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Nick had gone to sleep, alone in his and Monroe's big bed, after waiting up for him. Monroe left a note saying that he was going to a conference in downtown and would be home late, but there was something about it that just didn't sit well with him. It wasn't like Monroe to be so quiet, unless he was actively working on a timepiece. And while the clockmaker's conference at the Moda Center had been one of the largest in the Pacific Northwest in a while, there was no reason for Monroe to not even call.
A knock on the door woke him up about 2am. Nick automatically grabbed his gun and held it at his side as he walked down the stairs. "Who is it?" he called.
"Nick, it's Drew," the voice from the other side called. "Can I come in?"
Nick threw the bolt and unlocked the door to find a haggard looking Sergeant on the other side. "What's going on?" he asked as Drew bolted past him.
After a quick glance upstairs, Wu said, "It's Orson, man. He's gone crazy."
"Crazy like what?" Nick asked. "What's he done?"
"Apparently he ran into Monroe downtown. They got into it, and he arrested Monroe. He celled him with a bunch of gang members. I tried to call, but couldn't get through."
It was then that Nick heard the chirp of his phone from the kitchen. But instead of picking it up, he grabbed his jacket and wallet, ignored the fact that he was wearing sleep pants, no shirt, and stuffed his feet into his sneakers without socks. "C'mon," he said, then pulled Drew outside and locked up the house.
~*~*~
Three hours later, Drew pulled the police cruiser up to the house and looked back at Nick, Monroe asleep at his side. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, we will," he said as he squeezed Monroe to him before he reached for the door handle. "But Orson's in for it." By the time they'd gotten to the station, Captain Renard called in as reinforcement, and together, they'd not only bailed Monroe out of jail, but had filed a complaint against Orson. Not that the official records would be used, not with the chief complaint being a centuries old feud between Blutbaden and Bauerschwein, but rather police brutality, with the promise of add-on hate crimes to come later.
Monroe finally stirred, a quiet, "Oww," falling from his lips.
"C'mon, Monroe," Nick said. "Let's get you inside."
He got his partner out of the cruiser and led him slowly toward the door, waving to Drew as they walked into the house. And while their home lighting was dimmer than what was at the police station, it was bright enough for Nick to be able to see the welts, bruises, and dried blood that caked Monroe's skin.
"I just wanna go to bed, Nick," Monroe pleaded as he went to the staircase.
"Shower first," Nick said. He helped Monroe up the stairs, then into the bathroom where he turned on the shower, then stripped Monroe. He stood there, examining each bruise, each cut, running his fingertips over them delicately. But instead of yelling - again - he helped get Monroe under the hot stream of water, then went into the bedroom and got sweats.
"You okay in there?" Nick asked as he grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. When he didn't hear a response, he glanced in and saw Monroe hadn't moved. So instead of asking again, Nick stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the shower, too. He pulled Monroe back so that he could rest against him, and ran the soap over each cut, each bruise, happy that Monroe insisted on buying the more expensive soap that was easier on their skin. After each scrape and cut was washed, Nick kissed it. And once Monroe and he were clean, and the waste water was free from the tinge of blood, he finally cut the shower and got out, and helped Monroe dry himself.
A few minutes after he'd bandaged the worst of the cuts, Nick helped Monroe into his sweats. "You want some burdock to chew?"
"I just wanna go to bed," Monroe repeated. But at least this time he sounded better. So Nick guided him into the bedroom, got him settled under the blankets, and wrapped himself around his partner with the silent promise to try and keep him safe.