Brian comes home bruised and battered and tries to hide his injuries from Dominic.
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Dominic looked up as the front door slowly creaked open. "You're home early, Brian."
"Yeah, well," Brian closed the door behind him. "We finished early," he passed the chair that he normally used for a coat-hangar and joined Dom on the sofa. "They didn't really need me for the rest of the day so..."
"How's the new partner working out?" Dom asked.
"Yeah." Brian's gaze was focused on the window and the sunny exterior beyond it.
"What kind of answer is that supposed to be?" Dom regretted his tone of voice when he saw Brian's head snap towards him.
"Nothing, I mean, it's just that I have to get used to him I guess."
Dominic wondered if something was wrong, but decided against asking. Brian watched a bit of tv with him before Dom broke his own frustrated silence.
"I'm sick of sitting around here. Let's get out and kill some daylight."
"You missing everyone else?" Brian's eyes pierced to the core of Dom's discomfort. "They're all going to finish their trips and get home soon."
"Come on," said Dom, "I'll show you something you're going to enjoy."
The sky bled into the sea during the waning minutes before sunset. Dominic looked over at Brian's still form. Despite the warm evening, he had not removed the jacket that he'd worn to the police station. His head now rested on a sleeved arm, curls glinting like lumps of pyrite among the grasses.
"Brian, wake up." From his rocky seat on the hillside, Dominic used his foot to nudge Brian's leg. The blond man jerked out of his doze and immediately clutched his knee. "Did I hurt you?" Dom asked.
"No. I banged my knee on a desk."
"We don't have a desk anymore."
"Oh, I meant at work."
Dom wasn't sure exactly why he felt unconvinced. He also wondered why his friend was so tired after leaving work early, but decided against an interrogation. This location held good memories for him and he hoped to share some of them with Brian O'Connor.
"I used to come up here to get away... and sometimes just to get off." They both laughed a little.
"It's beautiful here." Brian said after a moment. "Everyone should have a place where they can leave the world behind." In spite of his complementary words, Brian's face became stormy.
Dom admired the horizon and imagined the rest of his family flying home safely.
Brian winced in pain as the two rose to leave. It did not escape Dom's notice. Brian shifted his eyes downward to avoid his questioning gaze. Something seemed to grow within Dominic's abdomen. A feeling of mingled fear and anger fluttered in his chest. He said, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
Brian nodded in his direction.
When they returned home, Brian's awkward exit from the passenger door prompted Dom to joke, "You need me to carry you inside, Princess?"
Brian leaned one arm against the black Vette and forced a smile onto his lips, but did not reply. Dominic lifted both of their grease-spotted take-out bags. He stepped closer to the front door then paused when he heard labored breathing. He turned to see Brian supporting half of his body against the car.
"You okay?" Dom asked, "What's wrong?"
Brian blinked rapidly then traced his eyes back and forth as though searching the darkness. "My head hurts," he admitted. "I think I'll just go to bed early." He followed Dom inside the house. Dom suppressed his protective desire to help Brian up the stairs.
Dom sat in front of the television to avoid dining in silence. His gaze stubbornly returned to the stairwell. He wanted to ask; wanted to pull answers from his friend, but he valued his roommate's privacy. Brian might not want to seem like a wimp and Dominic did not want to fuss over him like the Buster's mom.
Brian twisted in his sweat-dampened sheets. His head seemed to engulf his entire being in a steady throb of misery. Giving up his tenuous grasp on sleep, Brian lurched into the bathroom. The bright lights stung his eyes. He flipped them off. The darkness would also prevent him from having to see his face. He had no visible injuries, but Brian knew that his eyes were red and his face was lined with stress and exhaustion. As moonlight leaked through a window, he sank onto the porcelain seat, lowered his elbows onto his knees, and finally allowed a few pained moans and gasps to escape his mouth. The sound of his breathing deafened him to the heavy footsteps that approached the threshold of the bathroom. He did not realize that he was no longer alone until a large hand landed on the back of his head.
Brian jerked his shoulders away and tensed his back against the pain. "Jeez, Dom."
Dominic said nothing, but returned his hand to the nest of golden curls. "Where did you get this bruise?"
Brian panted heavily as he fought against his sickness while thinking of a cover story. He disgusted himself. Lying to his brother, being a wimp. He didn't want to tell Dominic another lie; he couldn't stomach admitting the truth.
Dominic gently moved his hand from Brian's head, down his neck, then rested it on his back between the shoulder blades. The rapid rise and fall of friend's back underneath his fingers told him that his instincts had been right. Something was seriously wrong with Brian. Keeping his hand firmly on Brian's back, Dom knelt beside the toilet and waited for an answer.
Brian turned his head toward the wall. Anything he said would be shameful.
Dom reached his free hand toward Brian and tried to place a comforting weight upon his knee. Brian immediately tensed. Dominic realized that the knee beneath his hand was lumpy and misshapen. He gritted his teeth together to prevent from cursing. He sensed that this silence between them was important and that he should not break it in that way. Brian's hand fluttered over Dom's then it dabbed at the shadowy form of Brian's face for a moment, as though wiping something away.
"Earlier, you asked about my partner." Brian said in a small voice. "It's not working out; it's not working out at all."
Dominic stepped away from Brian and clicked on the bathroom light.
Brian's pajamas were unfamiliar. He never slept in long sleeves. On a hunch, Dom lifted the back of the shirt. A long oval shaped bruise stretched across Brian's lower back. The outer edges resembled thick purple lips which surrounded an angry pinkish-red interior. The mark was linear and distinct. It looked like the stroke of something like a baseball bat or heavy flashlight or police baton.
Dominic pushed the shirt further up and found dark spotting covered one side of Brian's ribcage. Brian complied silently as Dominic removed the pajama top and exposed a variety of wounds. Their eyes met each other for a long moment before Brian looked away in shame. "Who did this to you?" Dom's voice was not a growl nor even its usual purr. He demanded a name in a dangerous whisper.
After Brian continued his silence, Dom pulled a first aid kit from under the sink. As he gently wiped the scratches clean, he plotted. While Brian winced under Dom's probing hands, Dominic seethed. He had to press firmly on Brian's bruised ribs to check for any obvious fractures. The warm chest moved steadily under his touch with each breath, wounded but structurally intact.
Dominic wrapped his hands around Brian's upper arms and pulled him into a standing position.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't," He winced through a gasping breath. "I didn't want you to be angry with me."
"I'm not mad at you, Brian." Dom lied. "Let's get you back to your room. You'll be more comfortable in bed." Dom said in a purposefully milder tone. Brian swayed on wobbly knees until Dom gently supported him. Brian's condition upset him to the point that he was surprised his hands did not quake with rage as he poured his friend into bed and folded the covers over him.
Dom pressed a warm hand onto Brian's shoulder and waited. Brian finally spoke the name, "Garret Nelson."
And Dominic, who now had business to attend to, said at last, "Good night, Brian."
The End
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