Title: Near Miss
Author:
telarynGiftee:
elshadowboxerRating: Hard R
Characters/Pairing: Nate/Eliot, team
Word Count: 1497
Spoilers: None
Warnings: m/m, violence
Disclaimer: No money made, no ownership implied.
Summary: Nate goes missing following an attempt on his life by his father.
Notes: For
elshadowboxer with thanks for your participation in this year's Leverage Exchange (and apologies again for my oversight with your posting).
Out of all the ugly truths Eliot Spencer lived with on a daily basis, it was the one he hated most. No matter how much of himself he dedicated to protecting his team - and Nate in particular - he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He was arguably the best at what he did, but nobody was that good.
“Anything?” he asked Hardison, who was glued to his tablet computer.
It was a mark of how upset they all were that Hardison immediately lashed out at him. “Was your brain out to lunch when I told you the signal for his smart phone was gone?” the hacker snapped. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to hit - knew exactly how we’d try and find him!”
He’d taken a half-step forward, fist rising, when the sound of his name pulled him back. “Eliot.” His heart leapt with excitement and hope before his brain was able to catch up and remind him that it wasn’t Nate speaking.
It was Sophie.
“Don’t,” he warned - fear and fury barely restrained now. That was something between him and Nate; Sophie stepping in on that bond felt like a betrayal.
Luckily for all of them, the grifter knew exactly what she’d done, and why he’d been upset by it. “My apologies,” she said, before continuing. “I know exactly how worried you are, Eliot, but you have to know that taking it out on us isn’t fair.” She rested a hand on his forearm. “You’re not the only one who wants to find him, you know.”
He did know. Eliot glanced at the spiral staircase, and saw Parker perched on a step half-way up the span. The thief hadn’t said two words since they’d realized Nate was missing; Eliot was surprised she hadn’t bolted for parts unknown. We’re family now, he reminded himself.
“Sorry,” he said to Parker. A small, sad smile softened the distress vibrating through every part of the thief’s body.
Sighing quietly, but knowing what he had to do in order to keep peace in the family, Eliot finally turned to Hardison. “Sorry, man.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the hacker grumbled, not bothering to look up. “Save it ‘til after we find him.”
***********
It had been blind, stupid luck that the attack was discovered when it was. Three against one; two of the men had pinned the victim against the brick wall of the Chinese restaurant, while the third lunged at him with a switchblade longer than would have been considered legal anywhere.
The woman who saw them immediately started screaming, and even though the blade sank into the victim’s chest, its owner was distracted enough that death wasn’t instantaneous. The victim - a man in his late forties, sank slowly to the ground, while his assailants opted to flee through the Chinese restaurant instead of risking further confrontations.
911 was called, and in no time at all the alleyway was cordoned off, and the man was being loaded onto a stretcher. There was no sign of a wallet or other identification, and his cell phone was in pieces on the sidewalk next to where he’d fallen. “A mugging,” everybody agreed, and the woman who first screamed in fright was labeled a hero.
The victim flatlined twice on the way to the hospital, but each time the EMTs entrusted with his care were able to revive him. He went immediately into surgery, and by dawn was checked into the intensive care unit.
He wouldn’t regain consciousness for another forty-eight hours.
*************
Eliot stalked off the elevator, barely registering the hospital sign pointing the way to ICU. Sophie drafted in his wake, but she made no effort to try and talk him down. They’d agreed on the drive over that as long as Sophie could smooth his way in to see Nate, Eliot wouldn’t resort to beating up an orderly or two in order to make his point.
Even so, it was a considerable test of Sophie’s skill to convince the nurse on duty that Eliot had a legitimate right to visit Nate.
His mouth was dry as he walked through the door and slipped past the curtain around Nate’s bed. The mastermind was sleeping; Eliot reminded himself as he sank into the chair by the bed that he’d regained consciousness briefly the day before. “Dammit, Nate,” he breathed, reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his.
It was times like this Eliot wondered about the wisdom of choosing to care as much as he had. The idea that Nate could have died in that alley turned his stomach in ways he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember.
While he was lost in thought, Nate shifted under his hand. “Eliot?”
Startled, Eliot wiped hastily at his eyes with his free hand. “Hey, boss.” Nate’s eyes were bleary and unfocused, but he was alive. Eliot was more than willing to be grateful for that.
“Feel like hell,” Nate groaned, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “Did you talk to the doctor?”
“Sophie’s taking care of that,” Eliot said. “What do you remember?” He pulled Nate’s hand closer, squeezing it reassuringly.
The older man was quiet for a long moment, staring off into the distance. Finally, he turned to look at Eliot. “It was my father.”
**********
Until the day he died, it was the closest Nate ever wanted to come to hell. His doctor finally ordered a regular dose of Ativan mixed in with his regular drug cocktail to counteract the effects of his phobia about being in the hospital in the first place.
Just when he was starting to stabilize, the effects of alcohol detox set in. All in all, it was six weeks before Nate was considered well enough to go home.
“I want a drink,” he complained as Eliot helped him into the apartment. The others had thoughtfully made themselves scarce once they saw the two of them safely back from the hospital.
“Yeah, let’s not go there,” Eliot said, depositing Nate on the sofa. “At least not while you’re on so many pills.” He tossed the white pharmacy bag on the table and went to the kitchen for some juice.
“They’re antibiotics,” Nate called after him - irrationally annoyed at the hovering. He’d always been a terrible patient, as far back as he could remember.
“Two different painkillers,” Eliot countered, the ‘don’t even try it’ obvious in his tone of voice. He returned with a full juice glass. “They almost got you right in the heart, Nate,” he said, passing over the glass and starting to dig out the bottles of pills. “We’re damn lucky you’re sitting here able to be a pain in my ass about this.”
Memory of who had ordered the attack rose in Nate’s consciousness again. It had been easy to forget when he was doped to the gills and flat on his back, who had wanted him dead in such a messy, painful, street-justice kind of way. “Jimmy’s not going to be happy they screwed up.”
Eliot handed over the first handful of pills; Nate took them and swallowed dutifully, washing the medicine down. The look on his hitter’s face was frightening. “You leave the old bastard to me,” Eliot growled. “Once you’re back on your feet, your dad and I are going to have a reckoning.”
And by reckoning, he means one of them isn’t walking away from the meeting alive, Nate thought, studying Eliot’s expression as he took his second handful of pills. It was disturbing for him to realize that his only thought on the matter was that it wasn’t the worst idea anyone had ever proposed to him. He’d already come to grips with the fact that he didn’t have the stones to kill his father himself, but that didn’t mean the old man didn’t need to die.
“I don’t deserve you,” Nate said, once his medicine was down, and he’d drained the glass.
Eliot smiled, but his blue eyes were full of deeper emotions. “Yeah, but lucky for you I’m a sucker for old, broken-down drunks.”
Startled, Nate laughed then winced; clutching his chest. “I’m all right,” he breathed, when Eliot leaned forward - every line of his body tense with worry. “Just..don’t make me laugh, okay? Not for a while.”
Eliot relaxed. “Okay.” He looked Nate over, eyes warming with interest. “Guess there’s other stuff we shouldn’t plan on doing for a while either, huh?”
Nate groaned softly, feeling his cock stiffen. “That’s not fair,” he complained. “I’m disabled. Helpless.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot said. He leaned in and kissed Nate - slipped a hand between the older man’s legs and squeezing gently. Nate groaned, thrusting his hips weakly against the pressure. “Feels okay to me,” Eliot said, when their lips finally parted.
“I dunno,” Nate said. “I’m not exactly at my best.”
Eliot thumbed open the button on Nate’s slacks and pulled down his zipper. “I think we can manage just fine,” he said, slipping his hand inside and kissing his lover again.