Fic: Broken (Gen, with a focus on Nate and Eliot, PG-13)
Title: Broken
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1413
Genre: Gen, Angst
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Well, it's not particularly happy.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: When Eliot is discovered and critically injured during a job, all Nate can do is watch and wait.
Notes: This was written for angst_bingo for the prompt "discovered." According to a poll I did on my LJ, quite a lot of people wanted to see Something Bad happen to Eliot, so I tried to deliver. :D
“I don’t like it, Nate. Something just doesn’t feel right.”
Nate watched as Parker, Hardison, and Sophie climbed into the van. After they were all inside, he followed suit and lowered himself into a seat beside Parker. “No, Eliot, it’s fine,” Nate said into the comms. “Sophie and I already did the hard part. All you have is a simple clean-up. In and out.”
Eliot’s gravelly voice erupted in Nate’s ear. “So, you think my job is easy,” he growled. “I am hurting all over, Nate. My ribs are bruised. My shoulder hurts.”
It was the same old argument again. Eliot was convinced that no one appreciated the gravity of his work, and he was bound and determined to let everyone know it. Nate knew he was going to have to sit Eliot down and have a talk with him about this eventually.
“Look, you’ll be fine,” Nate said. “You’re not facing an army here. It’s clean-up.”
“If you think it’s so easy, you do it,” Eliot groused.
Hardison glanced over his shoulder at the others and rolled his eyes. “Aw, quit your bellyaching,” he said with a grin.
“I just don’t like it man,” Eliot said. “The air doesn’t feel right.”
Nate shook his head. “Just focus on the job,” he said. “We’ll be there to pick you up in a few.”
As Hardison pulled the van out of the parking lot, Parker took out her earbud and stuffed it into her pocket. “Someone’s crankier than usual,” she said.
Sophie shifted in her seat. “He’s probably tired,” she said. “We’ve been working a breakneck pace for weeks. I’m tired.” She shot Nate a glare.
“The job isn’t going to do itself, Sophie” Nate said. “Let’s just pick him up.”
Seven minutes later, Nate heard rustling on the other end of the comm, followed by loud voices, several thuds, and Eliot, choking and sputtering. He sat up straight in his seat. “Eliot, you okay?” When he didn’t get an answer, he said in a louder voice, “Talk to me Eliot. What’s happening?”
“They found me, Nate,” Eliot said. He sounded breathless and like he was biting back pain. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”
Nate swallowed, the blood draining from his face. “Just hold on, Eliot,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
Hardison hit the gas, weaving in and out of traffic. Still, the drive to the warehouse where Eliot was seemed to take hours. Nate kept talking to him, asking him if he was all right, reassuring him that they’d be there before he knew it. But Eliot never answered back, his comm falling eerily silent.
When Lucille 2.0 finally skidded to a stop in front of the warehouse, both Nate and Parker stumbled out of the van and rushed recklessly inside. They searched until they finally found Eliot. He was lying in a heap in the middle of the floor, bloody and motionless.
***
Nate hunched forward in a wobbly plastic chair, his face buried in his hands as he tried to drown out the familiar sights and smells and sounds of the hospital. He didn’t want to be here. Hospitals were places of death-he knew that from personal experience-and now, they had brought Eliot to one.
He had been by Eliot’s side when they had rushed into the Emergency Room. He had seen the looks on the faces of the doctors as they had assessed and had tended to Eliot’s injuries. He had heard the hushed whispers-though not the words themselves-as the doctors had arranged to move Eliot up to surgery. He had spent enough time in hospitals to know what those looks and whispers meant. Eliot was in bad shape, and Nate was already preparing himself for the worst.
He was relieved that Hardison was keeping it together enough to arrange their cover stories and run interference with law enforcement. If it had been left to Nate, they’d all be in handcuffs right now.
Letting out a ragged breath, Nate staggered to his feet and looked around the room. Parker was sitting against the wall, her head leaned back and her arms hugged tightly around her body. Hardison was pacing, tapping his fingers on his legs and glancing down the hall as if he expected the doctors to appear at any moment. As for Sophie, she was sitting in the chair next to the one vacated by Nate, and she was playing with her hair.
“I need a drink,” Nate announced to no one in particular.
Sophie looked up at him. “And Eliot needs you here,” she said evenly.
Nate shook his head. “No, the doctors said he’d be in surgery for a while. I can’t wait around here.”
“So you’re just going to leave?”
“I don’t like hospitals,” he snapped. Licking his lips, he spoke more softly. “I’m gonna get a drink. Call my cell if anything changes.”
***
Eliot was the team’s tough guy, the strong one, the one everyone depended upon. And now he was lying on an operating table, and doctors were cutting into his skin, giving him new scars to add to the gallery he already had. And Nate, Nate was in a bar, staring at the bottom of yet another empty glass.
He had let Eliot down, had refused to listen to the misgivings of a consummate professional who had kept himself alive in war zones and foreign prisons. The moment Eliot had expressed reservations about the situation, Nate should have pulled the plug. He should have trusted Eliot to know his job.
Closing his eyes, Nate thought back to all the times Eliot had accused the team of taking him for granted. They always seemed to think Eliot should be able to do his job without incident, then magically appear to save everyone else if the shit hit the fan. He had often said that his job was harder than anyone thought and that the work was starting to take a toll on his body. He’d said as much before Nate had pushed him into entering the warehouse.
This time, he hadn’t been able to save even himself. He’d been discovered when he was already hurting and vulnerable. He had gone down hard, and he had gone down alone. And it was Nate’s fault.
***
Nate stood in the doorway of Eliot’s room. He’d spoken to the doctors when he’d gotten back to
the hospital, but memories of Sam and fear for Eliot had drowned out most of their words. He had caught bits and pieces of sentences-“unable to breathe on his own,” “the next 48 hours,” “level of consciousness.” But as he walked into Eliot’s room, he still had no idea what he was going to find.
The sight that greeted him caused his stomach to drop. Eliot was lying there, tubes poking out of ghastly pale skin. There were bandages on his head and wrist, and bruises crept up from his chest to the exposed skin on his neck. Nate suspected there were more bandages underneath the bedding. And a ventilator was taped to Eliot’s face, making him look broken and helpless.
Nate hadn’t expected the ventilator, so the sight of it took him off guard and caused the bile in his stomach to churn. He dipped his hand into his pocket and ran his fingers along the cool metal flask of Jameson he’d spirited into the hospital. Letting out a breath, he took a few steps toward Eliot’s bed and stared at him.
Biting his bottom lip, Nate lowered himself into the chair next to Eliot’s bed. Eliot was motionless, showing no signs that he knew Nate was there. When they had finally reached the warehouse and had found Eliot crumpled up on the floor, the worst thing for Nate hadn’t been the blood. He had seen Eliot bleed before. No, the worst thing had been the stillness. He hadn’t moved when they’d spoken to him. He’d remained deadly still, and it had scared the shit out of Nate.
“I’m sorry,” Nate choked. “I’m so sorry.”
He waited for a moment, half-expecting but mostly hoping that Eliot would stir and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself. But he remained immobile, and the only sound in the room was the suction of the ventilator that was pumping air into Eliot’s lungs.
Nate pulled out the flask and took a swig of Jameson, then he leaned back in his chair to watch and to wait.
Master Fic List
***
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1413
Genre: Gen, Angst
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Well, it's not particularly happy.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: When Eliot is discovered and critically injured during a job, all Nate can do is watch and wait.
Notes: This was written for angst_bingo for the prompt "discovered." According to a poll I did on my LJ, quite a lot of people wanted to see Something Bad happen to Eliot, so I tried to deliver. :D
“I don’t like it, Nate. Something just doesn’t feel right.”
Nate watched as Parker, Hardison, and Sophie climbed into the van. After they were all inside, he followed suit and lowered himself into a seat beside Parker. “No, Eliot, it’s fine,” Nate said into the comms. “Sophie and I already did the hard part. All you have is a simple clean-up. In and out.”
Eliot’s gravelly voice erupted in Nate’s ear. “So, you think my job is easy,” he growled. “I am hurting all over, Nate. My ribs are bruised. My shoulder hurts.”
It was the same old argument again. Eliot was convinced that no one appreciated the gravity of his work, and he was bound and determined to let everyone know it. Nate knew he was going to have to sit Eliot down and have a talk with him about this eventually.
“Look, you’ll be fine,” Nate said. “You’re not facing an army here. It’s clean-up.”
“If you think it’s so easy, you do it,” Eliot groused.
Hardison glanced over his shoulder at the others and rolled his eyes. “Aw, quit your bellyaching,” he said with a grin.
“I just don’t like it man,” Eliot said. “The air doesn’t feel right.”
Nate shook his head. “Just focus on the job,” he said. “We’ll be there to pick you up in a few.”
As Hardison pulled the van out of the parking lot, Parker took out her earbud and stuffed it into her pocket. “Someone’s crankier than usual,” she said.
Sophie shifted in her seat. “He’s probably tired,” she said. “We’ve been working a breakneck pace for weeks. I’m tired.” She shot Nate a glare.
“The job isn’t going to do itself, Sophie” Nate said. “Let’s just pick him up.”
Seven minutes later, Nate heard rustling on the other end of the comm, followed by loud voices, several thuds, and Eliot, choking and sputtering. He sat up straight in his seat. “Eliot, you okay?” When he didn’t get an answer, he said in a louder voice, “Talk to me Eliot. What’s happening?”
“They found me, Nate,” Eliot said. He sounded breathless and like he was biting back pain. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”
Nate swallowed, the blood draining from his face. “Just hold on, Eliot,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
Hardison hit the gas, weaving in and out of traffic. Still, the drive to the warehouse where Eliot was seemed to take hours. Nate kept talking to him, asking him if he was all right, reassuring him that they’d be there before he knew it. But Eliot never answered back, his comm falling eerily silent.
When Lucille 2.0 finally skidded to a stop in front of the warehouse, both Nate and Parker stumbled out of the van and rushed recklessly inside. They searched until they finally found Eliot. He was lying in a heap in the middle of the floor, bloody and motionless.
***
Nate hunched forward in a wobbly plastic chair, his face buried in his hands as he tried to drown out the familiar sights and smells and sounds of the hospital. He didn’t want to be here. Hospitals were places of death-he knew that from personal experience-and now, they had brought Eliot to one.
He had been by Eliot’s side when they had rushed into the Emergency Room. He had seen the looks on the faces of the doctors as they had assessed and had tended to Eliot’s injuries. He had heard the hushed whispers-though not the words themselves-as the doctors had arranged to move Eliot up to surgery. He had spent enough time in hospitals to know what those looks and whispers meant. Eliot was in bad shape, and Nate was already preparing himself for the worst.
He was relieved that Hardison was keeping it together enough to arrange their cover stories and run interference with law enforcement. If it had been left to Nate, they’d all be in handcuffs right now.
Letting out a ragged breath, Nate staggered to his feet and looked around the room. Parker was sitting against the wall, her head leaned back and her arms hugged tightly around her body. Hardison was pacing, tapping his fingers on his legs and glancing down the hall as if he expected the doctors to appear at any moment. As for Sophie, she was sitting in the chair next to the one vacated by Nate, and she was playing with her hair.
“I need a drink,” Nate announced to no one in particular.
Sophie looked up at him. “And Eliot needs you here,” she said evenly.
Nate shook his head. “No, the doctors said he’d be in surgery for a while. I can’t wait around here.”
“So you’re just going to leave?”
“I don’t like hospitals,” he snapped. Licking his lips, he spoke more softly. “I’m gonna get a drink. Call my cell if anything changes.”
***
Eliot was the team’s tough guy, the strong one, the one everyone depended upon. And now he was lying on an operating table, and doctors were cutting into his skin, giving him new scars to add to the gallery he already had. And Nate, Nate was in a bar, staring at the bottom of yet another empty glass.
He had let Eliot down, had refused to listen to the misgivings of a consummate professional who had kept himself alive in war zones and foreign prisons. The moment Eliot had expressed reservations about the situation, Nate should have pulled the plug. He should have trusted Eliot to know his job.
Closing his eyes, Nate thought back to all the times Eliot had accused the team of taking him for granted. They always seemed to think Eliot should be able to do his job without incident, then magically appear to save everyone else if the shit hit the fan. He had often said that his job was harder than anyone thought and that the work was starting to take a toll on his body. He’d said as much before Nate had pushed him into entering the warehouse.
This time, he hadn’t been able to save even himself. He’d been discovered when he was already hurting and vulnerable. He had gone down hard, and he had gone down alone. And it was Nate’s fault.
***
Nate stood in the doorway of Eliot’s room. He’d spoken to the doctors when he’d gotten back to
the hospital, but memories of Sam and fear for Eliot had drowned out most of their words. He had caught bits and pieces of sentences-“unable to breathe on his own,” “the next 48 hours,” “level of consciousness.” But as he walked into Eliot’s room, he still had no idea what he was going to find.
The sight that greeted him caused his stomach to drop. Eliot was lying there, tubes poking out of ghastly pale skin. There were bandages on his head and wrist, and bruises crept up from his chest to the exposed skin on his neck. Nate suspected there were more bandages underneath the bedding. And a ventilator was taped to Eliot’s face, making him look broken and helpless.
Nate hadn’t expected the ventilator, so the sight of it took him off guard and caused the bile in his stomach to churn. He dipped his hand into his pocket and ran his fingers along the cool metal flask of Jameson he’d spirited into the hospital. Letting out a breath, he took a few steps toward Eliot’s bed and stared at him.
Biting his bottom lip, Nate lowered himself into the chair next to Eliot’s bed. Eliot was motionless, showing no signs that he knew Nate was there. When they had finally reached the warehouse and had found Eliot crumpled up on the floor, the worst thing for Nate hadn’t been the blood. He had seen Eliot bleed before. No, the worst thing had been the stillness. He hadn’t moved when they’d spoken to him. He’d remained deadly still, and it had scared the shit out of Nate.
“I’m sorry,” Nate choked. “I’m so sorry.”
He waited for a moment, half-expecting but mostly hoping that Eliot would stir and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself. But he remained immobile, and the only sound in the room was the suction of the ventilator that was pumping air into Eliot’s lungs.
Nate pulled out the flask and took a swig of Jameson, then he leaned back in his chair to watch and to wait.
Master Fic List
***