TITLE: The Naming of Things 3/4
AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer
RATING: PG13 for some bad language.
CATEGORY: Slash
PAIRING: Nate/Eliot
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.
SUMMARY: The Tenth in the Unnamed series. With Blackpoole taken down Nate is free to build a new life for himself, but first, he has to completely shed his old one. Change is both wonderful and painful.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Takes place after The Second David Job and bridges the gap to The Beantown Bailout Job. Contains spoilers. Note that this series follows the order of episodes on the season 1 DVD’s instead of actual broadcast order.
AUTHOR’S NOTE 2: This part of the story is a little short. Sorry, I do apologize. The good news is, finals are over!
James Rhimer pulled the stethoscope from his ears and undid the blood pressure cuff, watching as the man on the bed in front of him jerked at the sound of the Velcro letting loose. He flicked his eyes to Eliot standing at the head of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, before glancing back at his patient. “Mr. Ford, have you ever had problems with your blood pressure?”
Nathan licked his bottom lip, feeling the dry, flaking, skin under his tongue before shaking his head. He hated this! Everything felt off. It wasn’t just the physical symptoms, which had lessened with the medication, but a feeling like the world had shifted fifteen degrees to the left. He looked to Eliot for reassurance and relaxed a little as his lover nodded at him.
Rhimer eyed him critically and started palpitating his patient’s stomach, eyebrows rising as Nathan flinched, a soft moan escaping his lips. “That hurt?” He watched Nathan nod his head and stopped probing his stomach. “Have the hallucinations stopped or are you still hearing and seeing things?”
Nathan started to bring his right hand up to his face but stopped, a growl of annoyance escaping him as it pulled at the IV line in his hand. He dropped his hand back to the bed and shook his head. “I haven’t. Not in a while.”
Rhimer nodded his head and finished packing away his stuff. “How about your skin? Still feel like you’ve got bugs crawling under there?”
Nathan licked his lips and shook his head again. “I’m thirsty.”
Eliot grabbed the plastic glass with water in it and helped Nathan sit up so he could take a sip of the cool liquid.
Dr. Rhimer watched them a moment before nodding. “Okay, I think we’ve got you on a good combination of drugs now.” He looked up at Eliot, eyes serious. “Can I talk to you out in the sitting room?”
Eliot looked like he wanted to protest, but finally nodded, hand coming to rest on the top of Nathan’s head for a moment. “Just rest for a while, Nate. I’m going to go talk to James while I heat up your soup.”
Nathan grimaced at the thought of food, wondering if he could even make his throat work enough to swallow anything thicker than water at the moment. Letting out a huff of annoyance, his eyes flashed as he pushed himself farther up in the bed. “You don’t have to leave the room to talk. I’m an adult, damn it! You don’t have to make me feel like I’m twelve.”
Eliot stopped just inside the door, turning back a moment to watch Nathan fidget in the bed. “No one’s treating you like you’re twelve, Nate. We’re just trying to do the best thing for you right now. I’ll be back in a minute with your soup.”
“I’m not hungry!”
Eliot ignored him, knowing that he was feeling better if he was complaining. It was good to see him getting some of his spark back. If what he’d read about withdrawal was true though, it probably wouldn’t last. Nate was likely to have mood swings for months. He closed the door behind him, taking a moment to tuck his hair behind his ear. He watched as the older man stopped in front of a piece of uninspired hotel art, eyes trailing over the muted tones of red and yellow.
James Rhimer was a large man, bordering on six five and barrel-chested. His short military haircut was graying in a dignified salt and pepper pattern, but the lines on his face were soft, hiding his age. In the service, he’d had a reputation for being a hard ass, but fair. He was generally outspoken, not caring whose feathers he ruffled. It was the only reason he hadn’t made it past the rank of Major. He didn’t do politics.
Now he appeared as if the years had been afraid to touch him. Thirteen years Eliot had been out of the service and the man looked the same. Eliot wouldn’t be surprised if the man himself had stared down father time and dared him to take a step closer.
Eliot let the silence draw out between them for a good ten minutes before finally giving in. It was just the old army mule’s way to make him speak when he’d been the one to request a talk. “James? How is he?”
James turned from the painting, eyeing the man before him. “He should be in a hospital, Spencer.” He shook his head and rubbed his hand over his buzz cut, a holdover from his days in the service. He narrowed his eyes and put his hands behind his back, assessing the man in front of him.
Eliot Spencer looked like the world had been less kind to him than most. It wasn’t that he’d aged so much as it was the tension coiled in his body and the wary lines of his face. He wasn’t really all that different from when he’d first seen him. His hair was longer and he may have smiled a little easier, but you could see the anger that still ate at him. Whatever it was that had set the man in front of him down this path was still burning bright inside him. Here was hoping that it didn’t consume him completely one day.
James gave the young man in front of him his best steely eyes. “What kind of trouble are you in, Spencer?”
Eliot shook his head, grin quirking his lips at the other man’s automatic assumption. “I’m not in trouble, Sir.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You think I don’t know you better than that? Come on, it’s been what, thirteen years since I last saw you? You wouldn’t be calling me if this was something you could let the civilians handle.” He stopped and walked closer to the younger man, eyes searching for the lie. “How long have you guys been together? Does he do the same kind of stuff you do?”
Eliot rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at being called on the carpet. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to get anything by James. He sat down on the sofa and looked up at his old friend. “He’s a good man, James. He’s just had a tough time lately. But he’s getting it under control.”
James looked down at the younger man, gratified to see that he could still intimidate the troubled man before him. He wasn’t completely oblivious to what it was that his young friend did. He’d hoped he’d get over whatever had been eating him up inside and finally settle down, start a family. He could see now that it’d been a fool’s hope. “You never answered my question. How much trouble are you in?”
Eliot shook his head. “It’s not like that. Not really. I tried to convince him to go to a program, but he’s stubborn, and he’s had a bad experience with rehab. How is he doing, James? Is this something you can handle?”
James sighed and walked over to the small bar area, looking around for something to drink before giving up and coming back to sit on the arm of the couch. He turned to face the other man. “It’s not delirium tremens. His blood pressure isn’t high enough for that and he’s not really confused. It’s alcohol hallucinosis, at least for now. That’s the good news.”
Eliot frowned and sat forward, brows pulling low over his eyes. “What’s the bad news?”
“There are a couple complications we need to be on the lookout for. First, there is a chance the hallucinations won’t go away. It’s rare, but it does happen sometimes. Second, this could simply be a precursor to the DT’s. His stomach is pretty messed up as well. I’m thinking he’s got gastritis. How long has it been since he’s been able to keep anything down?”
Eliot paled, stomach knotting up, the news hitting him like a solid blow to the solar plexus. “Not go away? You mean Nate could be . . .” He trailed off and ran his hands through his hair, tugging gently at the tangles on the ends. “You mean he might lose touch with reality permanently?” He stood and paced to the window, arm clenched around his midsection at the phantom pain. He couldn’t imagine his Nathan permanently damaged in that manner. Nathan, who was always planning, always full of mischief; his brilliant mind dimmed by the heavy pall of antipsychotic medication.
James brushed at a piece of lint on his black slacks, tapping his boat shoe against the side of the couch as he watched Eliot try to digest the news. “It’s rare and he’s responding well the Valproate. Right now, I’m more worried about his stomach than anything else.”
Eliot remembered his promise to bring Nathan his soup and went to the fridge, pulling out Nathan’s soup and popping it in the microwave. He had to force the fear that tried to paralyze him down. Falling apart never did anyone any good. “He’s been having trouble eating for a long time. It’s worse at times than others.”
James nodded and approached the door, grabbing one of his bags and rooting through it. He came up with some pills and tossed them to Eliot. “Make sure he takes one of those before he eats.” He stopped and looked around. “Where do you want me for the night?”
Eliot nodded across the sitting room, opposite from his and Nathan’s room. “Take the second bedroom.”
James looked him up and down a moment, eyes raking the young man before snorting and shaking his head. He grabbed up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. “You’re breaking a lot of girls’ goddamn hearts. You know that?” He shook his head again. “I’m going to wash up and relax a little. You remember how to check a blood pressure?”
Eliot nodded and caught the cuff James threw at him.
“Check it again in a couple hours. Come get me if there are any problems.”
* * *
Eliot pulled Nate tighter against his chest, trying to still his lover’s desperate shaking. He used his other hand to brush back his sweaty curls. Closing his eyes he rubbed his chin against Nathan’s shoulder, soothing himself as well as the other man.
Nate had managed to get a third of the bowl of soup down, but he’d lost it again a short time later. Eliot glanced up at where the new IV bag hung. They’d switched it out and added some nutrients to keep Nate from growing too weak. “Take some deep breaths for me, Nate.”
Nathan squeezed his eyes tighter as the wave of panic crested before easing back down. It was the first bad one since Eliot had started him on the medication. He licked his lips and swallowed, breathing a little easier as the terror and surety that something was wrong faded. “Talk to me, Eliot. I need something else to think about other than my body trying to turn itself inside out. How do you know your buddy out there?”
Eliot’s hand stuttered a little in its motion through Nathan’s hair before he started back up. “James was a doctor in the service when I was stationed in Quy Nhon. He uh, helped me out.”
Nathan opened his eyes at the feeling of tension cascading through Eliot’s muscles and looked up at him. “What happened?”
Eliot looked down at Nate and tried to laugh it off. “Come on. You don’t want to hear this stuff.”
Nathan grabbed Eliot’s hand, squeezing. “Please, Eliot. I hardly know anything about you. I want to know. I need to know. Tell me about Eliot Spencer.”
Eliot looked down at Nate’s face, lines of misery creasing his forehead. His eyes so blue they were like drowning pools. It wasn’t a big thing, not something that might scare the other man off. At least he didn’t think so. But it was still painful. He felt Nathan squeeze his hand and wondered just how the tables had gotten turned on him.
He sighed and settled down into the bed next to Nathan. He lay on his side and pushed his body so it was cradled next to Nathan’s hips while looking down at his face. “I was in my fifth year in the armed services. As I said I was in Vietnam. We’d been through a lot and had just come into Vietnam on some intel of suspicious activity we thought might be tied to a cell. We were tired and things had been very hard on my unit for the last couple of months.”
He trailed off and bit his lip. He smiled a little bit, but it wasn’t happy. “A month earlier a new guy joined the unit. Victor was a real trouble maker and he hadn’t been able to find a good solid place among us. We were a pretty tight knit group. The things we did, we had to be.” He sighed, eyes trailing away from Nathan as the next part played out in his mind.
“We were in a small village, not far from the sea. It was late and most people were down for the night. I’d been having some trouble sleeping so I was sitting just outside, listening to the sound of the waves on the shore.” He trailed off, swallowing thickly as the sound of waves broke across his mind. He shook himself gently, trying not to lose himself too far down in the memories.
Nathan squeezed his hand, torn between telling Eliot he didn’t have to say anymore, and a burning curiosity about the man who had changed his life.
Eliot took a deep breath and shook his head a little again, firmly rooting himself in the present. “I heard a scream, a girl, she sounded terrified. Across the street there was a . . . a building . . . that the village used to store foodstuffs. I ran behind it and found Victor . . .” He trailed off, lip curling in disgust and body thrumming with anger. “He was raping a girl, a child. She couldn’t have been more than twelve.”
Nathan let his eyes slip closed, disgusted, but not really surprised about what he was hearing. He popped them back open when Eliot continued on, desperate to let Eliot know he wasn’t alone.
“I just . . .” He laughed, a bitter and cruel sound that yanked on Nate’s guts. “I lost it. I pounded on Victor until there wasn’t much left. The scream, or maybe the sounds of the fight, I don’t know, but it woke a couple of the other guys. They found me tearing Victor apart and tried to stop me.” He looked down at Nathan, face closed off, eyes shuttered behind heavy lids. “Next thing I know I’m waking up in the hospital.”
Silence fell between them, thin as a gossamer web, like the smallest exhalation would break it apart into a million brittle pieces.
Nathan stared up at his lover, seeing the faint lines around his eyes and mouth in a different light. He knew that Eliot was a hard man, a dangerous man. And he’d often wondered what had happened to make him that way. But he’d never really thought of the horrible stuff he must’ve seen and experienced in his exploits. It was one thing to think about something on an intellectual level, and something totally different to hear it in a loved one’s voice. “What happened, Eliot?”
Eliot’s eyes flicked down to the man next to him, awareness pooling back into his warm eyes. “They, uh, tried to stop me, but I turned on them, too far gone to realize what was happening or who they were. They were good, but I was better. Garret ended up shooting me to keep me from killing them.”
He stared down at Nathan, pain clear in his eyes before he could pull the mask firmly back in place. “I spent some time there under James’ care. We’ve kept in touch since then.”
Nathan searched Eliot’s face before licking his lips and clearing his throat. “How did you not end up in trouble over that? How did you avoid a court martial?”
Eliot looked away, a blush rising to his cheeks. “James helped a little. They, uh, thought I’d snapped under the pressure of combat. They thought I was crazy.”
“Damn right I helped. If it hadn’t been for me your butt would’ve been in a camo green sling, Spencer. You’d have never gotten out the hospital. You’d still be sitting in a wetbrain ward waiting for the disability check to come every month.”
Eliot turned and glared at James, voice dropping to a growl. “I wasn’t crazy, James.”
James just quirked his brow as he stared down at the younger man. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” He turned and settled his eyes on Nathan. “I wanted to check up on lover boy here. How are you feeling?”
Nate’s brows drew low over his eyes and he opened his mouth, but Eliot put a hand on his chest and spoke first. “He had a bit of a panic attack a while ago. I was about to give him another dose of valium.”
Nathan raised his eyebrows as he stared at Eliot. He’d fully expected Eliot to rip the doctor a new one for his assessment of Eliot and his blasé attitude, and was shocked to find him being almost deferent. It was a new and puzzling piece to add to the enigma that was Eliot Spencer.
James Rhimer nodded and sat down next to Nathan on the other side of the bed as he checked his patient’s pulse. “Still a little fast.” He glanced at the partially empty soup bowl. “I see you ate some. How well did it stay down?”
Nathan opened his mouth, but Eliot jumped in once again. “It didn’t. I think we’re going to have to try something a little easier on his stomach.”
Rhimer’s mouth quirked as he watched Nathan frown in annoyance. He leaned over a little and spoke directly to Nathan. “He always this bossy?”
Nathan watched as Eliot’s eyebrows pulled low in a scowl and couldn’t help the grin that lit up his face. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Eliot turned his attention to Nate, smacking him on the hip. “You better watch it, Bubba. I may take shit like that from him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it from you.”
Nathan felt the grin spread wider and felt his heart give a small thump as Eliot’s face softened and a small smile broke through the scowl.
James cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to break up this heartwarming moment, I think you’re right. IV’s are good but not eating isn’t doing his stomach any good. He needs some soda crackers and some nondairy protein drinks if I can find them.”
The doctor injected some more medication into the IV and then stood. “Is there anything else you want me to pick up while I’m gone?”
Eliot stood. “You don’t have to do that, James. I can get it delivered.”
James shook his head and packed up the medicine. “I need to stretch my legs, get some fresh air. Besides, I want to give you two lovebirds some more time together.”
* * *
It’s a combination of the smell of cigar smoke and his desperation to see something else besides the same four walls that finally pulls Nathan from the bedroom. He paused at the entrance to the sitting room, still a little weak, a little shaky.
It had been about three days, but he was finally starting to feel a little better. The sweating had slowed, and while he was still shaking a little, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. He’d managed to keep down his last two protein shakes and Eliot had been making noises about getting him to try some chicken broth.
He watched as Eliot laid down his cards, a big grin finally breaking out on his face. James muttered and threw his cards down, taking a cigar from between his lips and pointing it at Eliot. “You’ve got to be cheating. No way anybody wins five straight hands of Pai Gow Poker.”
Eliot scooped up the cash on the table, adding it to the nice little pile by his left elbow. He glanced up and back to the table before looking up again. “Hey!” He stood and made his way over to Nathan, sliding an arm around his waist. “You feel good enough to be up walking around?”
Nathan shrugged and let Eliot lead him over to a chair at the table, sighing in relief when he was able to sit back down. It irked him to no end that he couldn’t even walk across the room without being too weak to move. “No, I’m fine. I just couldn’t stand looking at the four same walls anymore.”
Eliot nodded and started toward the kitchen. “You’ve been asleep for the last couple of hours. Think you can manage to keep some broth down, maybe some crackers?”
Nathan rubbed at his chin with his hand, wincing at the stubble he felt there. “I don’t know about the crackers, but the broth sounds okay.” He watched as James approached with the IV stand as he emerged from the bedroom.
“Here, you need to keep the bag elevated.” Dr. Rhimer set up the IV stand and hooked the bag to the pole. He pulled out his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, taking in the man’s pallor and still trembling hands. “How are you feeling? Do you still feel anxious? Having any auditory or visual hallucinations?”
Nathan shook his head and watched as Eliot pulled some things from the small refrigerator and set about the task of fixing him something to eat. “I feel much better. Just a little weak.”
James checked Nathan’s blood pressure and measured his pulse. He nodded and folded his equipment. “Much better. Bear with me here a minute. “What’s your name?”
Nathan sighed but answered. “Nathan Ford.”
“Good, good. Now what day is it?”
Nathan looked at him somewhat incredulously and shook his head. “Uh, Sunday, I think.”
Dr. Rhimer nodded his head and smiled. “And where are we?”
“Boston.”
James nodded and pressed on Nathan’s fingernail, watching as it turned pink again. “Everything’s looking good.” He took Nathan’s hand with the IV in the back and started peeling the tape. “You seem to be rehydrated and you’re oriented which is good. Looks like you lucked out and we didn’t get a full case of the DT’s.” He stopped and looked up at Nathan. “I’m going to stop the Valporate and the valium. You may feel a little anxious, but you need to let me know if it gets too bad or you start hearing or seeing things again. You listening?”
Nathan nodded and curled his fingers into his palms, anxious to be rid of the needle stuck through the back of his hand. He flicked his eyes toward the kitchen and watched as Eliot came back toward him with a bowl and some crackers. He licked his bottom lip and tried to smile. He felt okay. Not great, but well enough that he could relax. It was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Continued in
Part 4