Fic: Lost and Found (Leverage, Eliot-focused gen, PG-13)
Title: Lost and Found
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1361
Category: Gen, with a focus on the bond between Nate and Eliot.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, Eliot would be shirtless in half the episodes.
Summary: Eliot finds himself wounded and dying after an old adversary returns but fortunately, his team has his back.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "septicemia/infected wounds."
Eliot Spencer was lying in the woods, trying to die.
He’d given up trying to live about an hour ago, and now he was just waiting for his body to cooperate and let him drift off to sleep one last time.
He was sprawled against a tree-not leaning against it, really, though he’d started out that way. At some point, his body had lost the will to stay upright, and he’d started to slide into a position somewhere between sitting and lying. Now his head-just his head-was propped up against the cold, wet bark of the tree, and if he had the energy, he’d move, because it was damned uncomfortable.
Eliot had been wounded a couple of days ago at least. Or longer maybe? He’d lost count. He’d tried to patch himself up as best he could with what he’d had available at the time. But what he’d done had amounted to little more than a quick patch-up. At least one of the wounds was infected. His shoulder was on fire, and he was drained and freezing and sick to his stomach. The last time he’d suffered an infection this angry, he’d been in a little town in the Balkans, nursing a wound in his side that had nearly killed him.
The man who had put him in his current position was lying a few feet away in a pool of his own blood, felled by the final blow Eliot had been able to deliver before the pain and blood loss had gotten to him, and he’d staggered over to the tree, slumping hard against it.
The man in the pool of blood-Sergei-had shown up a week or so earlier looking to put Eliot in the ground because of an unfortunate incident that had occurred between them years ago. Eliot’s gut reaction had been to run and try to sort out the situation on his own. Now he was kicking himself internally for not reaching out to his team-that would have been the sensible thing to do.
But other than Nate, who probably knew far more of the gritty details of Eliot’s past than he let on, his team only had a basic idea of who he used to be (or still was-he wasn’t sure sometimes). He didn’t like the idea of exposing too many of his dirty little secrets for their perusal. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t reject him outright, but there might be stares and uncomfortable silence, and that would be just as bad.
So here he was, about to die alone in some dark hole of a forest in Vermont of all places. He wasn’t surprised-except maybe by the Vermont part. Eliot Spencer wasn’t the kind of man to go out surrounded by friends who held his hand and soothed his fears. He’d always kind of figured he’d meet his end in pain, surrounded by darkness and silence and dirt and not much else. It was sort of a shame he’d been right, though.
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes.
***
Eliot’s eyes flickered open, but the light streaming through the windows of…wherever he was assaulted his eyes, causing him to slam them shut again. He tried to concentrate on the sounds and the smells around him. He could hear voices nearby, arguing in not-so-hushed whispers and the constant thud of footsteps moving back and forth in the distance. And the smell. The place reeked of antiseptic.
A hospital.
Eliot tried to lift himself up onto his elbows, but a surge of pain and nausea caused him to grit his teeth and let his body slide back down onto the mattress. Groaning, he laid a hand on his injured and now-bandaged shoulder.
His groan must’ve been loud enough to attract attention, because he could hear footsteps shuffling toward him. The scent of apple shampoo greeted him as a hand reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face.
“Eliot?” Nate said quietly. “You awake?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. He opened his eyes again, this time more slowly. “How’d I get here?”
“Hardison put a tracking device in your truck, just in case something like this ever happened. Once we found the truck where you left it, it was only a matter of time before we were able to chase you down.”
Swallowing, Eliot nodded. He should be pissed at the invasion to his privacy, but right now, he didn’t have the energy to muster up the anger and indignation. Besides, he was still breathing. It was kind of hard to be pissed about that. He licked his lips. “I thought I was…”
Nate patted him on his good shoulder. “Well, it was close. I’m not gonna lie. But you’re fine now.” He reached behind him and dragged a chair closer to the bed. “Now listen. The ID Hardison pulled for you is Mark Baker, and I told them you’re my brother.”
“Okay,” Eliot murmured, shifting a little to take the pressure off his lower back. He shuddered a little and tried to hike the blanket up to cover his arms. He was freezing, which meant the infection was still kicking his ass.
Standing up, Nate tugged the blanket over Eliot’s arms and smoothed out the fabric. “That better?”
“Yeah.”
“You need anything else?”
“Water.”
Nate poured some water out of the pitcher on the side table and with one hand, lifted Eliot’s head up a little. After Eliot took a few sips of the water, Nate laid his head back down on the pillow and lowered himself into the chair.
“I sent the others home for a while,” Nate said. “They just left about an hour ago, actually. Oh, that reminds me.” He walked across the room, rustled around in a bag, and then came back to Eliot’s bed. Depositing a little brown plush horse on Eliot’s chest, he said, “That’s from Parker. She said you need a stuffed horse.”
Eliot smiled and lifted up the toy so he could have a better look. He stroked the soft “fur” of the horse with his thumb, and then sat it back down on his chest. “That’s very Parker.”
Nate nodded and grinned. “Yeah, it is. She even showed me the receipt to prove that she paid for it. You should be honored.”
Eliot chuckled a bit. “Believe me, I am,” he said. After a moment, he added, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off half-cocked. It was a knee-jerk reaction. There was a threat, and I went into survival mode. Old habits.”
Nate reached forward and smoothed out Eliot’s blankets again. “Well, the good thing about being a part of a team is we’ll have your back even when you do something stupid.” He grinned. “You’re safe now.”
Eliot smiled a little and closed his eyes. “I still feel like crap, though.”
“You gotta give the antibiotics time to work.” Nate leaned back in his chair. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Eliot opened his eyes and gazed at Nate, really looking at him for the first time since he’d woken up. Nate was haggard and unshaven. And he looked like he’d been sleeping in his clothes. Eliot realized suddenly that Nate probably had been sleeping in his clothes. “How long have I been here?”
“A couple of days.”
“How long have you been here?”
Nate bit his bottom lip. “A couple of days. I was enough of a pain in the ass that the nurses gave up trying to kick me out.”
“You don’t like hospitals,” Eliot said. “You don’t have to be here.”
Nate reached out and squeezed his arm. “No, I don’t like hospitals,” he said. “But I like you. Now close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”
Eliot gazed at Nate for a long moment. He thought about arguing, but the biggest part of him was inwardly grateful to not be alone and for the warmth he felt from Nate’s presence. Laying a hand on the stuffed horse that still sat on his chest, Eliot let himself sink further into his pillow, and then he closed his eyes.
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1361
Category: Gen, with a focus on the bond between Nate and Eliot.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, Eliot would be shirtless in half the episodes.
Summary: Eliot finds himself wounded and dying after an old adversary returns but fortunately, his team has his back.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "septicemia/infected wounds."
Eliot Spencer was lying in the woods, trying to die.
He’d given up trying to live about an hour ago, and now he was just waiting for his body to cooperate and let him drift off to sleep one last time.
He was sprawled against a tree-not leaning against it, really, though he’d started out that way. At some point, his body had lost the will to stay upright, and he’d started to slide into a position somewhere between sitting and lying. Now his head-just his head-was propped up against the cold, wet bark of the tree, and if he had the energy, he’d move, because it was damned uncomfortable.
Eliot had been wounded a couple of days ago at least. Or longer maybe? He’d lost count. He’d tried to patch himself up as best he could with what he’d had available at the time. But what he’d done had amounted to little more than a quick patch-up. At least one of the wounds was infected. His shoulder was on fire, and he was drained and freezing and sick to his stomach. The last time he’d suffered an infection this angry, he’d been in a little town in the Balkans, nursing a wound in his side that had nearly killed him.
The man who had put him in his current position was lying a few feet away in a pool of his own blood, felled by the final blow Eliot had been able to deliver before the pain and blood loss had gotten to him, and he’d staggered over to the tree, slumping hard against it.
The man in the pool of blood-Sergei-had shown up a week or so earlier looking to put Eliot in the ground because of an unfortunate incident that had occurred between them years ago. Eliot’s gut reaction had been to run and try to sort out the situation on his own. Now he was kicking himself internally for not reaching out to his team-that would have been the sensible thing to do.
But other than Nate, who probably knew far more of the gritty details of Eliot’s past than he let on, his team only had a basic idea of who he used to be (or still was-he wasn’t sure sometimes). He didn’t like the idea of exposing too many of his dirty little secrets for their perusal. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t reject him outright, but there might be stares and uncomfortable silence, and that would be just as bad.
So here he was, about to die alone in some dark hole of a forest in Vermont of all places. He wasn’t surprised-except maybe by the Vermont part. Eliot Spencer wasn’t the kind of man to go out surrounded by friends who held his hand and soothed his fears. He’d always kind of figured he’d meet his end in pain, surrounded by darkness and silence and dirt and not much else. It was sort of a shame he’d been right, though.
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes.
***
Eliot’s eyes flickered open, but the light streaming through the windows of…wherever he was assaulted his eyes, causing him to slam them shut again. He tried to concentrate on the sounds and the smells around him. He could hear voices nearby, arguing in not-so-hushed whispers and the constant thud of footsteps moving back and forth in the distance. And the smell. The place reeked of antiseptic.
A hospital.
Eliot tried to lift himself up onto his elbows, but a surge of pain and nausea caused him to grit his teeth and let his body slide back down onto the mattress. Groaning, he laid a hand on his injured and now-bandaged shoulder.
His groan must’ve been loud enough to attract attention, because he could hear footsteps shuffling toward him. The scent of apple shampoo greeted him as a hand reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face.
“Eliot?” Nate said quietly. “You awake?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. He opened his eyes again, this time more slowly. “How’d I get here?”
“Hardison put a tracking device in your truck, just in case something like this ever happened. Once we found the truck where you left it, it was only a matter of time before we were able to chase you down.”
Swallowing, Eliot nodded. He should be pissed at the invasion to his privacy, but right now, he didn’t have the energy to muster up the anger and indignation. Besides, he was still breathing. It was kind of hard to be pissed about that. He licked his lips. “I thought I was…”
Nate patted him on his good shoulder. “Well, it was close. I’m not gonna lie. But you’re fine now.” He reached behind him and dragged a chair closer to the bed. “Now listen. The ID Hardison pulled for you is Mark Baker, and I told them you’re my brother.”
“Okay,” Eliot murmured, shifting a little to take the pressure off his lower back. He shuddered a little and tried to hike the blanket up to cover his arms. He was freezing, which meant the infection was still kicking his ass.
Standing up, Nate tugged the blanket over Eliot’s arms and smoothed out the fabric. “That better?”
“Yeah.”
“You need anything else?”
“Water.”
Nate poured some water out of the pitcher on the side table and with one hand, lifted Eliot’s head up a little. After Eliot took a few sips of the water, Nate laid his head back down on the pillow and lowered himself into the chair.
“I sent the others home for a while,” Nate said. “They just left about an hour ago, actually. Oh, that reminds me.” He walked across the room, rustled around in a bag, and then came back to Eliot’s bed. Depositing a little brown plush horse on Eliot’s chest, he said, “That’s from Parker. She said you need a stuffed horse.”
Eliot smiled and lifted up the toy so he could have a better look. He stroked the soft “fur” of the horse with his thumb, and then sat it back down on his chest. “That’s very Parker.”
Nate nodded and grinned. “Yeah, it is. She even showed me the receipt to prove that she paid for it. You should be honored.”
Eliot chuckled a bit. “Believe me, I am,” he said. After a moment, he added, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off half-cocked. It was a knee-jerk reaction. There was a threat, and I went into survival mode. Old habits.”
Nate reached forward and smoothed out Eliot’s blankets again. “Well, the good thing about being a part of a team is we’ll have your back even when you do something stupid.” He grinned. “You’re safe now.”
Eliot smiled a little and closed his eyes. “I still feel like crap, though.”
“You gotta give the antibiotics time to work.” Nate leaned back in his chair. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Eliot opened his eyes and gazed at Nate, really looking at him for the first time since he’d woken up. Nate was haggard and unshaven. And he looked like he’d been sleeping in his clothes. Eliot realized suddenly that Nate probably had been sleeping in his clothes. “How long have I been here?”
“A couple of days.”
“How long have you been here?”
Nate bit his bottom lip. “A couple of days. I was enough of a pain in the ass that the nurses gave up trying to kick me out.”
“You don’t like hospitals,” Eliot said. “You don’t have to be here.”
Nate reached out and squeezed his arm. “No, I don’t like hospitals,” he said. “But I like you. Now close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”
Eliot gazed at Nate for a long moment. He thought about arguing, but the biggest part of him was inwardly grateful to not be alone and for the warmth he felt from Nate’s presence. Laying a hand on the stuffed horse that still sat on his chest, Eliot let himself sink further into his pillow, and then he closed his eyes.