Nick wasn't exactly a big guy. He knew getting Monroe inside wasn't going to be easy, not when he was unconscious and injured and unable to help in any way. He wasn't even sure he should move him at all, not when he didn't know where he was hurt. Nick knew that Monroe had taken several powerful blows to the head; he'd been forced to witness them himself.
But above all, he knew that he couldn't simply leave him out here, injured and vulnerable and possibly dying, while he waited for an ambulance to arrive.
He wasn't even sure if calling an ambulance was an option. Some Wesen DNA was different from human DNA, wasn't it? So what if taking Monroe to a hospital, where he'd be subject to various tests and scans – and who knew what those tests might find? – would be placing him in even greater danger? Nick was still too new at this, didn't know enough to make a call on that yet. He'd have to wait for Monroe to wake up and tell him what he wanted Nick to do.
But in the meantime, Nick had to get him inside, where he'd be safe.
Thankfully, just as Nick wrapped an arm around Monroe, under his shoulders, Monroe began to stir to consciousness, letting out a low groan of pained protest at the motion.
"Shh, it's okay," Nick whispered, not sure yet if they were really alone, or who might be watching, or waiting to try something else. "Monroe, it's okay… we've just… gotta get you… inside…"
As Nick tried to get to his feet, hefting Monroe's weight up with him, the woge rippled across his face, and he let out a snarl – but it was a weak, desperate sound, something like the falsely fierce hiss of a kitten with its back against the wall, frantic with fear while attempting to appear as a threat. And wasn't that a tragically ironic comparison that just about made Nick want to cry.
But you don't get to cry, not yet anyway… he's the one that's hurt, gotta get him safe, gotta focus on taking care of him…
"Easy, Monroe," Nick said softly, struggling over the threshold of his house at an awkward, agonizingly slow limp. "Easy, it's just me… I'm so sorry, not trying to hurt you, just gotta get you… where it's… safe…"
Finally, they reached the sofa, and Nick laid Monroe down, kneeling down as he did and taking a moment to catch his breath, taking in the bruised, bleeding spot at Monroe's temple, from the blow that had left him unconscious. Monroe shifted on the sofa, a low groan escaping his lips, his hands fumbling at the upholstery, then gripping it as if trying to push himself up.
"No, no," Nick soothed him, alarmed at how easy it was for him to push Monroe back down with just a single hand on his shoulder. "Easy, don't try to get up, okay? Just rest… just… let me see where you're hurt, okay?"
Monroe seemed to settle momentarily at the sound of Nick's voice, but when Nick reached for his shirt to unbutton it and check for more injuries, Monroe jerked away from him, struggling frantically to push him away.
"No," he protested, his voice weak and shaking. "No, no, don't…"
"Shhh, shhh, I'm not going to hurt you, it's just me, easy, Monroe," Nick said softly, giving up his pursuit and trying a different tactic, instead helping Monroe to sit up a little with one arm behind his back, and trying to gain his focus with a gentle hand on his face. "Monroe, come on, it's just me, it's Nick… easy…"
Monroe opened his eyes, blinking and cringing a little from the light, disoriented. Finally, his fearful, confused eyes met Nick's, and he froze, staring up at him for a moment in disbelief.
"N-nick?"
"Yeah," Nick whispered, nodding, leaning in to press a soft, gentle kiss at the corner of Monroe's bruised, trembling mouth, then lingering close, one hand running slowly, soothingly, through the hair at the back of Monroe's head. "It's okay. You're safe now. It's okay, you're here with me and you're safe…"
As realization dawned in Monroe's eyes, his shoulders began to shake, and he closed his eyes, reaching out blindly to clutch at Nick's shirt and pull him closer. Nick's arms rose automatically to take him in as Monroe lowered his head to rest on Nick's shoulder.
"Nick," he whispered, his voice a broken sob. "I thought… Nick, I thought…"
Nick's voice was thick with the tears he tried to blink away, and he nodded. "I know," he whispered. "I know, me – me, too. But you're okay. You're safe. You're okay."
When Monroe finally seemed calmer, Nick carefully withdrew, ducking his head to try to meet his gaze. "What did they do to you?" he asked softly. "Where are you hurt?"
"I-I'm okay," Monroe insisted. "Took a – a couple of knocks to the noggin, but… other than that, I – I'm okay."
But he wouldn't make eye contact, and Nick was less than convinced. He reached out to touch Monroe's jaw, tilting his head up a little until the blutbad reluctantly met his gaze.
"I need to be sure," Nick said softly. "Please, just… humor me. Okay?"
Monroe rolled his eyes, but the gesture lacked its usual snark, and he hesitantly complied, reaching down to unbutton his shirt. But his hands were trembling too badly, and after a few moments, Nick reached out to gently pull them away, and then took over. Monroe was quiet as Nick pushed his shirt back over his shoulders, then lifted his undershirt for a closer inspection. Monroe's back, chest, and stomach were covered in bruises, but there didn't appear to be any other injuries.
"I'm not taking my pants off, no matter how nicely you ask, but… if I did you'd just see more of the same." Monroe tried for humor, but it came off weak and nervous, fading into a pained grimace. "They… they knocked me around quite a bit, but… but nothing else," he explained, his voice unusually subdued and self-conscious. "You know, besides… besides the… pretending they were gonna blow my brains out."
Nick flinched, wanted to protest, but the haunted look in Monroe's eyes as he looked away, one arm sliding down to wrap around his torso anxiously, silenced him. If Monroe could talk bluntly about this, who was Nick to tell him that he shouldn't? Who was Nick to tell him how to deal with any of this?
"It's okay," he said at last, not sure what else to say. "You're safe, and… and I'm going to find those guys. I'm going to track them down and…" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to keep his voice under control. "… and end them."
The sharp look of alarm Monroe gave him told Nick that he'd failed a bit in the area of control. He took a deep breath, steadying himself a little before focusing on Monroe.
"What were they? What did you notice about them? Do you know where they were keeping you?"
"They're called… totschlageren. Which is… less about what they are, and more about what they do. It's one of the… less specific Wesen monikers. They're sort of like… I guess the closest thing might be… a panther? Really, I – I'm lucky to have gotten away with just – just a beating. I mean, they're – vicious… feline style hunters and… and killers who like to… to, uh… play with… their prey, and… and… u-usually they…"
"Easy," Nick murmured, stopping Monroe with both hands gently steadying on his forearms, just as his control started to slip away from him. "Shh, it's all right. I shouldn't have asked. Not yet. It's just… I want to make sure you're safe."
Monroe nodded. "Yeah. I… I'm sorry, I – don't know where we were, but… it was by water. I know that, because… I could smell it. But I didn't see anything. They kept a – kept something over my head until we got there, and… and it was this… dark, empty room, and… I was a little… distracted, you know? I-I'm sorry…"
Nick didn't say anything else, just ran a soothing hand through Monroe's hair, staying close and quiet until he'd calmed down again.
"I… I don't want you to go," Monroe confessed at last, his trembling hands clenching in the soft fabric of Nick's shirt. "Normally I'd say I can take care of myself, but… obviously…" He gave Nick a rueful grimace, looking away in embarrassment. "If they… if they came here while you were gone, or… or if you do find them, and..." He looked up at Nick again, his dark eyes troubled. "These are some bad dudes, Nick. I'm not sure… you know, if you're by yourself, taking them on…"
"I won't go, not yet," Nick assured him, though he knew Monroe was smart enough to pick up on the fact that it was hardly a promise. "I just… I want you to get some rest, okay? Do you have something in your kitchen? Something that might help you rest?"
"There's… a canister of tea beside the stove. If you know how to make it…"
"I've made tea before, Monroe," Nick pointed out teasingly. "I'll get it started. You just stay here and rest, okay? I'll be right back."
Monroe nodded, resting his head on the back of the sofa and closing his eyes as Nick rose and made his way into the kitchen, his pace calm and measured. He closed the kitchen door behind him and went to the counter beside the stove, taking up the canister in question and placing his hand on the lid to open it. Then he stopped, closing his eyes, trying to think about the simple process of making the tea, and not the layers of bruises all over Monroe's body, the sheer terror on Monroe's face in that terrible video, and how desperately Monroe was trying to act is if he was all right, as if everything was okay now.
Nick set the canister down with a loud clatter, slamming his palm against the counter and cursing under his breath as tears of fury and frustration flowed from his eyes. He'd tried so hard to keep it together for Monroe's sake, to be the calm, steady one so that Monroe could safely fall apart – but all he could see when he closed his eyes was the monsters who'd tormented and terrorized the person who meant the most to him in the entire world – and the vicious, bloodthirsty things he wanted to do – would do – to them in return.
But first… first, I need to be here for Monroe, and that means… helping him feel safe and secure enough to rest, to sleep… and then once he's asleep… then, I can go…
I can go and kill them all.
With that goal in mind, Nick took a slow, steadying breath, then reached for the canister again. The sooner the tea was made, the sooner Monroe could fall asleep – and the sooner Nick could make sure the monsters that had hurt him never touched him again.
