Bittersweet
Title: Bittersweet
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam, Eliot, hints of Dean/Eliot
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: The first sign of what's to come for Eliot leaves a bittersweet taste.
Notes: For my Eating Disorder square on my hurt/comfort bingo card (though oddly it's all a bit jumbled in there). This also marks the first story in my Departing Sun arc for this verse that will take us through the end of season one. I think.
I'd like to note that what little information is given here is the result of google-fu and I apologies for anything direly incorrect. Hopefully I can just handwave those issues by saying Eliot's case is highly unusual.
Warning: Talks of illness
For once it isn’t during a job when things go all to hell.
They’d finished their first job post Burke’s Twelve two days before. They were more than a week out from their next job. It was night and the crew was powering through the last few chapters of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for lack of anything more pressing for once.
They were maybe three chapters from the end, taking a break to get fresh drink and take care of business.
Sam wasn’t really sure what had happened. One minute Eliot and Dean were heading back from the kitchen, not being nearly as subtle with the subtext of their banter as they thought they were.
And then Dean was calling Eliot’s name and then calling for help as he struggled to keep the suddenly unconscious man from crashing to the floor.
There was a flurry of activity as the crew converged, helping lay Eliot on one of the couches, checking his pulse.
“Is he doing a read?” Sophie asked, the words running into and over top of Hardison’s question if anyone had said any safe words.
Dean shook his head. “He was talking to me then stopped, grabbed my arm like he was trying to catch his balance, then I was trying to keep him from cracking his skull open on the counter.”
There was a short silence before Nate said the thing they were thinking but not willing to say. “Sounds more like a physical problem than a mental one.”
Eliot had said he had a year six months ago. He was sure he had a year.
But between the fights and what Sam had heard had happened three weeks ago in the bar and hopping on and off his meds there was no guarantee Eliot hadn’t lost time.
Sam glanced toward his brother, absently deciding to not give Dean hell about holding onto Eliot’s hand then. Eliot was running out of time and Sam knew they were running out of time to. It was already almost a year since Dean had broken him out of the transport to the Blue Sun project. Bobby finding them this gig was probably the only reason they’d managed to stay off the raydar so far.
Sam could feel in his bones they didn’t have much longer before the alliance caught up with them. Some nights he dreamt about the roar of Hell-Hound Engines and their latches and magnetic claws tearing the Impala apart.
“Where’s the closest off-grid medical center?” Sophie asked.
“Clo…” Hardison stumbled over the word, clearly having trouble comprehending the question. “Woman we’re in the boondocks. Cross point of No and Where. The only medical centers within two weeks travel of us are Alliance run.”
Nate looked toward Sam. He hesitated then shook his head. They were only eight hours from the pile of rubble that had once been the Roadhouse but that wouldn’t do them any good.
“There’s got to be a town with a doctor. Something.” Sophie insisted.
Sam forced himself to look away from Eliot, glancing toward Hardison. “Lets hit the coretex. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” They left together for the bridge even as Dean and Nate prepared to move Eliot to the med room.
~*~
Nineteen hellishly slow hours Lucile had landed in a small settlement called Four Rivers and within the hour they’d managed to get a still unconscious Eliot to the run down building of the only doctor on that side of the world.
With Eliot, their main fighter, out of commission Sam had come along with Dean and Nate as back up in case of a threat.
And so he found himself sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a waiting room with peeling floral wall paper that looked like it could be older than the world they were on.
The clock on the wall seemed broken, or time seemed to be moving far too slow, as the three of them just waited for news.
There was a sense, a disturbance, and Sam risked reaching out, gripping his brother’s arm to get his attention. He looked over and Sam nodded, just ever so slightly.
Sam could, for lack of a better term, feel any Readers around him. He’d felt Eliot surge toward consciousness.
Dean smiled slightly, relief clear in his eyes, and he looked away.
The next few minutes passed just a little quicker. Eliot was awake but that could mean almost anything.
Finally the graying old doctor let herself out of the examination room and wiped her hands on her coat out of seeming habit before turning to them. “Your friend’ll be alright.” She told them. “He’ll need rest and some proper food but he’ll be back to himself soon enough.”
In another circumstance the simultaneous sigh of relief the three of them released might have been funny. He’d be okay. They’d deal with the fact none of them could remember the last time he’d had a proper meal later.
“What was wrong with him doctor?” Nate asked, always moving forward with plans.
“From what I can tell by, adult onset diabetes.” The doctor answered. “Though I’ve never seen a case quite like his. His blood sugar level should have become lethal hours before you got him here.” That was… unsettling. “I don’t mean to scare you, just impress on you the situation. I’ve got enough basic medicine on hand to stabilize him and keep him that way for a bit but you’d best get on your way to a place you can stock up on insulin and a better testing kit than I can give you. Get him check over by a specialist if you can manage it.” The only nurse at the practice appeared, handing off a box to the doctor. “And that boy needs to watch what he eats. Three good meals a day’ll do a lot to help stabilize his condition. Now if one of you fine gentlemen would come with me I’d like to talk to my patient about medications and changes he’ll need to stay healthy and someone should be aware of them.”
Nate went with the doctor and Dean handed over more of the cash they’d brought with them to the nurse for payment for the medicine. She went into the back to put it away and Sam turned to his brother. “How’re you’re holding up?”
“Fucking fantastic.” Dean said, wiping his mouth and looking away.
Sam sighed. “Dean.”
“What do you want from me Sammy?” Dean asked, irritation and frustration and, as much as Sam hated to notice it, helplessness in his voice. “He’s dying. I knew it, you knew it, everyone’s known it since day one. Does it suck? Goram it yes but…” His voice cracked and he ran out of words. His mouth moved hand his hand fell to his side. He let out a breath like he’d been sucker punched. “He’s dyin’, Sammy.”
“It’s just diabetes.” Sam said, feeling surreal as he said it. “It’s not a brain tumor. He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Until something else decides to give out on him. Damit Sam. What if it’s his lungs next? His heart?”
“Well, then, that’s it.” It was cold, yeah. But there wasn’t anything he could say to that. And he knew Dean’s response before it happened. Dean turned sharply, grabbing at Sam’s coat. Dean needed someone to be pissed at. It was better than whatever he was feeling. “We can’t do anything about that.” He said, keeping his cool. “But I know something we can do. Leave a message with the nurse that we’ll meet them back on Leverage, then lets see if any of these farmers have extra produce.”
Dean’s grip loosened and he stepped back, blinking his eyes skeptically. “Your answer is veggietales?”
“Dean, Eliot hasn’t eaten three good meals a day since we met him. You heard the doctor, diet is important to keeping him healthy. We can start by making sure he’s got something he can actually eat.”
Dean took a breath, nodded, and went to look for the nurse.
~*~
A little less than three days after things first went all to hell Leverage was flying again and things felt almost disturbingly normal. Sam knew mostly it was the team trying to hide from the first hint of what was to come but it was oddly comforting.
If everyone’s glances strayed toward Eliot a little too often no one noticed.
And if Sophie refused to let Eliot leave the dinner table before he’d cleaned his plate? Well it was just more fuel for them to tease her about becoming their collective mother.
They were running out of time. They all were. But they had a little bit longer.
And for now at least they’d hold onto what they could.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam, Eliot, hints of Dean/Eliot
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: The first sign of what's to come for Eliot leaves a bittersweet taste.
Notes: For my Eating Disorder square on my hurt/comfort bingo card (though oddly it's all a bit jumbled in there). This also marks the first story in my Departing Sun arc for this verse that will take us through the end of season one. I think.
I'd like to note that what little information is given here is the result of google-fu and I apologies for anything direly incorrect. Hopefully I can just handwave those issues by saying Eliot's case is highly unusual.
Warning: Talks of illness
For once it isn’t during a job when things go all to hell.
They’d finished their first job post Burke’s Twelve two days before. They were more than a week out from their next job. It was night and the crew was powering through the last few chapters of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for lack of anything more pressing for once.
They were maybe three chapters from the end, taking a break to get fresh drink and take care of business.
Sam wasn’t really sure what had happened. One minute Eliot and Dean were heading back from the kitchen, not being nearly as subtle with the subtext of their banter as they thought they were.
And then Dean was calling Eliot’s name and then calling for help as he struggled to keep the suddenly unconscious man from crashing to the floor.
There was a flurry of activity as the crew converged, helping lay Eliot on one of the couches, checking his pulse.
“Is he doing a read?” Sophie asked, the words running into and over top of Hardison’s question if anyone had said any safe words.
Dean shook his head. “He was talking to me then stopped, grabbed my arm like he was trying to catch his balance, then I was trying to keep him from cracking his skull open on the counter.”
There was a short silence before Nate said the thing they were thinking but not willing to say. “Sounds more like a physical problem than a mental one.”
Eliot had said he had a year six months ago. He was sure he had a year.
But between the fights and what Sam had heard had happened three weeks ago in the bar and hopping on and off his meds there was no guarantee Eliot hadn’t lost time.
Sam glanced toward his brother, absently deciding to not give Dean hell about holding onto Eliot’s hand then. Eliot was running out of time and Sam knew they were running out of time to. It was already almost a year since Dean had broken him out of the transport to the Blue Sun project. Bobby finding them this gig was probably the only reason they’d managed to stay off the raydar so far.
Sam could feel in his bones they didn’t have much longer before the alliance caught up with them. Some nights he dreamt about the roar of Hell-Hound Engines and their latches and magnetic claws tearing the Impala apart.
“Where’s the closest off-grid medical center?” Sophie asked.
“Clo…” Hardison stumbled over the word, clearly having trouble comprehending the question. “Woman we’re in the boondocks. Cross point of No and Where. The only medical centers within two weeks travel of us are Alliance run.”
Nate looked toward Sam. He hesitated then shook his head. They were only eight hours from the pile of rubble that had once been the Roadhouse but that wouldn’t do them any good.
“There’s got to be a town with a doctor. Something.” Sophie insisted.
Sam forced himself to look away from Eliot, glancing toward Hardison. “Lets hit the coretex. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” They left together for the bridge even as Dean and Nate prepared to move Eliot to the med room.
~*~
Nineteen hellishly slow hours Lucile had landed in a small settlement called Four Rivers and within the hour they’d managed to get a still unconscious Eliot to the run down building of the only doctor on that side of the world.
With Eliot, their main fighter, out of commission Sam had come along with Dean and Nate as back up in case of a threat.
And so he found himself sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a waiting room with peeling floral wall paper that looked like it could be older than the world they were on.
The clock on the wall seemed broken, or time seemed to be moving far too slow, as the three of them just waited for news.
There was a sense, a disturbance, and Sam risked reaching out, gripping his brother’s arm to get his attention. He looked over and Sam nodded, just ever so slightly.
Sam could, for lack of a better term, feel any Readers around him. He’d felt Eliot surge toward consciousness.
Dean smiled slightly, relief clear in his eyes, and he looked away.
The next few minutes passed just a little quicker. Eliot was awake but that could mean almost anything.
Finally the graying old doctor let herself out of the examination room and wiped her hands on her coat out of seeming habit before turning to them. “Your friend’ll be alright.” She told them. “He’ll need rest and some proper food but he’ll be back to himself soon enough.”
In another circumstance the simultaneous sigh of relief the three of them released might have been funny. He’d be okay. They’d deal with the fact none of them could remember the last time he’d had a proper meal later.
“What was wrong with him doctor?” Nate asked, always moving forward with plans.
“From what I can tell by, adult onset diabetes.” The doctor answered. “Though I’ve never seen a case quite like his. His blood sugar level should have become lethal hours before you got him here.” That was… unsettling. “I don’t mean to scare you, just impress on you the situation. I’ve got enough basic medicine on hand to stabilize him and keep him that way for a bit but you’d best get on your way to a place you can stock up on insulin and a better testing kit than I can give you. Get him check over by a specialist if you can manage it.” The only nurse at the practice appeared, handing off a box to the doctor. “And that boy needs to watch what he eats. Three good meals a day’ll do a lot to help stabilize his condition. Now if one of you fine gentlemen would come with me I’d like to talk to my patient about medications and changes he’ll need to stay healthy and someone should be aware of them.”
Nate went with the doctor and Dean handed over more of the cash they’d brought with them to the nurse for payment for the medicine. She went into the back to put it away and Sam turned to his brother. “How’re you’re holding up?”
“Fucking fantastic.” Dean said, wiping his mouth and looking away.
Sam sighed. “Dean.”
“What do you want from me Sammy?” Dean asked, irritation and frustration and, as much as Sam hated to notice it, helplessness in his voice. “He’s dying. I knew it, you knew it, everyone’s known it since day one. Does it suck? Goram it yes but…” His voice cracked and he ran out of words. His mouth moved hand his hand fell to his side. He let out a breath like he’d been sucker punched. “He’s dyin’, Sammy.”
“It’s just diabetes.” Sam said, feeling surreal as he said it. “It’s not a brain tumor. He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Until something else decides to give out on him. Damit Sam. What if it’s his lungs next? His heart?”
“Well, then, that’s it.” It was cold, yeah. But there wasn’t anything he could say to that. And he knew Dean’s response before it happened. Dean turned sharply, grabbing at Sam’s coat. Dean needed someone to be pissed at. It was better than whatever he was feeling. “We can’t do anything about that.” He said, keeping his cool. “But I know something we can do. Leave a message with the nurse that we’ll meet them back on Leverage, then lets see if any of these farmers have extra produce.”
Dean’s grip loosened and he stepped back, blinking his eyes skeptically. “Your answer is veggietales?”
“Dean, Eliot hasn’t eaten three good meals a day since we met him. You heard the doctor, diet is important to keeping him healthy. We can start by making sure he’s got something he can actually eat.”
Dean took a breath, nodded, and went to look for the nurse.
~*~
A little less than three days after things first went all to hell Leverage was flying again and things felt almost disturbingly normal. Sam knew mostly it was the team trying to hide from the first hint of what was to come but it was oddly comforting.
If everyone’s glances strayed toward Eliot a little too often no one noticed.
And if Sophie refused to let Eliot leave the dinner table before he’d cleaned his plate? Well it was just more fuel for them to tease her about becoming their collective mother.
They were running out of time. They all were. But they had a little bit longer.
And for now at least they’d hold onto what they could.