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phantismaFandom: Leverage
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Nine (Story Index)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison, Parker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5421
Summary: The team finally finds a lead, and a new/old ally and Nate risks everything to get Eliot back.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense. Apparently this fic has taken over my brain. I've written close to 30000 words since I started on this. That number includes tidbits that were posted to comment_fic but have not yet made it into the bigger story.
Shiny, pretty artwork was sent to me today byraggedy_edge
"You know, this thing with Eliot…I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to do this to anyone."
Nate's voice, filled with guilt and pain rolls around in his head.
He didn't want this. Eliot hears it different. Nate never wanted him.
He grabs onto the thought, lets it pull him out of himself, out of the pain, out of himself. Marquez knows how to work a man, knows how to take him to the limits of his endurance and pull back just enough to keep him from blacking out…because what fun is a victim who can't feel what you're doing to him?
Nate had said the words, said that he didn't want this. Eliot knew that…it was obvious in the way the man shied away anytime Eliot got too close, crossed a line. Nate had said that they weren't friends. But Eliot did what Eliot always does, because he can't take no. Can't take that passive rejection.
He pushed and manhandled and forced until he got what he wanted... consequences be damned. He'd pushed Nate into this twisted, wrong, fucked up thing because Eliot couldn't let the power go, not once he knew the truth.
And this is where it led them.
Eliot pants through the next set of blows, low over his ass and thighs, sharp pain lancing through him as the skin opens, then the warm comfort of a tongue laving over them…the anticipation for the bite that isn't coming…not just yet. Marquez isn't done with him.
He thinks maybe this is better…for Nate anyway…cuts him loose, frees him from the obligation Eliot forced on him. Nate would get over the need, get past the craving...he'd forget...except…
He's not expecting the tongue on his split lip, his eyes closed tight against the sharp lights on him. It presses against the wound, makes it bleed again, then lips close around it and he sucks the lip into his mouth, pulling more blood from him. Eliot grunts and tries to pull back, but his bindings won't let him move.
Eliot had told him to come, told Nate to find him...and Nate, fucking stubborn bastard that he was, would…he wouldn't let it rest until he had. Even if that meant getting himself killed.
Eliot lost the thought, lost everything but the memory of Nate's hand in his hair, his mouth on his neck, as the pain became too much to block out. Marquez was done with his lip, moving back to his marked up ass. The cat o'nine tails ripped another set of holes into his skin, digging deeper than before. He held his voice, wouldn't give the fucking bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Not yet...not yet...
When the bite finally comes, it is on Eliot's thigh. Eliot pants through the orgasm, fighting to hold on, but eventually Marquez drinks enough that his ability to do anything fades and the black claims him.
"Nate?" He growls and pulls the blankets back over his head, hiding from the light, from sobriety, from the memory of what had happened. He doesn't want to be bothered, talked to, doesn't want to deal with anyone, least of all her.
There's frantic whispering though, her and Parker and Nate shifts enough to peer out from under the blanket. Sophie pushes Parker toward him. "I…um. This came for you."
She holds out her hand and the box in it. Nate shifts, sits up and reaches for it tentatively. The label is made out to Nathan Ford, but no one should know where he is. His free hand fumbles on the nightstand for the last of the whiskey he'd left there before passing out, draining the bottle and tossing it aside before turning to the box.
Its wrapped tight in brown paper and tape. He can't smell explosives or anything though so he carefully opens one side, sliding a small box out of the paper. Inside the box is a sealed container. Nate lifts it slowly, eyes narrowing. There's no label, no note. Just the container.
Just as slowly, he opens that, wishing instantly that he hadn't. The smell of Eliot assaults him even before the lid is fully off the container and his cock is hard, his body needy. Eliot's come fills the small jar, taunting him. He closes it quickly and fights to get control of himself.
"What is it?" Sophie asks tentatively from near the doorway.
"A message." Nate grinds out. He swallows and fights the urge to throw the damn thing. "From Marquez." Obviously all their moving around hadn't hidden them from Marquez. Once again Nate had underestimated him. He climbed out of bed, noting the way Parker danced out of his way and Sophie took a step backwards. "Somebody tell me something good."
Things are not good. Eliot can tell even before he opens his eyes. More of the restraints are gone. Which would normally mean a better chance at escape, but he'd left normal the day he'd let some aerospace freak talk him into working on a team with two other thieves and Nate.
Fewer restraints meant Marquez didn't see him as much of a threat anymore.
Eliot opens his eyes, takes in the room. He's been moved again. This place is smaller, with bars. He's on the floor, on his side. His back and ass are raw and stiff when he moves.
His feet are free, the butt plug and its harness to his balls and cock gone. His hands are bound in front of him now, in giant, heavy cuffs of black leather and steel. True to his word, Marquez had left the collar as well.
At least for the moment, he's alone. In the vague light he can see the marks on his skin, the measure of his torment. He wonders how long it will be before Marquez gets bored.
He shifts, up to his knees, which protest, the scabbed skin breaking open. He manages to get to his feet, but it makes him feel light headed and woozy, sending him back against the wall.
Dirty, stringy hair falls into his face, reminding him just how long this has gone on. Days…weeks even. Long enough that the earliest wounds have healed. He doesn't really have a way to measure…He stumbles down the wall, mapping out the size of the room, but before he can get all the way to the door, the weight of the restraints on his wrists pulls him down.
The door opens, bright light falling into the room and over Eliot's body. A shadow blocks the light, then Marquez is squatting beside him. His hand holds Eliot's chin, turns his face. "Get him cleaned up. I want him ready in an hour."
He is gone and the door closed before Eliot can piece the words together and understand them. Ready for what, he didn't know, but a few minutes later two of the big guys were there, pulling him to his feet and dragging him out of the room, into another where they lifted his hands and secured the cuffs over his head, leaving him dangling where his feet barely touched the floor.
The water spray was harsh, pounding into him, slamming him around. They hosed him down, then soaped him up and hosed him down again before leaving him there to dry.
A few minutes later, his feet are on the ground and he's escorted into yet another room where a man in a lab coat looks him over and gestures to a chair. His handlers drop Eliot into the chair and keep him there while the lab-coat prepares a syringe.
"Hey doc, gonna patch me up?" Eliot's voice is raw from disuse, or maybe from the screams Marquez had managed to rip out of him despite his will to stay silent.
"Well, I'm sure this will make you feel better for a little while, son, but it isn't for you." The needle bites into him, cold leeching into him as the plunger was pushed in. "Tell Mr. Marquez that he has to give it time, not to go jumping in right away."
And with that, Eliot was up and out of the chair, being pushed back into the hallway and up a flight of stairs to where Marquez was waiting. He smiled that sick, twisted smile and held up a long piece of leather. "Time to put the pet on a leash." His hand came up with the leash, snapping it onto the collar. "Now see that you're a good pet and maybe I'll let you show everyone how pretty you bleed."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"You volunteering to come with me?" Nate asks, not really looking at her.
"We really should talk."
Nate finishes buttoning his shirt and shakes his head. "No, Sophie. We don't. It was wrong. It isn't going to happen again. End of story."
"I meant about you going in there like this. Alone."
Nate lifts his earpiece, checking it before sliding it in. "Hardison, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear."
"See, not alone."
"That's not what I mean."
Nate turns to look at her. "You heard what Hardison said. Only vampires are getting in the door. Last time I checked, you aren't one."
"Surely you must know some other—"
Nate growls and storms around her, out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. He stops cold there though, and Sophie plows into him from behind. Parker looks particularly pleased with herself. Hardison on the other hand looks more than a little green. Not that Nate can blame him, the poor boy is just getting used to there being vampires at all, let alone one so close and here was another.
"Hello Nathan."
She's smaller than he remembers, petite, almost diminutive. Her hair is shorter, and darker, her skin paler, her eyes bluer. "Genevieve."
For the moment he can forget the others, forget everything except what she had given him, all those years ago…the way her tiny hand had held him, soothing him before she'd bitten.
"Leave us." Despite her size, Genevieve has the air of a queen, regal and commanding and none of them hesitate, crowding out through the door into one of the bedrooms. "Quite some team you have there."
"Yeah, they're great." Nate crossed his arms. "Why exactly are you here?"
"Parker called me. Said you might need some help."
"Don't you think you've helped me enough?" Nate shakes his head. He hadn't meant that the way it sounded.
"I gave you a choice Nathan. You chose to become exactly what you are." She looks him over. "I'm here because I could tell, even on the phone, that Parker actually cares what happens to you. I don't know how long you've known Parker, but that's a rare thing for her. Made me think maybe you're in just a little over your head."
She waved him to a seat. "You make me nervous hovering like that. Sit."
"I thought it was your policy not to get involved in the politics of others." Nate said, sitting on the couch and making a show of trying to relax, even though he was humming with need to get out on the streets.
"It still is, but you are one of mine…and…it's bad form to steal a human from another vampire. In the old days, it would have gotten you staked out in the Sahara to watch the sunrise." She folded her hands in her lap. "So, Marquez is a bad piece of work and his appetites will foul us all eventually. He leaves a trail of bodies behind him."
"Is that your way of justifying being here?" Nate asks with a chuckle. "I haven't seen you since you turned me."
"I can go now if you like, leave you to it." She sits forward in the chair. "But I promise you, that if I do, you kiss your Eliot and your own ass goodbye."
Nate forces himself to calm himself, to meet her gaze. "Better. Now I can tell you've been feeding. That's good. I promise you that Marquez feeds daily, several times a day, and not just on your boy. You're going to need strength if you're going to go after him."
"I've never been so strong." Nate assures her. "Never felt like this."
"I hope so, because once you've started, you can't stop. You have to take him and you have to kill him, or he will kill you. But…" She sits back in the chair, hands once again folded in her lap. "…you will have to play by the rules. If I am going to intervene, there can be no hint of dirty play…"
"Intervene? How?"
Her smile is delightfully wicked. "Call him out. In front of the others, and I will see to it that no one else gets involved. Old fashioned challenge, old fashioned rules, old fashioned judge."
"What is it you're getting out of this?" Nate asks, genuinely curious.
"Revenge, if you win. Marquez is the offspring of an old rival. All the rest are gone. He's the last." She stands, looks him over once more. "You'd better feed well before you go. And I hope you've learned how to throw a punch or two. All that rage will only get you so far."
The sound and lights are overwhelming and Eliot stumbles as he follows Marquez into the darkened corner of what seems to be a nightclub, not unlike the one where they found Marquez in the first place…only this was clearly a place only for vampires and their pets. Each booth was deep with shadows and above and behind it was a cage.
Eliot bucks when it becomes clear that the cage is where Marquez means to put him, putting up a fight for the first time since he gave himself up. Two of Marquez's men grab him and lift him, shoving him into the cage and shutting the door before he can get himself together to attempt to get out.
Marquez sits in the booth, thanking a waitress who drops off a glass of something. Eliot fumes inside the cage, his eyes skimming over the room.
"You know, the last person who kept me entertained as long as you have is now my assistant." Marquez says, though he doesn't look at Eliot. "You've met her, Alison? The red-head. I put her in the cage and she stood there proud as all hell, naked and marked up from my cane and whips and teeth. She couldn't speak her throat was so stripped from screaming, and she had to hold on to the bars to keep from falling down…but damn it was a sight."
Marquez lifts his drink and sips at it. "Honestly I figured you'd break before now. Maybe I'm losing my edge."
Eliot's hands grasp the bars and he wills himself out of the crouch he's in, standing slowly.
"You like that little cocktail the doc gave you? My own special blend. A little bit of me, some vitamins, some drugs to make you feel a little more yourself…helps close up some of the wounds, make you more presentable. Of course, the buyers coming to visit tonight think all the marking proves you're valuable, so not too much of the stuff."
Marquez stands as two other men approach. Eliot can feel their eyes on him, weighing him. He's slow to put it together, Marquez's words with this place, these people.
Marquez means to sell him. Eliot doesn't even know if that's a good thing or worse than waiting for Marquez to just kill him.
"Hardison?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"I'm about a block away."
"Sophie and Parker are finishing up. They'll be waiting at the rendezvous as planned."
"I'm going silent."
"Don't get dead. Er. Don’t get deader." Hardison is still rambling when Nate plucks the earpiece and sticks it in his pocket.
The last thing he needs was Hardison's voice in his head while he prepares to go in after Eliot. And that's exactly what this is. Preparing. It is almost like getting into character for a con, only this is no con.
Nate stops in the shadows of a hulking warehouse, pulling the container from his pocket. Just touching it makes him angry, but he forces himself to open it slowly, letting the smell of Eliot's come fill the air around him, breathing in deeply to trigger the sense memory.
Eliot's skin flushes under his hands, his mouth open as Nate presses into him, his head tipped back in offering as they grind together, closer and closer until Eliot's breathing is coming in pants and his body is trembling. Nate's kisses over sweaty skin become licks, and nips and finally he bites, drinking in deeply as Eliot's cock erupts.
That moment belongs to Nate, that feeling, that release….all of it was his. And Marquez had stolen it. Twisted it into some sick parody. Nate's hands shake as he closes the container. He's hungry, needy. The anger uncoils inside him like a snake, slithering through him until it flushes his skin with an artificial warmth.
He can smell his prey, doesn't think about who he is or why he's out here. Can't let himself be distracted by morality. Nate moves, closer to his target…finds him, drunk, reeking of liquor and cigarettes as he leans against a wall, peeing. He doesn't hear Nate, doesn't know he's about to die.
He doesn't make a sound except for the dull thud when Nate drops the body. Nate leaves him there and starts toward the address where the underground club is hidden under some factory. Cars line the otherwise deserted streets as he gets closer.
He takes a driver, asleep at the wheel of his owner's car. Nearly to the door of the club he finds two bodyguards smoking while their charge is safely in the club. He knocks their heads together before they even know he's there, takes his time with them.
By the time he's done, he's racing with the fire of fresh blood inside him, lust and rage spiraling through him. He rises, fists clenching and unclenching in a vain effort to keep it under control. But his senses are heightened with the strength, and he can smell them…both Eliot and Marquez…he can feel Eliot--trapped, angry, hurting--there's fear there too, a taste of guilt and hatred.
Nate stalks the last distance to the side entrance of the building, in a non-descript door and down a flight of stairs. He pauses in the shadows at the bottom, sizing up the length of the hallway to the door where two vampires stand guard. He turns the earpiece on long enough to say, "I'm here," so Hardison knows he's okay, then turns it off again, takes it out and puts it in his pocket.
Hardison can't help him with what comes next, and Parker and Sophie can only help him pick up the pieces when it's over. He bares his teeth to prove himself at the door, slides into the dark entryway of the club and lets his eyes adjust.
All in all there are maybe fifteen vampires in the club, most adorned with a human pet or two. He should have expected London would have a big enough population to support a club like this. It's a good city for his kind.
Music keeps the conversations private, pounding out from hidden speakers at a volume that would keep human ears confounded and make vampire ears work to get beyond the noise.
The smell is stronger here. Eliot is in this room somewhere. Though finding him isn't as easy as looking for him. The dark was punctuated only with various red and blue neon lights, and the booths along the walls were recessed, hiding their occupants.
Nate runs his tongue over his teeth, fangs still extended. "Nathan." The voice is low, under the music, under the din and it turns his head. There. A booth on the left. He sees her move, lift her glass in salute.
Nate moves deeper into the club, feels eyes follow him. There's a feeling of caution in the air. These vampires don't know him, and he doesn't know them. He moves past the bar, along the line of booths, adjusting his count as he goes. Perhaps twenty five in all.
He follows the scent, seething. He sees Marquez before he sees Eliot, hissing as he stops beside the booth, shoving the table into Marquez and his companions to pin them into the booth.
"I have to say, I didn't expect to see you." Marquez says after a few minutes. "Come for a little taste?" He holds up a glass filled with blood while the vampires with him chuckle. "It's fresh." He lifts a tube that is still dripping blood and Nate's eyes follow it up behind Marquez to the cage.
Eliot is on his knees, heavily cuffed hands dragging the floor of the cage, his eyes closed as he leans into the bars. The tube ends in the crook of his elbow where a needle digs into him.
Nate growls in the back of his throat shoving the table a little harder. Eliot's eyes flicker open, focusing slowly on Nate. "I'm here to take back my property. He belongs to me."
Marquez raises an eyebrow. "Not if you ask him. He tells me he belongs to no one. Or he did…until I shut him up."
Nate has to pull back the fury before he can speak again. "Get up. I'm issuing you a challenge. You violated my bond with him, stole him. Under the Code you owe me blood."
The smile drips off of his face and becomes a sneer. "No one has followed the Code since the clan wars ended. Go away before I have you handled."
One of the vampires in the booth with Marquez hisses. "We follow the Code here, Marquez. You have been issued a challenge, either answer it or be branded a coward."
"The Code is antiquated nonsense that led us nearly into extinction." Marquez counters.
"And the anarchy of abandoning it has led us to lawlessness," a soft voice says at Nate's elbow. Suddenly the music stops and the eyes of everyone in the club is on their corner. "I am Genevieve, of the Alexander clan. A challenge has been issued. As elder I will validate the challenge."
There's a shuffling sound behind them as the whole club clears a space in the center of the floor. "Let him up, Nathan. He can not respond to a challenge while pinned to his seat."
Slowly, Nate relinquishes his hold on the table, backing away and peeling off his jacket. He can feel Eliot's eyes following him, but cannot spare more than a look as Marquez rises. Growling as he too sheds his outer layer of clothes.
"I'm going to make you wish you'd died in that desert." Marquez spits at him as they circle each other.
Nate smiles. "I'm going to make you dead. Er." He laughs at his own joke, almost wishing he'd kept the earpiece on so Hardison could hear.
Genevieve moves between them, holding up her hands. "A blood challenge has been issued. The matter will be settled here before these witnesses. All Code rules will be obeyed. No weapons, no assistance, winner takes all."
She's no sooner stepped out of the way than Marquez is charging at him. Nate lets him come, stepping aside at the last second and striking out with a fist that catches him in the throat.
Marquez doesn't go down, though he sputters and growls and grabs Nate by the shoulder, throwing him into a table. Drinks scatter and go flying as Nate pushes himself off the table and they close in on each other again. Both of them are in full vampire form, fangs extended, eyes black, brows raised, nails sharp. Nate growls and revels in the feeling. It isn't something he allows himself often.
Instincts take over, his vision narrows to Marquez as they clash. Fists pound, both of them hissing and growling as they connect. Nate's fist lands under Marquez's chin, but he takes a fist in the ribs at the same time. Bones crack and they stumble apart, only to come back together.
Nails rake down his arm, and Nate yells before using his head to break his opponent's nose. Blood splatters over them both and Marquez screams, his hand grabbing Nate by the hair, nails digging into his scalp as his other fist slams into Nate's face until Nate grabs his arm.
Nate has Marquez by the wrist, yanking him off balance, despite the hand still in his air, teeth bared as he forces the wrist toward his mouth. His bite is vicious. Blood flows into him and he bites again and again until the hand is dangling by nothing but tendons. He lets go of the arm then, grabbing the hand and yanking to the sound of Marquez screaming.
There's a frenzy in the crowd as Nate tosses the hand and pulls away from Marquez who is staggering and holding his bloody stump up against his body. "I'm going to fucking kill you." Marquez spits and Nate can't help the grin on his face.
"With your bare hands? Oh, sorry. I mean hand."
Marquez screams again and comes after him, though his pace is off and his balance seems to be gone as he staggers. "Blood loss getting to you?" Nate taunts as he moves out of reach. Nate ducks a punch, comes up under his reach, hands closing in the front of his shirt to drag him in close. "I'm gonna bleed you dry." His teeth puncture skin and he pulls on the wound, dragging blood out into his mouth before turning and spitting it onto the ground, leaving the wound leaking.
Nate lets him go, lets him stagger back, slipping in the blood on the floor. Marquez wipes at the bloody wound on his neck with his remaining hand and glares at Nate as he moves.
"You should have heard the way he moaned for me when I took him." Marquez says. "Got hard for me when I beat him…he liked it when I cut him open and licked him clean."
Nate tracks his movements, watches as the blood loss weakens him. Let him keep talking…time is on his side now. There's a ruffle through the crowd and Nate feels icy fire plunge into him, turns, but Genevieve is already there, the red-headed associate of his enemy on her knees, Genevieve's blade at her throat.
Nate pulls the knife from his ribs and presses a hand to the messy wound. "Code law has been violated." Genevieve says into the silence just before the blade flashes and the red-head's eyes go dead as Genevieve separates her head from her body. "Continue."
Blood runs down his side now and Marquez is laughing. "How's your blood loss?"
"I've got enough left in me to finish this."
"Then let's finish it."
The first blows are fast and furious, both of them pulling on their last resources to try to over come the other. Nate is tiring, the fury not enough anymore to keep him going. The smell of blood is all over them both, the slick floor treacherous as they fight, fall.
Nate gets a knee on Marquez's elbow, pinning the arm down as he punches him repeatedly about the face. He isn't moving anymore and still Nate pounds on him, until a small hand touches him.
"Nathan."
His beating slows and he blinks, looking up. "It is over."
Nate looks down at the bloody face under him, bones broken and protruding from the skin. Genevieve's hand pats his shoulder and she raises her face to the room. "The matter is settled. The Code has been satisfied. Let it be known that all that belonged to the fallen now belongs to the victor."
Nate shakes his head. It isn't over. Not yet. He stands, bends to fist a hand in Marquez's hair, his foot on the vampire's shoulder. Teeth bared, he pours the last of his strength into his hands and pulls.
Skin and bone make a sickening sound as they tear and Nate staggers back as the head comes loose. He holds it up, then drops it to the sticky floor. "Now it's over."
The crowd parts for him as he moves back to the booth, back to Eliot.
"Eliot." Nate's voice sounds broken and rusted, but Eliot's eyes open, find him.
"Nate?" Eliot's voice is broken grass and gravel. Nate wrenches the door of the cage open, catching Eliot's weight as he falls forward. "Must be dreamin'."
Nate cradles Eliot's body to him, sitting on the bench and minding the tube still dangling from his arm, the valve crimping it the only thing keeping Eliot from bleeding out. "No dream. It's me. I'm gong to get you to a hospital, okay? You're going to be fine."
Nate fishes the earpiece out of his pocket, his fingers trembling as he works on getting it turned on and into his ear. "Hardison, I'm done here. We're coming out."
"Eliot?"
Nate looks down at Eliot, his eyes closed again. "He's going to be okay. He has to be." Nate looks up at the others who are staring at him now. "Eliot, can you walk?"
"Get these things off me." Eliot says, weakly moving his hands. Nate reaches for the locks, growling. "I don't have the keys."
"Allow me."
Nate looks up at one of the men who had been with Marquez. In his hands was a key that he used to open the locks. "We had arranged a transaction…which is now, of course, void."
"Thank you." Nate helps Eliot get his feet on the ground and pushes them both up off the bench. The crowd parts as they limp through them, leaning on each other. Eliot groans as they reach the stairs.
"Really?"
Nate chuckles, wincing as the wound in his side pulls. "Really…but Sophie and Parker are waiting at the top."
It's a struggle, and Eliot's nearly unconscious by the time they reach the top, but when Nate gets the door open, Sophie's there, already reaching in to help him. Together they maneuver Eliot into the van, laying him as gently as they can on the pile of blankets before pulling the door closed. Parker has them moving before the door is shut and Nate sinks to a seat on the floor beside Eliot, swallowing slowly.
"Marquez?" Sophie asks soft, though her eyes are on Eliot, assessing his wounds.
"Gone. Dead." Nate responds. "Never to bother us again."
"Good. What about you?"
Nate considers that for a moment. He's plenty beat up, and still bleeding, but all of that would heal eventually. "I'll live."
"We brought you a change of clothes and a first aid kit." Parker says after she's parked the van outside the nearest hospital and is crawling back beside him. "Cooler's in the front seat. Get back to the hotel, get some rest. We'll see to Eliot."
Nate looks at her in surprise. "I'm staying with Eliot."
She flicks him on the forehead. "Vampire. Hospital." She points out the window at the hospital. "Blood everywhere. You're about to pass out. You want to wake up in their morgue?" She shivers and shakes her head. "Trust me, not a good idea."
"We've got him, Nate." Sophie says softly. "We'll make sure he's safe."
Nate shakes his head, tries to argue, but Eliot opens his eyes. There's a plea there in the blue depths, and Nate nods. "Fine, but I expect an update as soon as you know anything."
He lets them go, the two women supporting Eliot between them and he tries not to panic when they disappear behind the hospital doors. He knows Parker is right, that going in there in the shape he's in would wind up with him waking up in the morgue at the very least. The other options weren't very appealing either.
So he did what Parker told him to do…bandaged up his wounds, changed his clothes, drank the blood and whiskey she'd brought him and headed for the hotel. Hardison opened the door as he got there, but thankfully said nothing as Nate stumbled past him into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.
It was over. All that was left was the recovery….which maybe meant it was just getting started.
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Nine (Story Index)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison, Parker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5421
Summary: The team finally finds a lead, and a new/old ally and Nate risks everything to get Eliot back.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual,
havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense. Apparently this fic has taken over my brain. I've written close to 30000 words since I started on this. That number includes tidbits that were posted to comment_fic but have not yet made it into the bigger story.Shiny, pretty artwork was sent to me today by
raggedy_edge"You know, this thing with Eliot…I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to do this to anyone."
Nate's voice, filled with guilt and pain rolls around in his head.
He didn't want this. Eliot hears it different. Nate never wanted him.
He grabs onto the thought, lets it pull him out of himself, out of the pain, out of himself. Marquez knows how to work a man, knows how to take him to the limits of his endurance and pull back just enough to keep him from blacking out…because what fun is a victim who can't feel what you're doing to him?
Nate had said the words, said that he didn't want this. Eliot knew that…it was obvious in the way the man shied away anytime Eliot got too close, crossed a line. Nate had said that they weren't friends. But Eliot did what Eliot always does, because he can't take no. Can't take that passive rejection.
He pushed and manhandled and forced until he got what he wanted... consequences be damned. He'd pushed Nate into this twisted, wrong, fucked up thing because Eliot couldn't let the power go, not once he knew the truth.
And this is where it led them.
Eliot pants through the next set of blows, low over his ass and thighs, sharp pain lancing through him as the skin opens, then the warm comfort of a tongue laving over them…the anticipation for the bite that isn't coming…not just yet. Marquez isn't done with him.
He thinks maybe this is better…for Nate anyway…cuts him loose, frees him from the obligation Eliot forced on him. Nate would get over the need, get past the craving...he'd forget...except…
He's not expecting the tongue on his split lip, his eyes closed tight against the sharp lights on him. It presses against the wound, makes it bleed again, then lips close around it and he sucks the lip into his mouth, pulling more blood from him. Eliot grunts and tries to pull back, but his bindings won't let him move.
Eliot had told him to come, told Nate to find him...and Nate, fucking stubborn bastard that he was, would…he wouldn't let it rest until he had. Even if that meant getting himself killed.
Eliot lost the thought, lost everything but the memory of Nate's hand in his hair, his mouth on his neck, as the pain became too much to block out. Marquez was done with his lip, moving back to his marked up ass. The cat o'nine tails ripped another set of holes into his skin, digging deeper than before. He held his voice, wouldn't give the fucking bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Not yet...not yet...
When the bite finally comes, it is on Eliot's thigh. Eliot pants through the orgasm, fighting to hold on, but eventually Marquez drinks enough that his ability to do anything fades and the black claims him.
"Nate?" He growls and pulls the blankets back over his head, hiding from the light, from sobriety, from the memory of what had happened. He doesn't want to be bothered, talked to, doesn't want to deal with anyone, least of all her.
There's frantic whispering though, her and Parker and Nate shifts enough to peer out from under the blanket. Sophie pushes Parker toward him. "I…um. This came for you."
She holds out her hand and the box in it. Nate shifts, sits up and reaches for it tentatively. The label is made out to Nathan Ford, but no one should know where he is. His free hand fumbles on the nightstand for the last of the whiskey he'd left there before passing out, draining the bottle and tossing it aside before turning to the box.
Its wrapped tight in brown paper and tape. He can't smell explosives or anything though so he carefully opens one side, sliding a small box out of the paper. Inside the box is a sealed container. Nate lifts it slowly, eyes narrowing. There's no label, no note. Just the container.
Just as slowly, he opens that, wishing instantly that he hadn't. The smell of Eliot assaults him even before the lid is fully off the container and his cock is hard, his body needy. Eliot's come fills the small jar, taunting him. He closes it quickly and fights to get control of himself.
"What is it?" Sophie asks tentatively from near the doorway.
"A message." Nate grinds out. He swallows and fights the urge to throw the damn thing. "From Marquez." Obviously all their moving around hadn't hidden them from Marquez. Once again Nate had underestimated him. He climbed out of bed, noting the way Parker danced out of his way and Sophie took a step backwards. "Somebody tell me something good."
Things are not good. Eliot can tell even before he opens his eyes. More of the restraints are gone. Which would normally mean a better chance at escape, but he'd left normal the day he'd let some aerospace freak talk him into working on a team with two other thieves and Nate.
Fewer restraints meant Marquez didn't see him as much of a threat anymore.
Eliot opens his eyes, takes in the room. He's been moved again. This place is smaller, with bars. He's on the floor, on his side. His back and ass are raw and stiff when he moves.
His feet are free, the butt plug and its harness to his balls and cock gone. His hands are bound in front of him now, in giant, heavy cuffs of black leather and steel. True to his word, Marquez had left the collar as well.
At least for the moment, he's alone. In the vague light he can see the marks on his skin, the measure of his torment. He wonders how long it will be before Marquez gets bored.
He shifts, up to his knees, which protest, the scabbed skin breaking open. He manages to get to his feet, but it makes him feel light headed and woozy, sending him back against the wall.
Dirty, stringy hair falls into his face, reminding him just how long this has gone on. Days…weeks even. Long enough that the earliest wounds have healed. He doesn't really have a way to measure…He stumbles down the wall, mapping out the size of the room, but before he can get all the way to the door, the weight of the restraints on his wrists pulls him down.
The door opens, bright light falling into the room and over Eliot's body. A shadow blocks the light, then Marquez is squatting beside him. His hand holds Eliot's chin, turns his face. "Get him cleaned up. I want him ready in an hour."
He is gone and the door closed before Eliot can piece the words together and understand them. Ready for what, he didn't know, but a few minutes later two of the big guys were there, pulling him to his feet and dragging him out of the room, into another where they lifted his hands and secured the cuffs over his head, leaving him dangling where his feet barely touched the floor.
The water spray was harsh, pounding into him, slamming him around. They hosed him down, then soaped him up and hosed him down again before leaving him there to dry.
A few minutes later, his feet are on the ground and he's escorted into yet another room where a man in a lab coat looks him over and gestures to a chair. His handlers drop Eliot into the chair and keep him there while the lab-coat prepares a syringe.
"Hey doc, gonna patch me up?" Eliot's voice is raw from disuse, or maybe from the screams Marquez had managed to rip out of him despite his will to stay silent.
"Well, I'm sure this will make you feel better for a little while, son, but it isn't for you." The needle bites into him, cold leeching into him as the plunger was pushed in. "Tell Mr. Marquez that he has to give it time, not to go jumping in right away."
And with that, Eliot was up and out of the chair, being pushed back into the hallway and up a flight of stairs to where Marquez was waiting. He smiled that sick, twisted smile and held up a long piece of leather. "Time to put the pet on a leash." His hand came up with the leash, snapping it onto the collar. "Now see that you're a good pet and maybe I'll let you show everyone how pretty you bleed."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"You volunteering to come with me?" Nate asks, not really looking at her.
"We really should talk."
Nate finishes buttoning his shirt and shakes his head. "No, Sophie. We don't. It was wrong. It isn't going to happen again. End of story."
"I meant about you going in there like this. Alone."
Nate lifts his earpiece, checking it before sliding it in. "Hardison, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear."
"See, not alone."
"That's not what I mean."
Nate turns to look at her. "You heard what Hardison said. Only vampires are getting in the door. Last time I checked, you aren't one."
"Surely you must know some other—"
Nate growls and storms around her, out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. He stops cold there though, and Sophie plows into him from behind. Parker looks particularly pleased with herself. Hardison on the other hand looks more than a little green. Not that Nate can blame him, the poor boy is just getting used to there being vampires at all, let alone one so close and here was another.
"Hello Nathan."
She's smaller than he remembers, petite, almost diminutive. Her hair is shorter, and darker, her skin paler, her eyes bluer. "Genevieve."
For the moment he can forget the others, forget everything except what she had given him, all those years ago…the way her tiny hand had held him, soothing him before she'd bitten.
"Leave us." Despite her size, Genevieve has the air of a queen, regal and commanding and none of them hesitate, crowding out through the door into one of the bedrooms. "Quite some team you have there."
"Yeah, they're great." Nate crossed his arms. "Why exactly are you here?"
"Parker called me. Said you might need some help."
"Don't you think you've helped me enough?" Nate shakes his head. He hadn't meant that the way it sounded.
"I gave you a choice Nathan. You chose to become exactly what you are." She looks him over. "I'm here because I could tell, even on the phone, that Parker actually cares what happens to you. I don't know how long you've known Parker, but that's a rare thing for her. Made me think maybe you're in just a little over your head."
She waved him to a seat. "You make me nervous hovering like that. Sit."
"I thought it was your policy not to get involved in the politics of others." Nate said, sitting on the couch and making a show of trying to relax, even though he was humming with need to get out on the streets.
"It still is, but you are one of mine…and…it's bad form to steal a human from another vampire. In the old days, it would have gotten you staked out in the Sahara to watch the sunrise." She folded her hands in her lap. "So, Marquez is a bad piece of work and his appetites will foul us all eventually. He leaves a trail of bodies behind him."
"Is that your way of justifying being here?" Nate asks with a chuckle. "I haven't seen you since you turned me."
"I can go now if you like, leave you to it." She sits forward in the chair. "But I promise you, that if I do, you kiss your Eliot and your own ass goodbye."
Nate forces himself to calm himself, to meet her gaze. "Better. Now I can tell you've been feeding. That's good. I promise you that Marquez feeds daily, several times a day, and not just on your boy. You're going to need strength if you're going to go after him."
"I've never been so strong." Nate assures her. "Never felt like this."
"I hope so, because once you've started, you can't stop. You have to take him and you have to kill him, or he will kill you. But…" She sits back in the chair, hands once again folded in her lap. "…you will have to play by the rules. If I am going to intervene, there can be no hint of dirty play…"
"Intervene? How?"
Her smile is delightfully wicked. "Call him out. In front of the others, and I will see to it that no one else gets involved. Old fashioned challenge, old fashioned rules, old fashioned judge."
"What is it you're getting out of this?" Nate asks, genuinely curious.
"Revenge, if you win. Marquez is the offspring of an old rival. All the rest are gone. He's the last." She stands, looks him over once more. "You'd better feed well before you go. And I hope you've learned how to throw a punch or two. All that rage will only get you so far."
The sound and lights are overwhelming and Eliot stumbles as he follows Marquez into the darkened corner of what seems to be a nightclub, not unlike the one where they found Marquez in the first place…only this was clearly a place only for vampires and their pets. Each booth was deep with shadows and above and behind it was a cage.
Eliot bucks when it becomes clear that the cage is where Marquez means to put him, putting up a fight for the first time since he gave himself up. Two of Marquez's men grab him and lift him, shoving him into the cage and shutting the door before he can get himself together to attempt to get out.
Marquez sits in the booth, thanking a waitress who drops off a glass of something. Eliot fumes inside the cage, his eyes skimming over the room.
"You know, the last person who kept me entertained as long as you have is now my assistant." Marquez says, though he doesn't look at Eliot. "You've met her, Alison? The red-head. I put her in the cage and she stood there proud as all hell, naked and marked up from my cane and whips and teeth. She couldn't speak her throat was so stripped from screaming, and she had to hold on to the bars to keep from falling down…but damn it was a sight."
Marquez lifts his drink and sips at it. "Honestly I figured you'd break before now. Maybe I'm losing my edge."
Eliot's hands grasp the bars and he wills himself out of the crouch he's in, standing slowly.
"You like that little cocktail the doc gave you? My own special blend. A little bit of me, some vitamins, some drugs to make you feel a little more yourself…helps close up some of the wounds, make you more presentable. Of course, the buyers coming to visit tonight think all the marking proves you're valuable, so not too much of the stuff."
Marquez stands as two other men approach. Eliot can feel their eyes on him, weighing him. He's slow to put it together, Marquez's words with this place, these people.
Marquez means to sell him. Eliot doesn't even know if that's a good thing or worse than waiting for Marquez to just kill him.
"Hardison?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"I'm about a block away."
"Sophie and Parker are finishing up. They'll be waiting at the rendezvous as planned."
"I'm going silent."
"Don't get dead. Er. Don’t get deader." Hardison is still rambling when Nate plucks the earpiece and sticks it in his pocket.
The last thing he needs was Hardison's voice in his head while he prepares to go in after Eliot. And that's exactly what this is. Preparing. It is almost like getting into character for a con, only this is no con.
Nate stops in the shadows of a hulking warehouse, pulling the container from his pocket. Just touching it makes him angry, but he forces himself to open it slowly, letting the smell of Eliot's come fill the air around him, breathing in deeply to trigger the sense memory.
Eliot's skin flushes under his hands, his mouth open as Nate presses into him, his head tipped back in offering as they grind together, closer and closer until Eliot's breathing is coming in pants and his body is trembling. Nate's kisses over sweaty skin become licks, and nips and finally he bites, drinking in deeply as Eliot's cock erupts.
That moment belongs to Nate, that feeling, that release….all of it was his. And Marquez had stolen it. Twisted it into some sick parody. Nate's hands shake as he closes the container. He's hungry, needy. The anger uncoils inside him like a snake, slithering through him until it flushes his skin with an artificial warmth.
He can smell his prey, doesn't think about who he is or why he's out here. Can't let himself be distracted by morality. Nate moves, closer to his target…finds him, drunk, reeking of liquor and cigarettes as he leans against a wall, peeing. He doesn't hear Nate, doesn't know he's about to die.
He doesn't make a sound except for the dull thud when Nate drops the body. Nate leaves him there and starts toward the address where the underground club is hidden under some factory. Cars line the otherwise deserted streets as he gets closer.
He takes a driver, asleep at the wheel of his owner's car. Nearly to the door of the club he finds two bodyguards smoking while their charge is safely in the club. He knocks their heads together before they even know he's there, takes his time with them.
By the time he's done, he's racing with the fire of fresh blood inside him, lust and rage spiraling through him. He rises, fists clenching and unclenching in a vain effort to keep it under control. But his senses are heightened with the strength, and he can smell them…both Eliot and Marquez…he can feel Eliot--trapped, angry, hurting--there's fear there too, a taste of guilt and hatred.
Nate stalks the last distance to the side entrance of the building, in a non-descript door and down a flight of stairs. He pauses in the shadows at the bottom, sizing up the length of the hallway to the door where two vampires stand guard. He turns the earpiece on long enough to say, "I'm here," so Hardison knows he's okay, then turns it off again, takes it out and puts it in his pocket.
Hardison can't help him with what comes next, and Parker and Sophie can only help him pick up the pieces when it's over. He bares his teeth to prove himself at the door, slides into the dark entryway of the club and lets his eyes adjust.
All in all there are maybe fifteen vampires in the club, most adorned with a human pet or two. He should have expected London would have a big enough population to support a club like this. It's a good city for his kind.
Music keeps the conversations private, pounding out from hidden speakers at a volume that would keep human ears confounded and make vampire ears work to get beyond the noise.
The smell is stronger here. Eliot is in this room somewhere. Though finding him isn't as easy as looking for him. The dark was punctuated only with various red and blue neon lights, and the booths along the walls were recessed, hiding their occupants.
Nate runs his tongue over his teeth, fangs still extended. "Nathan." The voice is low, under the music, under the din and it turns his head. There. A booth on the left. He sees her move, lift her glass in salute.
Nate moves deeper into the club, feels eyes follow him. There's a feeling of caution in the air. These vampires don't know him, and he doesn't know them. He moves past the bar, along the line of booths, adjusting his count as he goes. Perhaps twenty five in all.
He follows the scent, seething. He sees Marquez before he sees Eliot, hissing as he stops beside the booth, shoving the table into Marquez and his companions to pin them into the booth.
"I have to say, I didn't expect to see you." Marquez says after a few minutes. "Come for a little taste?" He holds up a glass filled with blood while the vampires with him chuckle. "It's fresh." He lifts a tube that is still dripping blood and Nate's eyes follow it up behind Marquez to the cage.
Eliot is on his knees, heavily cuffed hands dragging the floor of the cage, his eyes closed as he leans into the bars. The tube ends in the crook of his elbow where a needle digs into him.
Nate growls in the back of his throat shoving the table a little harder. Eliot's eyes flicker open, focusing slowly on Nate. "I'm here to take back my property. He belongs to me."
Marquez raises an eyebrow. "Not if you ask him. He tells me he belongs to no one. Or he did…until I shut him up."
Nate has to pull back the fury before he can speak again. "Get up. I'm issuing you a challenge. You violated my bond with him, stole him. Under the Code you owe me blood."
The smile drips off of his face and becomes a sneer. "No one has followed the Code since the clan wars ended. Go away before I have you handled."
One of the vampires in the booth with Marquez hisses. "We follow the Code here, Marquez. You have been issued a challenge, either answer it or be branded a coward."
"The Code is antiquated nonsense that led us nearly into extinction." Marquez counters.
"And the anarchy of abandoning it has led us to lawlessness," a soft voice says at Nate's elbow. Suddenly the music stops and the eyes of everyone in the club is on their corner. "I am Genevieve, of the Alexander clan. A challenge has been issued. As elder I will validate the challenge."
There's a shuffling sound behind them as the whole club clears a space in the center of the floor. "Let him up, Nathan. He can not respond to a challenge while pinned to his seat."
Slowly, Nate relinquishes his hold on the table, backing away and peeling off his jacket. He can feel Eliot's eyes following him, but cannot spare more than a look as Marquez rises. Growling as he too sheds his outer layer of clothes.
"I'm going to make you wish you'd died in that desert." Marquez spits at him as they circle each other.
Nate smiles. "I'm going to make you dead. Er." He laughs at his own joke, almost wishing he'd kept the earpiece on so Hardison could hear.
Genevieve moves between them, holding up her hands. "A blood challenge has been issued. The matter will be settled here before these witnesses. All Code rules will be obeyed. No weapons, no assistance, winner takes all."
She's no sooner stepped out of the way than Marquez is charging at him. Nate lets him come, stepping aside at the last second and striking out with a fist that catches him in the throat.
Marquez doesn't go down, though he sputters and growls and grabs Nate by the shoulder, throwing him into a table. Drinks scatter and go flying as Nate pushes himself off the table and they close in on each other again. Both of them are in full vampire form, fangs extended, eyes black, brows raised, nails sharp. Nate growls and revels in the feeling. It isn't something he allows himself often.
Instincts take over, his vision narrows to Marquez as they clash. Fists pound, both of them hissing and growling as they connect. Nate's fist lands under Marquez's chin, but he takes a fist in the ribs at the same time. Bones crack and they stumble apart, only to come back together.
Nails rake down his arm, and Nate yells before using his head to break his opponent's nose. Blood splatters over them both and Marquez screams, his hand grabbing Nate by the hair, nails digging into his scalp as his other fist slams into Nate's face until Nate grabs his arm.
Nate has Marquez by the wrist, yanking him off balance, despite the hand still in his air, teeth bared as he forces the wrist toward his mouth. His bite is vicious. Blood flows into him and he bites again and again until the hand is dangling by nothing but tendons. He lets go of the arm then, grabbing the hand and yanking to the sound of Marquez screaming.
There's a frenzy in the crowd as Nate tosses the hand and pulls away from Marquez who is staggering and holding his bloody stump up against his body. "I'm going to fucking kill you." Marquez spits and Nate can't help the grin on his face.
"With your bare hands? Oh, sorry. I mean hand."
Marquez screams again and comes after him, though his pace is off and his balance seems to be gone as he staggers. "Blood loss getting to you?" Nate taunts as he moves out of reach. Nate ducks a punch, comes up under his reach, hands closing in the front of his shirt to drag him in close. "I'm gonna bleed you dry." His teeth puncture skin and he pulls on the wound, dragging blood out into his mouth before turning and spitting it onto the ground, leaving the wound leaking.
Nate lets him go, lets him stagger back, slipping in the blood on the floor. Marquez wipes at the bloody wound on his neck with his remaining hand and glares at Nate as he moves.
"You should have heard the way he moaned for me when I took him." Marquez says. "Got hard for me when I beat him…he liked it when I cut him open and licked him clean."
Nate tracks his movements, watches as the blood loss weakens him. Let him keep talking…time is on his side now. There's a ruffle through the crowd and Nate feels icy fire plunge into him, turns, but Genevieve is already there, the red-headed associate of his enemy on her knees, Genevieve's blade at her throat.
Nate pulls the knife from his ribs and presses a hand to the messy wound. "Code law has been violated." Genevieve says into the silence just before the blade flashes and the red-head's eyes go dead as Genevieve separates her head from her body. "Continue."
Blood runs down his side now and Marquez is laughing. "How's your blood loss?"
"I've got enough left in me to finish this."
"Then let's finish it."
The first blows are fast and furious, both of them pulling on their last resources to try to over come the other. Nate is tiring, the fury not enough anymore to keep him going. The smell of blood is all over them both, the slick floor treacherous as they fight, fall.
Nate gets a knee on Marquez's elbow, pinning the arm down as he punches him repeatedly about the face. He isn't moving anymore and still Nate pounds on him, until a small hand touches him.
"Nathan."
His beating slows and he blinks, looking up. "It is over."
Nate looks down at the bloody face under him, bones broken and protruding from the skin. Genevieve's hand pats his shoulder and she raises her face to the room. "The matter is settled. The Code has been satisfied. Let it be known that all that belonged to the fallen now belongs to the victor."
Nate shakes his head. It isn't over. Not yet. He stands, bends to fist a hand in Marquez's hair, his foot on the vampire's shoulder. Teeth bared, he pours the last of his strength into his hands and pulls.
Skin and bone make a sickening sound as they tear and Nate staggers back as the head comes loose. He holds it up, then drops it to the sticky floor. "Now it's over."
The crowd parts for him as he moves back to the booth, back to Eliot.
"Eliot." Nate's voice sounds broken and rusted, but Eliot's eyes open, find him.
"Nate?" Eliot's voice is broken grass and gravel. Nate wrenches the door of the cage open, catching Eliot's weight as he falls forward. "Must be dreamin'."
Nate cradles Eliot's body to him, sitting on the bench and minding the tube still dangling from his arm, the valve crimping it the only thing keeping Eliot from bleeding out. "No dream. It's me. I'm gong to get you to a hospital, okay? You're going to be fine."
Nate fishes the earpiece out of his pocket, his fingers trembling as he works on getting it turned on and into his ear. "Hardison, I'm done here. We're coming out."
"Eliot?"
Nate looks down at Eliot, his eyes closed again. "He's going to be okay. He has to be." Nate looks up at the others who are staring at him now. "Eliot, can you walk?"
"Get these things off me." Eliot says, weakly moving his hands. Nate reaches for the locks, growling. "I don't have the keys."
"Allow me."
Nate looks up at one of the men who had been with Marquez. In his hands was a key that he used to open the locks. "We had arranged a transaction…which is now, of course, void."
"Thank you." Nate helps Eliot get his feet on the ground and pushes them both up off the bench. The crowd parts as they limp through them, leaning on each other. Eliot groans as they reach the stairs.
"Really?"
Nate chuckles, wincing as the wound in his side pulls. "Really…but Sophie and Parker are waiting at the top."
It's a struggle, and Eliot's nearly unconscious by the time they reach the top, but when Nate gets the door open, Sophie's there, already reaching in to help him. Together they maneuver Eliot into the van, laying him as gently as they can on the pile of blankets before pulling the door closed. Parker has them moving before the door is shut and Nate sinks to a seat on the floor beside Eliot, swallowing slowly.
"Marquez?" Sophie asks soft, though her eyes are on Eliot, assessing his wounds.
"Gone. Dead." Nate responds. "Never to bother us again."
"Good. What about you?"
Nate considers that for a moment. He's plenty beat up, and still bleeding, but all of that would heal eventually. "I'll live."
"We brought you a change of clothes and a first aid kit." Parker says after she's parked the van outside the nearest hospital and is crawling back beside him. "Cooler's in the front seat. Get back to the hotel, get some rest. We'll see to Eliot."
Nate looks at her in surprise. "I'm staying with Eliot."
She flicks him on the forehead. "Vampire. Hospital." She points out the window at the hospital. "Blood everywhere. You're about to pass out. You want to wake up in their morgue?" She shivers and shakes her head. "Trust me, not a good idea."
"We've got him, Nate." Sophie says softly. "We'll make sure he's safe."
Nate shakes his head, tries to argue, but Eliot opens his eyes. There's a plea there in the blue depths, and Nate nods. "Fine, but I expect an update as soon as you know anything."
He lets them go, the two women supporting Eliot between them and he tries not to panic when they disappear behind the hospital doors. He knows Parker is right, that going in there in the shape he's in would wind up with him waking up in the morgue at the very least. The other options weren't very appealing either.
So he did what Parker told him to do…bandaged up his wounds, changed his clothes, drank the blood and whiskey she'd brought him and headed for the hotel. Hardison opened the door as he got there, but thankfully said nothing as Nate stumbled past him into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.
It was over. All that was left was the recovery….which maybe meant it was just getting started.
