Page 39 of Pistols and Plush Toys

In the early morning sunlight, Brooks was haloed by soft light. He was dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt—pajamas that Nikolai had given him two days ago—and they offered no protection. His feet were bare and he was clutching the stuffed giraffe in one hand, keeping it curled up against his side, almost tucked where Nikolai couldn’t see it.

Nikolai’s gaze ran up Brooks’s body until he was looking at Brooks’s face. Brooks stared wide-eyed back at him, muted terror painting his expression as tears began to trail down his cheeks. He made no sound, but his lip was bleeding again.

Because Nikolai had burst into his bedroom while he’d been asleep and dragged him out. Dragged him out in his sleep clothes, with his stuffed animal in tow.

Brooks looked startlingly young then. Not in a way he could be mistaken for a child, but with a fragility that swept throughout his trembling frame. An innocence. He looked so easily harmed in his soft clothes and his bare feet, in the way his shoulders shook as he wetly inhaled, making a tiny, hitched noise before he hastily looked at the ground, tucking the giraffe further behind him.

He was so easily harmed.

Nikolaihadharmed him.

The ballooning anger popped like a bubble. Guilt swelled up in its place.

Brooks was trembling, unable to stop the sobs that were heaving his body, even as he tried to stifle the sounds.

“?????´?,”Nikolai said with feeling. This wasn’t what he wanted. Terrorizing Brooks wasn’t going to solve his problem, and the man didn’t deserve it. In his fury, Nikolai had accused Brooks of being complicit in Vitale’s plans, but that couldn’t be true. Not this quiet, timid man who knew so well how to keep from making noise when he was hurting.

Nikolai had let his anger take the controls, and now Brooks was hurt.

“Brooks,” Nikolai said, at a loss. Blood was starting to drip down Brooks’s leg. Nikolai needed to get that cleaned and dressed, needed to not be out here on the front steps with a sobbing man for any of his employees to see. What would Meredith or Gerard say if they saw him right now?

They’d probably punch him square in the face, and he’d deserve it.

“We will… we will go back inside.”

Carefully, gently, he guided Brooks back into the house. Brooks didn’t fight him, was as gentle as a lamb as he was led to a front bathroom. He was still trembling, tears dripping down his cheeks when Nikolai had him sit down on the ledge beside the bathtub.

The man flinched when Nikolai stepped back, as though he expected more violence.

Was Nikolai any better than Vitale, really? He certainly wasn’t acting like it right now.

He turned and found one of the big first aid kits under the sink. Nikolai rifled through for antiseptic wipes and bandages.

When he returned to Brooks, he knelt to reach the man’s knee. Knelt also because it would help if Nikolai wasn’t looming above him.

Brooks made a caught sound, sinking his teeth back into his abused, bleeding lip, but he didn’t pull away.

“I am sorry,” Nikolai said seriously as he ripped open a packet of wipes. “I… lost my temper. That was unacceptable.”

Brooks sniffled, but didn’t say anything. The hand clutching his stuffed animal was white at the knuckles.

Nikolai focused on wiping the blood and dirt away. The scrape wasn’t too bad, but he hated seeing it, knowing it was his fault.

He went through two wipes before he grabbed the gauze, which would be easiest with the bend of the knee. He wrapped Brooks's knee quickly and efficiently, testing that the wrap wasn’t too tight before taping the end down.

In the silence he could hear the click of Brooks swallowing. “I’m sorry,” Brooks whispered again.

Nikolai sighed, sitting back on his heels. There was a bone deep weariness in him now that the adrenaline and anger were burned up.

“Is not you who should apologize,” Nikolai said heavily. “Is me. I say again, I am sorry.”

There was silence, and then, in a tiny voice, Brooks asked, “Did—did something happen?”

It was only fair to offer an explanation.

“Vitale, he has been retaliating against me this week,” Nikolai started, gauging what to say. He had no idea how much Brooks knew about Vitale, but he had an inkling now that it was very little. He was coming to understand that Brooks was a gentle soul. Someone who wouldn’t be with a man like Vitale if he knew what he was capable of. “This morning there was… an attack. I was angry and I took that out on you. I am sorry. I should never do that. It was wrong.”

When he raised his eyes to look at Brooks, the man was staring down at him. His face was blotchy and his eyes were red, but at least he wasn’t actively crying anymore. Still, Nikolai felt horrible looking at him.

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