep was still in his hand, and he offered it, touching gently to Elliot’s hand, brushing the fur back across his knuckles.

Elliot took a big breath, and then nodded. His hands were clumsy as he pulled up the hem of his shirt again, but he didn’t seem afraid. Uncertain maybe, but not afraid.