Fic: The Heart (Leverage, Gen, PG-13)
Title: The Heart
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4129
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers: Uh, there’s a blink-and-you’ll miss it spoiler for “The Boost Job” 3.08
Warnings: Minor language
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: The team tries to pick up the pieces after Eliot is injured during a job.
Notes: This was written as part of my leverageland Big Bang. It is the sequel to my earlier fic, Broken.
Sophie leaned against the doorframe of Eliot’s bedroom and gazed at Eliot’s slumbering form. He was lying flat on his back, open and exposed. A sheet haphazardly covered part of his lower body, but one track pants-clad leg was poking out. He looked as much like a child as Sophie had ever seen him.
She glanced around the room, not moving out of concern that she might wake him from a much-needed rest. His bedroom-his whole apartment, really-was messier and boasted more personal touches than she would have expected. There was a well-stocked bookshelf-a necessity given his recurring insomnia, she suspected. On the nightstand, there were three framed photographs-one of a horse, one old black and white portrait of a soldier, and a color photograph of a smiling couple. Sophie didn’t know who they were, but she had a feeling that all except perhaps the horse were long gone. It wasn’t likely that Eliot would have advertized their existence and his obvious affection for them if they were still around and vulnerable to his enemies.
It had been three weeks since Eliot was ambushed during a job. He had been sore and tired, but he’d reluctantly gone into a warehouse on what should have been a routine clean-up job. Somehow, though, he’d been discovered and beaten to a bloody pulp. Nate and Parker had found him crumpled in a heap on the floor, and they’d had to rush him to a hospital.
Eliot had awakened a couple of days after it all happened, but he’d been in and out of consciousness for a long while. When he had finally become lucid enough to hold a conversation, he had been eerily subdued. He hadn’t groused or growled or yelled at anyone. And he hadn’t commented on the pain unless directly asked-and then, he was cool and efficient about it. If he was in pain, he said so and actually took the meds offered to him by the nurses.
His lack of response to the whole situation had Sophie on edge. She had expected him to at least hurl an “I told you so” at them, because he had told them his reservations about the job. He had practically begged Nate not to make him go into the warehouse alone and already hurting. But no, he hadn’t mustered a bit of protest or anger or betrayal since coming to in the hospital.
It was clear to Sophie that she would be picking up the pieces of this particular debacle. Nate was too busy with his own (rightly deserved) self-flagellation over his part in Eliot’s injuries. Parker was Parker. And Hardison… well, he would be a great help, but he still looked at Eliot as a strong older brother. He was as unwilling as Nate to recognize Eliot’s fragility.
Backing slowly out of the room, Sophie walked toward Eliot’s kitchen, where she found Nate standing at the counter with a bottle of whiskey and a half-empty glass. He looked as though he’d slept in his clothes, and he was badly in need of a shave.
He glanced up at Sophie as she entered the room. “Eliot still asleep?”
She nodded and leaned her weight against the counter. “Yes, thankfully. He needs the rest.”
Nate took a sip of his drink and ran his fingers through his hair. “Has he talked at all?”
“Nothing of substance, no. You should try to talk to him.”
“Yeah, I will,” Nate said. “Let’s let him recover a little bit.” He sat the glass down on the counter and turned away from Sophie to rifle around in Eliot’s refrigerator.
Sophie folded her arms across her chest. “I think you’re putting it off,” she said.
Nate glanced over his shoulder. “Of course I’m putting it off. I want him to heal, not rip his stitches trying to give me a black eye.”
“Good point. A black eye wouldn’t be undeserved.”
Snapping the refrigerator shut, Nate turned to face her. “You know, Sophie,” he said. I’m more than willing to admit my responsibility for what happened. I’m the one who sent him in there. But dammit, I’m not the only person who takes Eliot for granted. I didn’t hear you taking his side when he bitched about going in.”
Sophie let out a breath. He wasn’t wrong. “No,” she said. “I suppose we all played our part. Are we going to be able to repair the damage here, Nate?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
***
“Hey, buddy.” Hardison pushed open the door to Eliot’s bedroom with his elbow and walked toward the bed. “I brought you some lunch and some stuff to keep you occupied. Got you a Sports Illustrated and a whole stack of DVDs. And I’ll set up the TV in here while you’re working on this soup.”
Eliot frowned at him, but he didn’t argue. He just let his head thump back against the fluffy pillow. “Dammit, Hardison,” he said weakly. “You don’t have to mother hen me.”
Hardison set a tray of juice and broccoli cheddar soup on the nightstand and dumped the DVDs on the edge of the bed. “What? You gonna stand in the kitchen and cook? You just let Hardison take care of the basics, and you work on getting back to your grouchy self.”
Back when he had still been living with his Nana, Hardison had learned to take care of the sick and injured. It had been a necessary skill in a foster home full of kids. Plus, Nana had taken sick spells off and on, and Hardison had played caretaker to her when she couldn’t get around. Part of Hardison wondered if he would have made a good nurse. Scratch that-a doctor. Nana had always taught him to think big.
Humming to himself, Hardison reached down to help Eliot sit up in bed, but his hand was slapped away. “I can do it, dammit,” Eliot groused. “I said I’m not an invalid.”
“All right, man,” Hardison said, holding up his hands. “Be a tough guy. I’ll just stand here and watch.”
As Eliot struggled to lift himself into a sitting position, Hardison took a good look at him. He wasn’t used to seeing Eliot so vulnerable, and it rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He thought back to all the stupid things he’d said to Eliot over the past couple of years-all the times he’d made light of the dangers of Eliot job, all the times he’d mocked his paranoia, all the times he’d ignored his complaints of pain and exhaustion. He wanted to find a way to make up for all of that, but soup and magazines and DVDs seemed like small compensation. Still, it was a start. And even if Eliot said all the fussing over him was unnecessary, Hardison knew that a little TLC was just as important to recovery as rest and meds.
Reaching down to fluff Eliot’s pillow Hardison asked, “You need a pain pill?”
Eliot glanced up at him. “Yeah,” he said through a clenched jaw. “I could use one.”
With a little more enthusiasm than necessary, Hardison scooped up the bottle of pills and smiled. “Alrighty,” he said. “Just let me get one here for you. Do you need to go to the restroom or anything?”
Shooting Hardison a glare, Eliot groused, “I can do that myself.”
“I’m just trying to help, man.” He handed the tray of food to Eliot and watched as he sniffed the soup before spooning some into his mouth. “Don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”
“Really?” Eliot snapped. “Nobody seemed to give a damn how hard I pushed myself all those times I was saving your asses. That’s why I’m in this fucking bed in the first place.”
Out of reflex, Hardison took a step back. This was the first time since the warehouse that Eliot had really broached the subject of what had happened to him. Hardison knew he should be glad that Eliot was finally talking-or snarling anyway-but he really didn’t want to be the one to handle the fallout. That was Nate or Sophie territory. “Listen,” he said gently. “We always cared. We just didn’t… we just… I don’t know, man. I didn’t mean to take you for granted.”
Eliot closed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. There was a resignation to his voice that made Hardison’s stomach lurch.
“No,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Eliot’s shoulder. “It matters. I don’t want you thinking we don’t care. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Just… hook up the TV.”
***
Parker sat on the far edge or Eliot’s bed, watching him as he slept restlessly. She had been put in charge of “keeping an eye on Eliot” while Sophie and Hardison were gone. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to do. Sure, if someone attacked them, she had her taser handy. But no one was attacking them at the moment. She hoped Eliot wouldn’t wake up and ask for food. Cold cereal was about all she knew how to cook, and she didn’t think that would help Eliot much.
So she was watching him sleep.
She’d never seen him sleep before this all happened, and she found the experience more than a little fascinating. She supposed he did sleep at some point, but he’d never let the team see it happen. Parker was the same way. She didn’t like to close her eyes until her surroundings were completely secure. It’s not that she didn’t trust the team-because she mostly did. But sometimes, things become habits that aren’t easily broken.
Scrunching up her face, she gazed at Eliot and wondered how he managed to sleep out in the open when he was fighting in a battle. Maybe he just didn’t sleep for long periods of time. That would explain why he was grouchy so much.
Parker stared at Eliot’s quiet, vulnerable form. Before all of this had happened, Parker had pictured Eliot as a superhero-not a real one, since real ones weren’t real. But like a superhero. In Parker’s mind, he was strong, almost invincible. She never thought she’d find him lying bloody on the floor like a rag doll, and ever since, she couldn’t shake that image from her mind.
Playing with the hem of her t-shirt, she gazed at the rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing, but he was far too still for Parker’s tastes. Tentatively, she reached a finger forward to poke him on the cheek. If he woke up and snapped at her, then she’d know that he was starting to heal, and she’d feel a lot better. So it was really for Eliot’s own good.
As her finger was about to connect with the skin of his cheek, Eliot’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, Parker,” he said blearily. “What’re you doing?”
She put her hand behind her back.“Keeping an eye on you,” she said. “Hardison and Sophie are gone right now. You don’t want food, do you, because I can’t cook.”
The briefest of smiles flitted across his face. “No, I’m okay. I could use some company, though.” He patted the spot on the bed next to himself. “Come on.”
She scooted her body up a bit and stretched out next to Eliot on the bed. It had been a while since she’d been in bed next to someone other than Bunny. It felt a lot more comfortable than she remembered.
As she laid there beside Eliot, she wondered what the others would do if they were there. Eliot probably needed things, but she wasn’t sure what they were. “Oh!” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I can get pain pills for you if you need them,” she said.
“I don’t need ‘em right now.” He rubbed his eyes, yawning and stretching his body a bit. “So,” he said. “How’s everyone doing? They okay?”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Parker traced circles on the bedspread. “Everyone’s mostly fine. Except Sophie is still mad at Nate, and Hardison made the woman at Starbucks really cranky when he made fun of her tattoo.”
Eliot arched an eyebrow. “Why is Sophie mad at Nate? “
“Why do you think?”
Letting out a breath, Eliot closed his eyes. “Right.”
Eliot didn’t say anything else, and after a few moments, Parker started to feel uncomfortable. She reached out a finger and poked him on one of his biceps. “You scared me a lot.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“I’m sorry I hit you with a crowbar.”
Narrowing his eyes at her, he smiled. “That’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t mean it.”
“You don’t catch very well.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. So tell me about Hardison and the Starbucks chick.”
***
Eliot shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers. He’d been in this damn bed for far too long, and he felt like he muscles were going to atrophy from disuse. It had been a long time since he’d been hurt this badly, and the worst of it was that Eliot knew it never should have happened. He’d had an uneasy feeling about that warehouse, and he’d told Nate as much. He didn’t really blame Nate or the others for any of this-not completely anyway. He’d ignored his own gut and had walked into a volatile location.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the ache inside when the turned the situation over in his mind. The ambush at the warehouse had been the end result of a pattern. The past few months, the team had been taking him for granted. They seemed to accept that he would always be there to do whatever they needed. They had been ignoring his frequent injuries, his complaints of fatigue, and his experience-honed instincts. A small, insecure part of him wondered if he was just a means to an end in the eyes of the team, a tool to be used as needed.
Shaking the thought from his head, Eliot wrenched himself into a sitting position. Licking his wounds was never something Eliot was good at-the inactivity, the reminder of his own fragility-it wore thin and gave him too much time to think. He pulled himself gingerly out of bed, groaning at the dull ache that was emanating from his back and legs.
As he was about to drag his sore body to the bathroom, the door to his bedroom was nudged open, and Nate appeared with a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “Hey,” he said. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I woke up,” Eliot said gruffly. He used the nightstand to steady himself, then he moved toward the bathroom.
Nate inched forward, as though he was about to reach out and grab Eliot. “Should you be up?”
When he reached his dresser, Eliot paused a moment to rest. “I need to move around,” he said. “My muscles are weak.”
“Well, I just think it might be a little soon.”
Clenching his hand into a fist, Eliot shot Nate a glare. “Why don’t you trust me for once,” he snapped.
Nodding, Nate backed away, and Eliot continued into the bathroom. After he had relieved himself, he washed his hands and made a face at his reflection. He didn’t consider himself to be a vain man, but he had to admit that his hair was tangled and greasy, and he needed a shave. He let out a breath and tried to gauge his ability to lean over the sink long enough to wash his hair. Even if he could, he’d never be able to wash his own hair without drenching the bandage on left forearm.
The frustration of not being able to get around and do things on his own was getting to him. He didn’t like being dependent on other people. He was the protector. He was the one who took care of everyone else. Whether they appreciated it or not.
Gripping the doorway with his uninjured hand, he poked his head out of the bathroom. “Nate, c’mere.”
A few seconds later, Nate appeared in the doorway with an armful of Eliot’s sheets. “You okay?”
“What are you doing?”
“I figured I’d change your bed while you were up.”
For fuck’s sake, Eliot thought to himself. “Well, my hair’s a mess. I need you to help me wash it, so don’t get my bandages wet.”
“Oh, sure.” Nate disappeared for a moment, presumably to toss the sheets into a laundry basket. When he came back, he was rolling up the sleeves on his button-up shirt. “Should I get you a chair?”
“It’s not gonna take that long.”
“You’ve got a lot of hair.”
“It’s fine,” Eliot groused. “Just get it done.
For a second, Nate looked like he might argue, but he just nodded and retrieved the shampoo and a towel from the shower caddy. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he squeezed a bit of shampoo into his hand. “All right,” he said. “Lean over the sink.”
Eliot braced himself on his elbows, wincing at the pressure to his forearm. He closed his eyes as Nate turned on the water and started to wet down his hair and thread shampoo through the long locks. He’d never admit it to anyone on the team, but Eliot enjoyed having people work with his hair. It was intimate and uncomplicated, and he liked the feel of fingers massaging his scalp.
As Nate continued to work the shampoo through Eliot’s hair, he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, Eliot. I’m sorry I sent you into that warehouse. I should have listened to you.”
Biting his lip, Eliot said, “It’s over.”
“No, we need to talk about this. Head back down so I can rinse.”
Eliot leaned down and let Nate soak his hair with lukewarm water. “What is there to talk about? I got hurt. It goes with the job.”
“This is bigger than one job, Eliot. We’ve had a problem for a while, and I’ve been ignoring it.”
Swallowing, Eliot let the water cascade down his neck and face. After a moment, he said, “I just don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”
Nate finished rinsing, then squeezed handfuls of Eliot’s hair to get out the excess water. Afterward, he threw the towel over Eliot’s head and patted him on the shoulder. “Okay, done. You, uh, want me to shave you, too?”
Eliot shook his head. “It can wait until tomorrow.” He didn’t want to admit it to Nate, but he was starting to feel like maybe he had overextended himself. His back was aching, and his legs felt heavy. Crawling back into bed was sounding like a damn fine idea right now.
Nate seemed to sense his fatigue, because he made quick work of rubbing Eliot’s damp hair as best he could. Then he draped the towel around Eliot’s shoulders and held out his arm. “Bedroom or living room?”
Reluctantly, Eliot grabbed Nate’s arm. “Bedroom.”
After Nate steered him back to bed, Eliot climbed in and gratefully clung to the pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that his damp hair was getting the clean pillowcase wet. He also tried-albeit in vain-to ignore the fact that Nate was still standing there, presumably trying to decide if he should push Eliot to talk or not.
With a longsuffering breath, Eliot opened his eyes. “We’re gonna hash this out today, aren’t we?”
Nate sat down on the side of the bed. “It’s either that or let it fester.”
Eliot gazed at Nate for a long while. He didn’t like to admit weakness, but he was too tired to keep up his defenses. And Nate was right-they did need to talk. “I’ve been exhausted the past few weeks, Nate,” he said after a moment. “But I feel like I don’t get to be tired, because everybody is counting on me to be some kind of super-soldier or something.”
“We do count on you, Eliot, but if you’re that worn out, I need you to tell me.”
“See that the thing. I did tell you. Several times.”
Running his fingers through his hair, Nate nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been so focused on our jobs, I haven’t been listening to you.”
“We’re supposed to be a team, but sometimes, I just feel like I’m the dumb muscle.” He covered his face with his uninjured arm. “Ah fuck it. I’ve been in this bed too long. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
“Eliot, I know we’ve been taking your for granted lately, but you’re more than dumb muscle. And if you don’t know that, then we have a big problem.”
Shaking his head, Eliot said, “Like I said, I’m just feeling sorry for myself.” He took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain what he was feeling. “When I was in the Army, there was a lot wrong in those days, I’m not gonna lie. But we all had to operate like we were one body. And we had to balance each other. And that’s what I need from you guys. I don’t mind being the muscle, but I can’t be the only line of defense anymore. And most of all, I need you guys to trust me to know my job and my limits. I’ve kept myself alive for a long time.”
Nate reached out and laid his hand on Eliot’s shoulder. “Eliot, I trust you probably more than anyone I know, and I’m sorry I forgot that. And I want you are the most professional person on the team. Hell, you managed to evade me for years.”
Eliot chuckled under his breath. “Pissed you off, didn’t it?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You came close a few times, you know.”
“Yet in the end, it looks like you guys caught me.” He squeezed Eliot’s shoulder. “I meant what I said on the docks. You guys are my family. I don’t ever want to lose you.”
***
For the first time since Eliot was injured, Nate felt hopeful and at peace. As frightening as it had been to see Eliot so hurt and fragile, the whole thing had given the team a push to work out some things that had needed attending to for a long while.
Nate could be single-minded and dogged when he was working toward a goal, but he realized now that he’d lost some of his intuition along the way. He’d stopped noticing the little twitches and quirks that told him what was happening in the heads of his adopted family. He had once told Hardison that a leader needed to be ruthless. There was a certain amount of truth to that, but what Nate had forgotten is that a leader also needs compassion. From this point forward, Nate resolved to get some of that back.
With a tray filled with breakfast, Nate walked briskly to Eliot’s room and opened the door with his foot. When he entered the room, he found Eliot sitting up in bed watching the TV that Hardison had set up for him. Clearing his throat to get Eliot’s attention, he said, “I cooked.”
Eliot arched an eyebrow. “You cooked? You. Cooked.”
“Yep! Don’t act so shocked. I’m no you, of course, but I can make an omelet.” Nate handed the tray to Eliot, then walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. “You look better.”
“I feel better,” he said. “I may not be able to take on a small army, but I’m bouncing back.”
“You know, at some point in the future, when you’re feeling up to it… I was thinking that I might have Hardison find us a cabin somewhere, and we could go fishing. You, me, and maybe Hardison, if he’s willing to brave the wilderness.”
Eliot laughed out loud. “That’s a big if. Anyway, I’d like that.”
“What are you watching?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Eliot licked his bottom lip. “It’s, uh, like a Western. Mostly that’s what it is. But it sort of takes place in outer space.”
Nate grinned. “So you’re watching sci-fi?”
“Hardison,” he said with a wince.
“I figured.”
“You know, actually, this isn’t bad.” Pointing at the television, he said, “That guy there? He’s an ex-soldier, and him and his crew are basically criminals. But they’re kind of like a family.”
Nate leaned back against the headboard. “Sounds familiar.”
“Yeah.” Eliot gazed at him for a moment before turning back to the screen. “It’s kind of addicting. Don’t tell Hardison.”
“You’re secret’s safe,” he said with a laugh. “And Eliot? You need to know. You’re not the muscle of the team. You’re the heart.”
Master Fic List
***
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4129
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers: Uh, there’s a blink-and-you’ll miss it spoiler for “The Boost Job” 3.08
Warnings: Minor language
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless in every episode.
Summary: The team tries to pick up the pieces after Eliot is injured during a job.
Notes: This was written as part of my leverageland Big Bang. It is the sequel to my earlier fic, Broken.
Sophie leaned against the doorframe of Eliot’s bedroom and gazed at Eliot’s slumbering form. He was lying flat on his back, open and exposed. A sheet haphazardly covered part of his lower body, but one track pants-clad leg was poking out. He looked as much like a child as Sophie had ever seen him.
She glanced around the room, not moving out of concern that she might wake him from a much-needed rest. His bedroom-his whole apartment, really-was messier and boasted more personal touches than she would have expected. There was a well-stocked bookshelf-a necessity given his recurring insomnia, she suspected. On the nightstand, there were three framed photographs-one of a horse, one old black and white portrait of a soldier, and a color photograph of a smiling couple. Sophie didn’t know who they were, but she had a feeling that all except perhaps the horse were long gone. It wasn’t likely that Eliot would have advertized their existence and his obvious affection for them if they were still around and vulnerable to his enemies.
It had been three weeks since Eliot was ambushed during a job. He had been sore and tired, but he’d reluctantly gone into a warehouse on what should have been a routine clean-up job. Somehow, though, he’d been discovered and beaten to a bloody pulp. Nate and Parker had found him crumpled in a heap on the floor, and they’d had to rush him to a hospital.
Eliot had awakened a couple of days after it all happened, but he’d been in and out of consciousness for a long while. When he had finally become lucid enough to hold a conversation, he had been eerily subdued. He hadn’t groused or growled or yelled at anyone. And he hadn’t commented on the pain unless directly asked-and then, he was cool and efficient about it. If he was in pain, he said so and actually took the meds offered to him by the nurses.
His lack of response to the whole situation had Sophie on edge. She had expected him to at least hurl an “I told you so” at them, because he had told them his reservations about the job. He had practically begged Nate not to make him go into the warehouse alone and already hurting. But no, he hadn’t mustered a bit of protest or anger or betrayal since coming to in the hospital.
It was clear to Sophie that she would be picking up the pieces of this particular debacle. Nate was too busy with his own (rightly deserved) self-flagellation over his part in Eliot’s injuries. Parker was Parker. And Hardison… well, he would be a great help, but he still looked at Eliot as a strong older brother. He was as unwilling as Nate to recognize Eliot’s fragility.
Backing slowly out of the room, Sophie walked toward Eliot’s kitchen, where she found Nate standing at the counter with a bottle of whiskey and a half-empty glass. He looked as though he’d slept in his clothes, and he was badly in need of a shave.
He glanced up at Sophie as she entered the room. “Eliot still asleep?”
She nodded and leaned her weight against the counter. “Yes, thankfully. He needs the rest.”
Nate took a sip of his drink and ran his fingers through his hair. “Has he talked at all?”
“Nothing of substance, no. You should try to talk to him.”
“Yeah, I will,” Nate said. “Let’s let him recover a little bit.” He sat the glass down on the counter and turned away from Sophie to rifle around in Eliot’s refrigerator.
Sophie folded her arms across her chest. “I think you’re putting it off,” she said.
Nate glanced over his shoulder. “Of course I’m putting it off. I want him to heal, not rip his stitches trying to give me a black eye.”
“Good point. A black eye wouldn’t be undeserved.”
Snapping the refrigerator shut, Nate turned to face her. “You know, Sophie,” he said. I’m more than willing to admit my responsibility for what happened. I’m the one who sent him in there. But dammit, I’m not the only person who takes Eliot for granted. I didn’t hear you taking his side when he bitched about going in.”
Sophie let out a breath. He wasn’t wrong. “No,” she said. “I suppose we all played our part. Are we going to be able to repair the damage here, Nate?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
***
“Hey, buddy.” Hardison pushed open the door to Eliot’s bedroom with his elbow and walked toward the bed. “I brought you some lunch and some stuff to keep you occupied. Got you a Sports Illustrated and a whole stack of DVDs. And I’ll set up the TV in here while you’re working on this soup.”
Eliot frowned at him, but he didn’t argue. He just let his head thump back against the fluffy pillow. “Dammit, Hardison,” he said weakly. “You don’t have to mother hen me.”
Hardison set a tray of juice and broccoli cheddar soup on the nightstand and dumped the DVDs on the edge of the bed. “What? You gonna stand in the kitchen and cook? You just let Hardison take care of the basics, and you work on getting back to your grouchy self.”
Back when he had still been living with his Nana, Hardison had learned to take care of the sick and injured. It had been a necessary skill in a foster home full of kids. Plus, Nana had taken sick spells off and on, and Hardison had played caretaker to her when she couldn’t get around. Part of Hardison wondered if he would have made a good nurse. Scratch that-a doctor. Nana had always taught him to think big.
Humming to himself, Hardison reached down to help Eliot sit up in bed, but his hand was slapped away. “I can do it, dammit,” Eliot groused. “I said I’m not an invalid.”
“All right, man,” Hardison said, holding up his hands. “Be a tough guy. I’ll just stand here and watch.”
As Eliot struggled to lift himself into a sitting position, Hardison took a good look at him. He wasn’t used to seeing Eliot so vulnerable, and it rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He thought back to all the stupid things he’d said to Eliot over the past couple of years-all the times he’d made light of the dangers of Eliot job, all the times he’d mocked his paranoia, all the times he’d ignored his complaints of pain and exhaustion. He wanted to find a way to make up for all of that, but soup and magazines and DVDs seemed like small compensation. Still, it was a start. And even if Eliot said all the fussing over him was unnecessary, Hardison knew that a little TLC was just as important to recovery as rest and meds.
Reaching down to fluff Eliot’s pillow Hardison asked, “You need a pain pill?”
Eliot glanced up at him. “Yeah,” he said through a clenched jaw. “I could use one.”
With a little more enthusiasm than necessary, Hardison scooped up the bottle of pills and smiled. “Alrighty,” he said. “Just let me get one here for you. Do you need to go to the restroom or anything?”
Shooting Hardison a glare, Eliot groused, “I can do that myself.”
“I’m just trying to help, man.” He handed the tray of food to Eliot and watched as he sniffed the soup before spooning some into his mouth. “Don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”
“Really?” Eliot snapped. “Nobody seemed to give a damn how hard I pushed myself all those times I was saving your asses. That’s why I’m in this fucking bed in the first place.”
Out of reflex, Hardison took a step back. This was the first time since the warehouse that Eliot had really broached the subject of what had happened to him. Hardison knew he should be glad that Eliot was finally talking-or snarling anyway-but he really didn’t want to be the one to handle the fallout. That was Nate or Sophie territory. “Listen,” he said gently. “We always cared. We just didn’t… we just… I don’t know, man. I didn’t mean to take you for granted.”
Eliot closed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. There was a resignation to his voice that made Hardison’s stomach lurch.
“No,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Eliot’s shoulder. “It matters. I don’t want you thinking we don’t care. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Just… hook up the TV.”
***
Parker sat on the far edge or Eliot’s bed, watching him as he slept restlessly. She had been put in charge of “keeping an eye on Eliot” while Sophie and Hardison were gone. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to do. Sure, if someone attacked them, she had her taser handy. But no one was attacking them at the moment. She hoped Eliot wouldn’t wake up and ask for food. Cold cereal was about all she knew how to cook, and she didn’t think that would help Eliot much.
So she was watching him sleep.
She’d never seen him sleep before this all happened, and she found the experience more than a little fascinating. She supposed he did sleep at some point, but he’d never let the team see it happen. Parker was the same way. She didn’t like to close her eyes until her surroundings were completely secure. It’s not that she didn’t trust the team-because she mostly did. But sometimes, things become habits that aren’t easily broken.
Scrunching up her face, she gazed at Eliot and wondered how he managed to sleep out in the open when he was fighting in a battle. Maybe he just didn’t sleep for long periods of time. That would explain why he was grouchy so much.
Parker stared at Eliot’s quiet, vulnerable form. Before all of this had happened, Parker had pictured Eliot as a superhero-not a real one, since real ones weren’t real. But like a superhero. In Parker’s mind, he was strong, almost invincible. She never thought she’d find him lying bloody on the floor like a rag doll, and ever since, she couldn’t shake that image from her mind.
Playing with the hem of her t-shirt, she gazed at the rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing, but he was far too still for Parker’s tastes. Tentatively, she reached a finger forward to poke him on the cheek. If he woke up and snapped at her, then she’d know that he was starting to heal, and she’d feel a lot better. So it was really for Eliot’s own good.
As her finger was about to connect with the skin of his cheek, Eliot’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, Parker,” he said blearily. “What’re you doing?”
She put her hand behind her back.“Keeping an eye on you,” she said. “Hardison and Sophie are gone right now. You don’t want food, do you, because I can’t cook.”
The briefest of smiles flitted across his face. “No, I’m okay. I could use some company, though.” He patted the spot on the bed next to himself. “Come on.”
She scooted her body up a bit and stretched out next to Eliot on the bed. It had been a while since she’d been in bed next to someone other than Bunny. It felt a lot more comfortable than she remembered.
As she laid there beside Eliot, she wondered what the others would do if they were there. Eliot probably needed things, but she wasn’t sure what they were. “Oh!” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I can get pain pills for you if you need them,” she said.
“I don’t need ‘em right now.” He rubbed his eyes, yawning and stretching his body a bit. “So,” he said. “How’s everyone doing? They okay?”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Parker traced circles on the bedspread. “Everyone’s mostly fine. Except Sophie is still mad at Nate, and Hardison made the woman at Starbucks really cranky when he made fun of her tattoo.”
Eliot arched an eyebrow. “Why is Sophie mad at Nate? “
“Why do you think?”
Letting out a breath, Eliot closed his eyes. “Right.”
Eliot didn’t say anything else, and after a few moments, Parker started to feel uncomfortable. She reached out a finger and poked him on one of his biceps. “You scared me a lot.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“I’m sorry I hit you with a crowbar.”
Narrowing his eyes at her, he smiled. “That’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t mean it.”
“You don’t catch very well.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. So tell me about Hardison and the Starbucks chick.”
***
Eliot shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers. He’d been in this damn bed for far too long, and he felt like he muscles were going to atrophy from disuse. It had been a long time since he’d been hurt this badly, and the worst of it was that Eliot knew it never should have happened. He’d had an uneasy feeling about that warehouse, and he’d told Nate as much. He didn’t really blame Nate or the others for any of this-not completely anyway. He’d ignored his own gut and had walked into a volatile location.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the ache inside when the turned the situation over in his mind. The ambush at the warehouse had been the end result of a pattern. The past few months, the team had been taking him for granted. They seemed to accept that he would always be there to do whatever they needed. They had been ignoring his frequent injuries, his complaints of fatigue, and his experience-honed instincts. A small, insecure part of him wondered if he was just a means to an end in the eyes of the team, a tool to be used as needed.
Shaking the thought from his head, Eliot wrenched himself into a sitting position. Licking his wounds was never something Eliot was good at-the inactivity, the reminder of his own fragility-it wore thin and gave him too much time to think. He pulled himself gingerly out of bed, groaning at the dull ache that was emanating from his back and legs.
As he was about to drag his sore body to the bathroom, the door to his bedroom was nudged open, and Nate appeared with a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “Hey,” he said. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I woke up,” Eliot said gruffly. He used the nightstand to steady himself, then he moved toward the bathroom.
Nate inched forward, as though he was about to reach out and grab Eliot. “Should you be up?”
When he reached his dresser, Eliot paused a moment to rest. “I need to move around,” he said. “My muscles are weak.”
“Well, I just think it might be a little soon.”
Clenching his hand into a fist, Eliot shot Nate a glare. “Why don’t you trust me for once,” he snapped.
Nodding, Nate backed away, and Eliot continued into the bathroom. After he had relieved himself, he washed his hands and made a face at his reflection. He didn’t consider himself to be a vain man, but he had to admit that his hair was tangled and greasy, and he needed a shave. He let out a breath and tried to gauge his ability to lean over the sink long enough to wash his hair. Even if he could, he’d never be able to wash his own hair without drenching the bandage on left forearm.
The frustration of not being able to get around and do things on his own was getting to him. He didn’t like being dependent on other people. He was the protector. He was the one who took care of everyone else. Whether they appreciated it or not.
Gripping the doorway with his uninjured hand, he poked his head out of the bathroom. “Nate, c’mere.”
A few seconds later, Nate appeared in the doorway with an armful of Eliot’s sheets. “You okay?”
“What are you doing?”
“I figured I’d change your bed while you were up.”
For fuck’s sake, Eliot thought to himself. “Well, my hair’s a mess. I need you to help me wash it, so don’t get my bandages wet.”
“Oh, sure.” Nate disappeared for a moment, presumably to toss the sheets into a laundry basket. When he came back, he was rolling up the sleeves on his button-up shirt. “Should I get you a chair?”
“It’s not gonna take that long.”
“You’ve got a lot of hair.”
“It’s fine,” Eliot groused. “Just get it done.
For a second, Nate looked like he might argue, but he just nodded and retrieved the shampoo and a towel from the shower caddy. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he squeezed a bit of shampoo into his hand. “All right,” he said. “Lean over the sink.”
Eliot braced himself on his elbows, wincing at the pressure to his forearm. He closed his eyes as Nate turned on the water and started to wet down his hair and thread shampoo through the long locks. He’d never admit it to anyone on the team, but Eliot enjoyed having people work with his hair. It was intimate and uncomplicated, and he liked the feel of fingers massaging his scalp.
As Nate continued to work the shampoo through Eliot’s hair, he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, Eliot. I’m sorry I sent you into that warehouse. I should have listened to you.”
Biting his lip, Eliot said, “It’s over.”
“No, we need to talk about this. Head back down so I can rinse.”
Eliot leaned down and let Nate soak his hair with lukewarm water. “What is there to talk about? I got hurt. It goes with the job.”
“This is bigger than one job, Eliot. We’ve had a problem for a while, and I’ve been ignoring it.”
Swallowing, Eliot let the water cascade down his neck and face. After a moment, he said, “I just don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”
Nate finished rinsing, then squeezed handfuls of Eliot’s hair to get out the excess water. Afterward, he threw the towel over Eliot’s head and patted him on the shoulder. “Okay, done. You, uh, want me to shave you, too?”
Eliot shook his head. “It can wait until tomorrow.” He didn’t want to admit it to Nate, but he was starting to feel like maybe he had overextended himself. His back was aching, and his legs felt heavy. Crawling back into bed was sounding like a damn fine idea right now.
Nate seemed to sense his fatigue, because he made quick work of rubbing Eliot’s damp hair as best he could. Then he draped the towel around Eliot’s shoulders and held out his arm. “Bedroom or living room?”
Reluctantly, Eliot grabbed Nate’s arm. “Bedroom.”
After Nate steered him back to bed, Eliot climbed in and gratefully clung to the pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that his damp hair was getting the clean pillowcase wet. He also tried-albeit in vain-to ignore the fact that Nate was still standing there, presumably trying to decide if he should push Eliot to talk or not.
With a longsuffering breath, Eliot opened his eyes. “We’re gonna hash this out today, aren’t we?”
Nate sat down on the side of the bed. “It’s either that or let it fester.”
Eliot gazed at Nate for a long while. He didn’t like to admit weakness, but he was too tired to keep up his defenses. And Nate was right-they did need to talk. “I’ve been exhausted the past few weeks, Nate,” he said after a moment. “But I feel like I don’t get to be tired, because everybody is counting on me to be some kind of super-soldier or something.”
“We do count on you, Eliot, but if you’re that worn out, I need you to tell me.”
“See that the thing. I did tell you. Several times.”
Running his fingers through his hair, Nate nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been so focused on our jobs, I haven’t been listening to you.”
“We’re supposed to be a team, but sometimes, I just feel like I’m the dumb muscle.” He covered his face with his uninjured arm. “Ah fuck it. I’ve been in this bed too long. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
“Eliot, I know we’ve been taking your for granted lately, but you’re more than dumb muscle. And if you don’t know that, then we have a big problem.”
Shaking his head, Eliot said, “Like I said, I’m just feeling sorry for myself.” He took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain what he was feeling. “When I was in the Army, there was a lot wrong in those days, I’m not gonna lie. But we all had to operate like we were one body. And we had to balance each other. And that’s what I need from you guys. I don’t mind being the muscle, but I can’t be the only line of defense anymore. And most of all, I need you guys to trust me to know my job and my limits. I’ve kept myself alive for a long time.”
Nate reached out and laid his hand on Eliot’s shoulder. “Eliot, I trust you probably more than anyone I know, and I’m sorry I forgot that. And I want you are the most professional person on the team. Hell, you managed to evade me for years.”
Eliot chuckled under his breath. “Pissed you off, didn’t it?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You came close a few times, you know.”
“Yet in the end, it looks like you guys caught me.” He squeezed Eliot’s shoulder. “I meant what I said on the docks. You guys are my family. I don’t ever want to lose you.”
***
For the first time since Eliot was injured, Nate felt hopeful and at peace. As frightening as it had been to see Eliot so hurt and fragile, the whole thing had given the team a push to work out some things that had needed attending to for a long while.
Nate could be single-minded and dogged when he was working toward a goal, but he realized now that he’d lost some of his intuition along the way. He’d stopped noticing the little twitches and quirks that told him what was happening in the heads of his adopted family. He had once told Hardison that a leader needed to be ruthless. There was a certain amount of truth to that, but what Nate had forgotten is that a leader also needs compassion. From this point forward, Nate resolved to get some of that back.
With a tray filled with breakfast, Nate walked briskly to Eliot’s room and opened the door with his foot. When he entered the room, he found Eliot sitting up in bed watching the TV that Hardison had set up for him. Clearing his throat to get Eliot’s attention, he said, “I cooked.”
Eliot arched an eyebrow. “You cooked? You. Cooked.”
“Yep! Don’t act so shocked. I’m no you, of course, but I can make an omelet.” Nate handed the tray to Eliot, then walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. “You look better.”
“I feel better,” he said. “I may not be able to take on a small army, but I’m bouncing back.”
“You know, at some point in the future, when you’re feeling up to it… I was thinking that I might have Hardison find us a cabin somewhere, and we could go fishing. You, me, and maybe Hardison, if he’s willing to brave the wilderness.”
Eliot laughed out loud. “That’s a big if. Anyway, I’d like that.”
“What are you watching?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Eliot licked his bottom lip. “It’s, uh, like a Western. Mostly that’s what it is. But it sort of takes place in outer space.”
Nate grinned. “So you’re watching sci-fi?”
“Hardison,” he said with a wince.
“I figured.”
“You know, actually, this isn’t bad.” Pointing at the television, he said, “That guy there? He’s an ex-soldier, and him and his crew are basically criminals. But they’re kind of like a family.”
Nate leaned back against the headboard. “Sounds familiar.”
“Yeah.” Eliot gazed at him for a moment before turning back to the screen. “It’s kind of addicting. Don’t tell Hardison.”
“You’re secret’s safe,” he said with a laugh. “And Eliot? You need to know. You’re not the muscle of the team. You’re the heart.”
Master Fic List
***