Page 75 of Pistols and Plush Toys

As Alex pulled the car out of the lot, leaving the factory behind, Elliot sniffed and wiped at his face, stopping short when he caught sight of his hands.

They were red. Bloodstained.

Elliot heard himself make a thin, horrible sound as he jerked his head up to stare at Nikolai. Because the blood on Elliot’s hands was Nikolai’s. Nikolai was—was covered in blood, his shirt a ruin, the fabric sticky with it.

Elliot had seen Mattia bring down the knife. He knew he’d continue to see it in his nightmares.

“Nikolai, you’re bleeding—” Elliot gasped, lurching forward and reaching for him.

“Is not so bad,” Nikolai said quickly. But even his face was hurt, with dried blood around his nose, swelling around one eye, and a split lip. “Doesn’t look so good maybe,” Nikolai added. “But doesn’t hurt too much.”

“W-we should wrap your arm,” Elliot said, too frantic. There was so much blood. Could someone lose that much blood and be okay? “You’re still bleeding!”

“Doc will stitch me up, I think,” Nikolai said.

“At the house?” Elliot asked, voice quivering.

Nikolai nodded.

Elliot had no idea how far they were from the house. Was Nikolai really just going to let it bleed the whole time? He couldn’t! Cuts needed compression. Elliot had enough kitchen first aid training about knife wounds to know that.

“Can we—can we at least wrap it for the drive back?” He asked desperately. What if Nikolai didn’t realize how bad it was? What if he was dying? “Please! Is there a first aid kit?”

A moment later a case thunked onto the floor in front of them, and Elliot jumped. It was red, with a white plus on the front of it.

A first aid kit.

Elliot nearly wept with relief.

“I drive, you take care of the Boss,” Alex said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror before focusing again on the road.

“Thank you,” Elliot managed, scooping up the kit. He set it on his lap and opened it, so grateful to be able to do something.

“Is not that serious,” Nikolai grumbled, but he didn’t argue any harder as Elliot pulled out a sealed bundle of gauze and ripped it open.

Nikolai’s shirt was in tatters, sliced open in sections, but parts were stuck to his bleeding arm.

Elliot knew that when his arm got treated and stitched up the shirt would need to be completely removed, so for now he just wrapped the gauze over the shirt, pulling tight, to give Nikolai some proper compression.

A temporary measure, until an actual doctor could see him.

His bottom lip trembled as he watched the first layers of gauze immediately soak through with blood. But Nikolai was silent, not so much as flinching as Elliot tightly banded the wounds. Elliot bit down on his lip to stop himself from falling apart and focused on his task.

“Thank you,” Nikolai said softly when he was finished.

Elliot nodded, not trusting himself to speak without sobbing. He stared at his hands instead, his red, red hands, and tried to will the tears from spilling over. He’d already cried so much today, first crying for Mattia and then falling apart in Nikolai’s arms.

Nikolai had been the one fighting for his life, sliced open and almost killed, and Elliot was the one sobbing like a baby in the aftermath.

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes with his forearm to avoid touching his face with his bloody hands.

Fuck. He couldn’t fall apart again. Nikolai was hurt.

He didn’t need to be spending his energy comforting Elliot.

He was hurt and he’d had to kill Mattia so that Mattia didn’t torture and kill him and—

Mattia was dead.

Mattia was dead.

The car stopped. Elliot blearily looked up from his red, shaking hands to see that they’d arrived back at Nikolai’s house and parked inside the gate. He hadn’t even noticed they’d been close.

“Elliot?” Nikolai said gently. “We’re home.”

Elliot hastily unbuckled and opened his door, stumbling to his feet. There were more cars than usual in the drive, and the door to the house was already open. As Nikolai guided him forward, Elliot could make out the sound of people talking.

In the dining room there were two women and a man that Elliot didn’t know, as well as Dr. Williams.

One of the women was in the chair, leaned back with her eyes closed, shoulder heavily wrapped.

On the table in front of her was a metal tray and a variety of surgical equipment, all bloodied.

Dr. Williams was talking to the other woman, who had her hand gently resting on the injured woman’s good shoulder.

As they came in, all eyes turned in their direction.

The doctor's eyes went wide. “Sit,” Dr. Williams demanded, striding around the table to get to Nikolai.

“Polina, how is going?” Nikolai asked, ignoring Dr. Williams to address the woman in the chair.

She answered him in Russian, her eyes fluttering back open, and Nikolai replied in kind.

“I’m going to take her home,” the other woman said in English, before turning to Dr. Williams. “Doc, we clear?”

“Yes. Bed rest, fluids, no lifting, like I said,” Dr. Williams said, now moving to forcefully corral Nikolai into a chair as the other group left. “Sit!”

Nikolai sat, then turned his attention to Elliot. “Elliot, you want to go shower maybe? This will take a while. You’d like to clean up, yes?”

As if Elliot could just leave him. Elliot shuffled closer. “I’d like to stay. Please.”

“He can help,” Dr. Williams said as he picked up a pair of large, blunt tipped shears.

Dr. Williams took the shears to the bandages and the shirt, then peeled away the fabric where it was stuck to Nikolai’s skin.

Once the shirt was out of the way, Elliot could see Nikolai’s left arm had taken the majority of the damage, with two ragged knife gashes across his forearm.

There was also the deep red beginnings of a bruise across his ribcage and abrasions on his arms and hands and face.

“Here,” Dr. Williams said, offering a pack of wipes to Elliot, “Could you wipe down the rest of him while I work on his arm?”

“Y-yeah,” Elliot said quickly. He opened the pack of sterile wipes and moved to the other side of the chair to start on Nikolai’s right arm.

As he started wiping the blood off, he watched Dr. Williams clean around the wounds and then load up a syringe.

“Some lidocaine for the pain,” Dr. Williams said.

Nikolai pressed his lips together when the needle went in, but otherwise didn’t make a sound.

“The cuts don’t look too deep. That’s good,” Dr. Williams said, turning Nikolai’s arm to look it over. “This is the worst injury?”

“Nose is maybe broken,” Nikolai said shortly.

“I’ll check that once I stitch you up,” Dr. Williams said, setting the needle down. Elliot focused on meticulously wiping Nikolai’s hand, arm, chest and face until all the blood was gone. He went through almost the whole pack of wipes as Dr. Williams rinsed the wounds and then started suturing.

He was glad for something to do. A way to keep busy and his mind blank while Nikolai got treated. Elliot refused to break down in front of him again. Nikolai had enough on his plate.

Finally the sutures were finished and Dr. Williams bandaged them up.

“I’m going to tape wrap these in plastic now, since I’m sure he’ll want to shower,” Dr. Williams said, addressing Elliot.

He picked up a sealed packet and tore the top open.

“The stitches need to be protected from the shower for the next two days, but make sure you take off the plastic after, so the wound can breathe.”

“Okay,” Elliot said. There was a pile of the plastic bandage covers on the table, and he watched closely as Dr. William’s started applying one over the bandages.

Dr. Williams went into what Nikolai would need in the coming days, and Elliot committed every detail of it to memory.

Mostly it was food, water, and rest. The doctor checked Nikolai’s rib cage, his face, and his vitals.

There were a few smaller wounds that Dr. Williams said Elliot could bandage after the shower, and he applied strips for Nikolai’s nose to set it, because it was indeed fractured.

Otherwise his condition was stable enough to be left to heal with time.

The relief that Elliot felt was enormous.

“That’s everything I can do for you right now,” Dr. Williams said to Nikolai. “I’ll leave you some painkillers. Take them before the lidocaine wears off, and make sure you eat something,” Then Dr. Willams turned to Elliot. “Alright Elliot, let me take a look at you now.”

Elliot took an unconscious step back. Other than being manhandled, he was completely unharmed. “Oh, n-no, I’m okay.”

Dr. Williams frowned, looking to Nikolai, who shrugged.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Dr. Williams said slowly. “If there are any issues, call me. Day or night. You have my number.”

“I will, thank you,” Elliot said.

“Then I’ll just finish cleaning up here,” Dr. Williams said. “You two get some rest.”

Elliot nodded, already turning to Nikolai, hovering his hands uselessly. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? You should eat.”

Nikolai got slowly to his feet, but he looked much better than when he’d come in. “I’m wanting shower first, I think.”

“I-I can make you something,” Elliot said again. “For when you’re done. Whatever you want. What do you want? I can…” his hands were shaking again, vision blurring. “I-I can…”

He pressed a hand over his mouth to try and keep the sobs in.

Nikolai folded him into an embrace. “Is okay to cry,” Nikolai said softly. “Is okay, Elliot.”

Suddenly Elliot was sobbing, the terror and pain and grief of the last few hours trampling him. It felt like he’d been holding it together for longer than just a morning—for weeks, months, years.

He’d spent years with Mattia.

And now he was dead.