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phantismaFandom: Leverage
Title: Unfinished Business, Part 3 (first part is here, second part here because apparently this forgot it was a one shot)
Characters/Pairings: Nate, Eliot, Parker, Sophie, Hardison (sort of Nate/Eliot pre-slash), OFC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3393
Summary: Eliot wakes up in the hospital to an angry Parker, a protective Sophie and an absent Nate. When he decides he's had enough of no one telling him what's going on, he finds that maybe Nate has reasons beyond him for staying away.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is still pre/slash, and difficult boys being...well...difficult boys. Still a pretty beat up Eliot with emotional issues to boot.
The last thing he remembered clearly was shoving Nate out of the way. Everything after that got a little hazy and out of order. He remembered Nate talking, broken with bits of fighting and hot, then cold. It felt wrong, disconnected somehow.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the bright glare. Panic flared through him for a moment before he recognized he was in a hospital room. Which meant whatever had gone done had gone bad. He blinked, turning his head.
Parker was sitting in the chair nearby, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes closed as she leaned on her knees. Eliot cleared his throat and her eyes popped open. "Oh! You're awake."
She unfolded and stood, reaching for him and then pulling back before she'd even touched him. "You…I should get a doctor."
Eliot reached his hand out and she stopped. "Nate?"
Her whole face crinkled up and she was gone before he figured out what that meant. Anger. Parker was angry. At Nate.
Eliot tried to reason that out, but before he did, there was a doctor with Parker. "Mr. Spencer, I'm Dr. Hanson. I'm relieved to see you're awake."
Eliot was still looking at Parker, his frown matching hers. "What's the damage, doc?"
"You took two severe lacerations to the abdomen, one of which did some internal damage. Broken rib, sprained wrist, bruises, a concussion."
Eliot lifted his right hand, and all the tubes attached to rub at the back of his head. He did remember that, hitting the ground hard. "How long have I been out?"
"Three days." Parker said before the doctor could answer.
Eliot frowned more, despite the way it made his head hurt. "Three days?" He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was more. "Where is Nate?"
Parker crinkled her nose. "I don't know."
"But he's okay?"
"He's not dead, if that's what you're asking."
"How long you keeping me?" Eliot asked the doctor, though he kept looking at Parker.
"You just came out of a coma, Mr. Spencer. I don't think you should be worried about-"
Eliot flicked his eyes to the doctor. "How long?"
"I--we'll have to wait and see."
"I don't think so." Eliot started to sit up, moving blankets off him so he could stand. His head was pounding and his side hurt, but it wasn't enough to keep him in bed, not when he wasn't getting straight answers out of Parker.
The doctor's hand on his shoulder stopped him long enough to feel the wave of fatigue and pain. "I will sedate you if I must." The doctor said it coldly.
Normally Eliot wouldn't let someone like this guy stop him, but the room was starting to spin and laying down seemed a lot more likely, even if he pushed to get up. Slowly, he let the doctor guide him down and smooth the thin hospital blanket back up over him.
"Now, as I was going to say, you are healing well, but we'll want to keep you in bed for the time being." The doctor scribbled something on his chart and smiled tightly. "I'll be back later."
Eliot rubbed at his face. "Parker--"
She sat on the bed and patted his thigh. He supposed it was meant to be soothing. "We were worried."
"We were?" Eliot really wasn't in a mood to deal with Parker's oddities. "Is Nate okay?"
She must have realized he wasn't going to let it go, her shoulders sagging. "He nearly got you killed." She did that thing with her mouth, pursing her lips and then pressing them together, that she did when she didn't want to answer something. "Last time I saw him he was fine. Okay, maybe not fine. He was a mess, hungover, dirty…all disheveled. I wasn't very nice to him."
"This wasn't his fault, Parker." Eliot said as understanding dawned. "He didn't do this."
She crossed her arms, her eyebrows bunched together as she scowled at him. "He's been drunk since Miami. Nearly killed Hardison because he lost track of the mark in Pittsburgh."
Eliot understood that at least. Nate had been drinking an awful lot since the job in Miami. And Eliot had told him then, in front of everybody that he wasn't going to go down with him, and here he was in a hospital bed. He exhaled slowly and reached for her hand. He wanted to make her understand, but whatever injuries he had and drugs were getting pumped into him, he was drowsy.
"Told him a while ago to call me…told him I'd come for him. He called. I went. Stupid fight. Knife. Not his fault."
His eyes were closing despite his efforts to keep them open. Before he could tell if she'd heard him, he was asleep again.
The room was dim the next time he was awake, the only light coming in through the open door from the hallway and the display of the monitor beside his bed. The pain seemed to have receded some as Eliot shifted and sat up a little. He wanted to stretch, but could tell his stomach muscles wouldn't like that much. His hand went to his stomach, to the thick bandages cover what he could tell was a good six or seven inch cut.
"You should be asleep."
The voice startled him and Eliot turned his head, surprised to find Nate standing in the shadows in the corner of the room. He hadn't sensed anyone else in the room.
"Nate." Eliot cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes to see into the gloom. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
He heard him take a deep breath before he stepped out of the shadow and closer to the bed. Eliot looked him up and down, half expecting bandages or bruises or something. He was dressed down, faded jeans and a sweatshirt, but he looked somehow cleaner than Eliot had seen in a while. He was clean shaven and freshly showered.
He was also pale and his hands shook as he brushed them over Eliot's arm. "I heard you woke up. I wanted to be sure you were okay."
"Heard?" He remembered Parker's face. "What's going on Nate?"
He shrugged a little, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. As long as you're going to be okay."
"I'm fine." Eliot said reflexively, brushing off the concern. Of course, they both knew that wasn't the whole truth. If he were fine, he wouldn't be here. "Talk to me."
"You nearly died. I watched them work on you."
"Nate, I'm fine." Eliot insisted, grabbing Nate's hand. "What's going on with you?"
"You wouldn't have been there if I hadn't called."
Nate didn't look at him, even when Eliot tugged on his hand. "If you hadn't called, you'd probably be dead." Eliot said. "You don't think I'm angry about this, do you?"
Nate licked his lips, but before he could say anything a nurse was coming toward them. "Visiting hours were over hours ago, Mr. Ford. I told you last night, you can't be here now."
He nodded, pulling his hand away. "It's okay, I was just leaving."
"Nate!"
"You should be sleeping." The nurse checked his chart and his IV. "You want something to help? Doctor left orders for it if you want it."
Eliot shook his head. He didn't want the groggy headedness that came with still more drugs. "I'm fine."
"You are not fine." Sophie crossed her arms and stared at him as tested the strength of his legs. "You need to be in bed."
"I need someone to give me a fucking straight answer." Eliot countered, deciding that his legs would hold him. "What is going on?"
She huffed as he shuffled toward the end of the bed. He was free of the IV after another two days of complaining to anyone who would listen that he was fine and ready to rip it out himself if he had to. Sophie grabbed the pants he was reaching for away from him.
"It's nothing for you to worry about. We're handling it."
It was his turn to cross his arms and glare. "Handling it? Handling what?" So far all he knew was that the guys who did this to him had been coming after Nate. He wasn't even sure why.
"Jack Harmon." Sophie said quietly when he made it clear that he wasn't going to let it drop.
Eliot frowned at her. He'd been frowning a lot in the last few days. "The mark from Ellicot?"
"Yes. Hardison and Parker and I are dealing with him."
Eliot snorted and turned to lean on the bed. "Without Nate?"
"Nate has been in no condition to be helpful."
"So…what? What kind of con could you possibly run on this guy? He knows us, knows our faces…"
Sophie shook her head tightly. "No con. Not this time. I said we were handling it."
"Sophie, what are you doing?"
"There he is." Hardison's voice bounced off the walls as he came in, shopping bags in both hands. "As requested, shoes, shirt, hamburger from Dino's. Everything a growing boy needs."
Sophie grabbed at the bag that obviously held clothes. "No. You're not helping him."
"I'm not staying here." Eliot said, grabbing at the bag, though she pulled it away.
Hardison's expressive face went from open and happy to a deep frown. "You said they were letting you go."
"No, I said I was done here." Eliot countered. "Give me the damn bag."
Hardison handed over the food, then backed away, hands up. "Not getting in the middle of this."
"Don't you have work to be doing?" Sophie asked, her voice darker than Eliot remembered ever hearing it.
"On it. I almost feel sorry for the man. Won't know what hit him."
Eliot pulled the hamburger out of the bag and sank back onto the bed. "Oh, he'll know, Hardison. I'll make sure of that."
When Hardison was gone Eliot looked up at Sophie. "I'm serious. I'm not staying. Give me the clothes and I won't hurt you taking them from you."
"You are a stubborn idiot."
Eliot grinned and bit into the burger. "Tell me something I don't know."
To his surprise, Sophie was actually waiting for him when he made it downstairs. He held one had across his stomach and he moved slow, but he moved and
made it out the door, despite the nurse who had tried to stop him.
He sank into the passenger seat of the car gratefully. "Take me to Nate's."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't, scowling at the steering wheel as they pulled out into traffic. "What?" Eliot asked when the silence was wearing on his nerves.
"Why?" she asked in return. "Why him?"
He was confused for a minute, then realized she was asking why he wanted to go to Nate's house. "I need to know he's okay." Eliot said in response. "He was really fucked up before this. He's blaming himself."
"He should. He should blame himself. If he could haul himself out of a bottle long enough to see what he's doing--"
Eliot touched her arm. "Stop. It isn't his fault. Not completely." He shook his head. "Maybe if you'd see past the bottle, you'd get that he doesn't need someone to take the bottle away from him. He needs someone to give him a reason to put the bottle down."
Up until Miami, Eliot had thought maybe he'd started to give Nate that. Then came the job that reminded him of all the reasons he'd climbed into a bottle to begin with. His phone call to Eliot that night had been the first time he'd reached out since.
"Is that what you are, Eliot?" Sophie asked as she stopped in front of the building. "Is that what you're thinking? That you can fix him? Fix this?"
Eliot looked up at Nate's window for a few minutes, then exhaled. "Let's just call it unfinished business, okay?" He opened the car door and stood slowly. "Thanks for the ride."
He leaned on the wall of the elevator, watching the numbers light up. He wasn't ready to give up on Nate, even if the others were. In the hours they'd spent together before Miami, Eliot had seen something in him, and he'd made the man a promise.
Okay, maybe he'd never verbalized it, but he meant it, and that was all that mattered. When he'd told Nate that he could call him any time and he'd come for him, Eliot had meant it.
He knocked on the door, leaning against the door jamb as he waited. When the door opened, Eliot blinked a little. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting to walk into, but this wasn't it.
Nate blinked back at him, seemingly struck mute by his appearance. The woman smiled at him though. "You certainly look better than the last time I saw you."
Eliot stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry, I--"
She stood and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You wouldn't remember. You were unconscious at the time."
"Ronnie is an EMT." Nate said suddenly. Eliot took a few steps into the apartment, not sure that was an invitation, but starting to really need to sit. "She was there…the night…"
Eliot nodded. "Ronnie?"
"You don't look like you should be on your feet." Her hand was gentle as she guided him to a seat in Nate's broken down recliner. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine." Eliot said. It was beginning to sound like a mantra. "Really…maybe some water?"
Nate's face was red as she left the room and Eliot kicked himself for presuming. This was going to get really awkward if he didn't find a way to extricate himself, fast.
"I should have called." Eliot said, shifting to ease the throbbing ache in his side. "Sorry."
Nate paced a little, looking up when Ronnie came back with a glass of water. "You should be in the hospital still." Ronnie raised an eyebrow. "But I'm betting you're not really a good patient, are you?"
"Not so much." Eliot agreed, watching Nate. "I don't sit still well."
"Neither does he," she observed, sitting back on the couch, watching Nate as well.
"He can hear you." Nate said, stopping and dragging a hand through his hair.
Eliot squinted at him. There was something different. He looked at Ronnie again, at the way she was looking at Nate. Obviously. Nate had never really been interested in him that way. He didn't know why he'd ever thought maybe he would be. He'd been a surrogate, someone who would fill the gaps until the right woman came along.
"This was a bad idea. I should go."
"No!" Nate jumped toward him, then pulled back again. "You…look at you…you're in no shape. Stay…there's an extra bed."
"I'm going to have to agree." Ronnie said, leaning forward. "You don't look like you should be going anywhere, and Nate's been worried about you. Let me make up the bed. You can rest, and later, when you're feeling better, I'll take you home."
Eliot didn't want to agree, but he wasn't sure he'd make it home on his own just now. "I don't want to be any trouble."
Her smile was bright. "No trouble. I have to work tonight. I can take you home on my way." She patted his knee and got up, disappearing again.
Nate went back to pacing, the quiet stretching between them. "Are you okay?" Eliot asked finally when he couldn't take the silence anymore.
"What? You're asking me?" Nate stopped, the expression on his face unreadable. "You…I'm fine. I mean, I could use a drink. God, I could really use a drink."
That was when Eliot figured it out. Nate was sober. Very sober. Nate shoved his shaking hands into his armpits and went back to pacing.
"Okay, we're all set." Ronnie's hand was on his arm, helping him slowly to his feet. Nate followed them down the hall, hovering as Ronnie guided Eliot to the bed, lifting his feet for him and easing the sneakers from them. "I'm just going to check your bandages, okay?"
Eliot nodded, but he was mostly watching Nate. Watching Nate chew his fingers and fidget, watching Nate rock back and forth and finally leave the room. "He'll be okay." Ronnie said softly, her fingers pressing the bandage on his side back into place.
"I don't think I've ever seen him sober. Not that sober."
Her smile was a little sad. "He's never had a reason to be before now."
"How long?"
Her hand rested over the bandages. "Since this."
"It ain't over then."
"The withdrawal? No, it's going to be a rough couple of weeks for him. Maybe months. But he'll get through it."
Eliot nodded. "He's a good guy."
She laughed a little. "I'm glad you think so. He seems to think the world of you."
"Me?" Eliot watched his shadow in the hallway as he neared the door, then backed away. "Nah, I'm just…we ain't even rightly friends."
"No, probably not." She lifted a blanket and settled it over him. "Friends would imply the two of you actually talked to one another and understood one another. I can clearly see you both fail in regard to that."
She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. "But you're both smart boys. I'm sure you'll figure it out." She left him then, gathering Nate and guiding him back down the hall.
His head and side throbbed. Fatigue tugged him toward sleep, but her words bothered him. There wasn't anything to figure out. As soon as he was able, he'd go home and then it would be over. Nate wouldn't need him anymore.
Eliot wasn't sure how they pulled it off, but Jack Harmon ended up on the wrong end of a federal indictment two weeks later and sitting in jail pending trial. Hardison was particularly pleased with himself.
In those two weeks, Eliot mostly kept to himself, though they all came by to check up in him. Everyone but Nate. Even the pretty EMT.
It had been a good ride. Eliot had learned a few things. But maybe it was time to be moving on. There was a job in Reno he'd turned down, but maybe he was healed up enough to take it on.
His phone rang as he packed his bag. He answered it, half expecting it to be Sophie again, telling him to come back. "What?"
"Heard you were leaving."
Nate. Eliot turned and sat on the end of the bed. "Who told you?"
"Parker. She called me stupid."
Eliot could almost picture him rubbing his forehead. "So, is it true?"
"Got a job." Eliot said, avoiding the direct answer.
"Good. You should work."
Obviously Nate was avoiding directness too. "Reno, couple of weeks."
"You going to come back?" There was hope and hesitation in his voice.
"I don't know." Eliot answered honestly. "Not sure there's a reason."
They were quiet. "You should come back." Nate said after a time.
"Yeah? Why?" He could hear Nate breathing.
"I want you to."
"Nate…you don't--"
"Eliot…just, come back when you're done. Okay? Just, come back and we'll talk."
Eliot sighed. "Why Nate? Talk about what?"
For the longest time the line was quiet and Eliot almost thought Nate had hung up. "I don't want you to hate me." Nate's voice was quiet. "I mean, you probably do, and I get that…but I want you to know a few things, and I'm not ready to say them yet,…but I'm trying, so I want you to come back. I want you to come back and give me a chance to say them so that when you really leave…when you leave for good, you'll know and maybe won't hate me so much." His voice hitched a little as he finished the rush of words and Eliot's breath caught in his throat.
"I don't hate you."
"Then you'll come back. Right?"
Eliot knew better, knew he should cut ties and run. But he found himself nodding. "Couple of weeks." He hung up the phone and dumped it onto the bed behind him. He'd come back and finish this. And they'd both be better off for it.
Title: Unfinished Business, Part 3 (first part is here, second part here because apparently this forgot it was a one shot)
Characters/Pairings: Nate, Eliot, Parker, Sophie, Hardison (sort of Nate/Eliot pre-slash), OFC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3393
Summary: Eliot wakes up in the hospital to an angry Parker, a protective Sophie and an absent Nate. When he decides he's had enough of no one telling him what's going on, he finds that maybe Nate has reasons beyond him for staying away.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is still pre/slash, and difficult boys being...well...difficult boys. Still a pretty beat up Eliot with emotional issues to boot.
The last thing he remembered clearly was shoving Nate out of the way. Everything after that got a little hazy and out of order. He remembered Nate talking, broken with bits of fighting and hot, then cold. It felt wrong, disconnected somehow.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the bright glare. Panic flared through him for a moment before he recognized he was in a hospital room. Which meant whatever had gone done had gone bad. He blinked, turning his head.
Parker was sitting in the chair nearby, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes closed as she leaned on her knees. Eliot cleared his throat and her eyes popped open. "Oh! You're awake."
She unfolded and stood, reaching for him and then pulling back before she'd even touched him. "You…I should get a doctor."
Eliot reached his hand out and she stopped. "Nate?"
Her whole face crinkled up and she was gone before he figured out what that meant. Anger. Parker was angry. At Nate.
Eliot tried to reason that out, but before he did, there was a doctor with Parker. "Mr. Spencer, I'm Dr. Hanson. I'm relieved to see you're awake."
Eliot was still looking at Parker, his frown matching hers. "What's the damage, doc?"
"You took two severe lacerations to the abdomen, one of which did some internal damage. Broken rib, sprained wrist, bruises, a concussion."
Eliot lifted his right hand, and all the tubes attached to rub at the back of his head. He did remember that, hitting the ground hard. "How long have I been out?"
"Three days." Parker said before the doctor could answer.
Eliot frowned more, despite the way it made his head hurt. "Three days?" He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was more. "Where is Nate?"
Parker crinkled her nose. "I don't know."
"But he's okay?"
"He's not dead, if that's what you're asking."
"How long you keeping me?" Eliot asked the doctor, though he kept looking at Parker.
"You just came out of a coma, Mr. Spencer. I don't think you should be worried about-"
Eliot flicked his eyes to the doctor. "How long?"
"I--we'll have to wait and see."
"I don't think so." Eliot started to sit up, moving blankets off him so he could stand. His head was pounding and his side hurt, but it wasn't enough to keep him in bed, not when he wasn't getting straight answers out of Parker.
The doctor's hand on his shoulder stopped him long enough to feel the wave of fatigue and pain. "I will sedate you if I must." The doctor said it coldly.
Normally Eliot wouldn't let someone like this guy stop him, but the room was starting to spin and laying down seemed a lot more likely, even if he pushed to get up. Slowly, he let the doctor guide him down and smooth the thin hospital blanket back up over him.
"Now, as I was going to say, you are healing well, but we'll want to keep you in bed for the time being." The doctor scribbled something on his chart and smiled tightly. "I'll be back later."
Eliot rubbed at his face. "Parker--"
She sat on the bed and patted his thigh. He supposed it was meant to be soothing. "We were worried."
"We were?" Eliot really wasn't in a mood to deal with Parker's oddities. "Is Nate okay?"
She must have realized he wasn't going to let it go, her shoulders sagging. "He nearly got you killed." She did that thing with her mouth, pursing her lips and then pressing them together, that she did when she didn't want to answer something. "Last time I saw him he was fine. Okay, maybe not fine. He was a mess, hungover, dirty…all disheveled. I wasn't very nice to him."
"This wasn't his fault, Parker." Eliot said as understanding dawned. "He didn't do this."
She crossed her arms, her eyebrows bunched together as she scowled at him. "He's been drunk since Miami. Nearly killed Hardison because he lost track of the mark in Pittsburgh."
Eliot understood that at least. Nate had been drinking an awful lot since the job in Miami. And Eliot had told him then, in front of everybody that he wasn't going to go down with him, and here he was in a hospital bed. He exhaled slowly and reached for her hand. He wanted to make her understand, but whatever injuries he had and drugs were getting pumped into him, he was drowsy.
"Told him a while ago to call me…told him I'd come for him. He called. I went. Stupid fight. Knife. Not his fault."
His eyes were closing despite his efforts to keep them open. Before he could tell if she'd heard him, he was asleep again.
The room was dim the next time he was awake, the only light coming in through the open door from the hallway and the display of the monitor beside his bed. The pain seemed to have receded some as Eliot shifted and sat up a little. He wanted to stretch, but could tell his stomach muscles wouldn't like that much. His hand went to his stomach, to the thick bandages cover what he could tell was a good six or seven inch cut.
"You should be asleep."
The voice startled him and Eliot turned his head, surprised to find Nate standing in the shadows in the corner of the room. He hadn't sensed anyone else in the room.
"Nate." Eliot cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes to see into the gloom. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
He heard him take a deep breath before he stepped out of the shadow and closer to the bed. Eliot looked him up and down, half expecting bandages or bruises or something. He was dressed down, faded jeans and a sweatshirt, but he looked somehow cleaner than Eliot had seen in a while. He was clean shaven and freshly showered.
He was also pale and his hands shook as he brushed them over Eliot's arm. "I heard you woke up. I wanted to be sure you were okay."
"Heard?" He remembered Parker's face. "What's going on Nate?"
He shrugged a little, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. As long as you're going to be okay."
"I'm fine." Eliot said reflexively, brushing off the concern. Of course, they both knew that wasn't the whole truth. If he were fine, he wouldn't be here. "Talk to me."
"You nearly died. I watched them work on you."
"Nate, I'm fine." Eliot insisted, grabbing Nate's hand. "What's going on with you?"
"You wouldn't have been there if I hadn't called."
Nate didn't look at him, even when Eliot tugged on his hand. "If you hadn't called, you'd probably be dead." Eliot said. "You don't think I'm angry about this, do you?"
Nate licked his lips, but before he could say anything a nurse was coming toward them. "Visiting hours were over hours ago, Mr. Ford. I told you last night, you can't be here now."
He nodded, pulling his hand away. "It's okay, I was just leaving."
"Nate!"
"You should be sleeping." The nurse checked his chart and his IV. "You want something to help? Doctor left orders for it if you want it."
Eliot shook his head. He didn't want the groggy headedness that came with still more drugs. "I'm fine."
"You are not fine." Sophie crossed her arms and stared at him as tested the strength of his legs. "You need to be in bed."
"I need someone to give me a fucking straight answer." Eliot countered, deciding that his legs would hold him. "What is going on?"
She huffed as he shuffled toward the end of the bed. He was free of the IV after another two days of complaining to anyone who would listen that he was fine and ready to rip it out himself if he had to. Sophie grabbed the pants he was reaching for away from him.
"It's nothing for you to worry about. We're handling it."
It was his turn to cross his arms and glare. "Handling it? Handling what?" So far all he knew was that the guys who did this to him had been coming after Nate. He wasn't even sure why.
"Jack Harmon." Sophie said quietly when he made it clear that he wasn't going to let it drop.
Eliot frowned at her. He'd been frowning a lot in the last few days. "The mark from Ellicot?"
"Yes. Hardison and Parker and I are dealing with him."
Eliot snorted and turned to lean on the bed. "Without Nate?"
"Nate has been in no condition to be helpful."
"So…what? What kind of con could you possibly run on this guy? He knows us, knows our faces…"
Sophie shook her head tightly. "No con. Not this time. I said we were handling it."
"Sophie, what are you doing?"
"There he is." Hardison's voice bounced off the walls as he came in, shopping bags in both hands. "As requested, shoes, shirt, hamburger from Dino's. Everything a growing boy needs."
Sophie grabbed at the bag that obviously held clothes. "No. You're not helping him."
"I'm not staying here." Eliot said, grabbing at the bag, though she pulled it away.
Hardison's expressive face went from open and happy to a deep frown. "You said they were letting you go."
"No, I said I was done here." Eliot countered. "Give me the damn bag."
Hardison handed over the food, then backed away, hands up. "Not getting in the middle of this."
"Don't you have work to be doing?" Sophie asked, her voice darker than Eliot remembered ever hearing it.
"On it. I almost feel sorry for the man. Won't know what hit him."
Eliot pulled the hamburger out of the bag and sank back onto the bed. "Oh, he'll know, Hardison. I'll make sure of that."
When Hardison was gone Eliot looked up at Sophie. "I'm serious. I'm not staying. Give me the clothes and I won't hurt you taking them from you."
"You are a stubborn idiot."
Eliot grinned and bit into the burger. "Tell me something I don't know."
To his surprise, Sophie was actually waiting for him when he made it downstairs. He held one had across his stomach and he moved slow, but he moved and
made it out the door, despite the nurse who had tried to stop him.
He sank into the passenger seat of the car gratefully. "Take me to Nate's."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't, scowling at the steering wheel as they pulled out into traffic. "What?" Eliot asked when the silence was wearing on his nerves.
"Why?" she asked in return. "Why him?"
He was confused for a minute, then realized she was asking why he wanted to go to Nate's house. "I need to know he's okay." Eliot said in response. "He was really fucked up before this. He's blaming himself."
"He should. He should blame himself. If he could haul himself out of a bottle long enough to see what he's doing--"
Eliot touched her arm. "Stop. It isn't his fault. Not completely." He shook his head. "Maybe if you'd see past the bottle, you'd get that he doesn't need someone to take the bottle away from him. He needs someone to give him a reason to put the bottle down."
Up until Miami, Eliot had thought maybe he'd started to give Nate that. Then came the job that reminded him of all the reasons he'd climbed into a bottle to begin with. His phone call to Eliot that night had been the first time he'd reached out since.
"Is that what you are, Eliot?" Sophie asked as she stopped in front of the building. "Is that what you're thinking? That you can fix him? Fix this?"
Eliot looked up at Nate's window for a few minutes, then exhaled. "Let's just call it unfinished business, okay?" He opened the car door and stood slowly. "Thanks for the ride."
He leaned on the wall of the elevator, watching the numbers light up. He wasn't ready to give up on Nate, even if the others were. In the hours they'd spent together before Miami, Eliot had seen something in him, and he'd made the man a promise.
Okay, maybe he'd never verbalized it, but he meant it, and that was all that mattered. When he'd told Nate that he could call him any time and he'd come for him, Eliot had meant it.
He knocked on the door, leaning against the door jamb as he waited. When the door opened, Eliot blinked a little. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting to walk into, but this wasn't it.
Nate blinked back at him, seemingly struck mute by his appearance. The woman smiled at him though. "You certainly look better than the last time I saw you."
Eliot stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry, I--"
She stood and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You wouldn't remember. You were unconscious at the time."
"Ronnie is an EMT." Nate said suddenly. Eliot took a few steps into the apartment, not sure that was an invitation, but starting to really need to sit. "She was there…the night…"
Eliot nodded. "Ronnie?"
"You don't look like you should be on your feet." Her hand was gentle as she guided him to a seat in Nate's broken down recliner. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine." Eliot said. It was beginning to sound like a mantra. "Really…maybe some water?"
Nate's face was red as she left the room and Eliot kicked himself for presuming. This was going to get really awkward if he didn't find a way to extricate himself, fast.
"I should have called." Eliot said, shifting to ease the throbbing ache in his side. "Sorry."
Nate paced a little, looking up when Ronnie came back with a glass of water. "You should be in the hospital still." Ronnie raised an eyebrow. "But I'm betting you're not really a good patient, are you?"
"Not so much." Eliot agreed, watching Nate. "I don't sit still well."
"Neither does he," she observed, sitting back on the couch, watching Nate as well.
"He can hear you." Nate said, stopping and dragging a hand through his hair.
Eliot squinted at him. There was something different. He looked at Ronnie again, at the way she was looking at Nate. Obviously. Nate had never really been interested in him that way. He didn't know why he'd ever thought maybe he would be. He'd been a surrogate, someone who would fill the gaps until the right woman came along.
"This was a bad idea. I should go."
"No!" Nate jumped toward him, then pulled back again. "You…look at you…you're in no shape. Stay…there's an extra bed."
"I'm going to have to agree." Ronnie said, leaning forward. "You don't look like you should be going anywhere, and Nate's been worried about you. Let me make up the bed. You can rest, and later, when you're feeling better, I'll take you home."
Eliot didn't want to agree, but he wasn't sure he'd make it home on his own just now. "I don't want to be any trouble."
Her smile was bright. "No trouble. I have to work tonight. I can take you home on my way." She patted his knee and got up, disappearing again.
Nate went back to pacing, the quiet stretching between them. "Are you okay?" Eliot asked finally when he couldn't take the silence anymore.
"What? You're asking me?" Nate stopped, the expression on his face unreadable. "You…I'm fine. I mean, I could use a drink. God, I could really use a drink."
That was when Eliot figured it out. Nate was sober. Very sober. Nate shoved his shaking hands into his armpits and went back to pacing.
"Okay, we're all set." Ronnie's hand was on his arm, helping him slowly to his feet. Nate followed them down the hall, hovering as Ronnie guided Eliot to the bed, lifting his feet for him and easing the sneakers from them. "I'm just going to check your bandages, okay?"
Eliot nodded, but he was mostly watching Nate. Watching Nate chew his fingers and fidget, watching Nate rock back and forth and finally leave the room. "He'll be okay." Ronnie said softly, her fingers pressing the bandage on his side back into place.
"I don't think I've ever seen him sober. Not that sober."
Her smile was a little sad. "He's never had a reason to be before now."
"How long?"
Her hand rested over the bandages. "Since this."
"It ain't over then."
"The withdrawal? No, it's going to be a rough couple of weeks for him. Maybe months. But he'll get through it."
Eliot nodded. "He's a good guy."
She laughed a little. "I'm glad you think so. He seems to think the world of you."
"Me?" Eliot watched his shadow in the hallway as he neared the door, then backed away. "Nah, I'm just…we ain't even rightly friends."
"No, probably not." She lifted a blanket and settled it over him. "Friends would imply the two of you actually talked to one another and understood one another. I can clearly see you both fail in regard to that."
She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. "But you're both smart boys. I'm sure you'll figure it out." She left him then, gathering Nate and guiding him back down the hall.
His head and side throbbed. Fatigue tugged him toward sleep, but her words bothered him. There wasn't anything to figure out. As soon as he was able, he'd go home and then it would be over. Nate wouldn't need him anymore.
Eliot wasn't sure how they pulled it off, but Jack Harmon ended up on the wrong end of a federal indictment two weeks later and sitting in jail pending trial. Hardison was particularly pleased with himself.
In those two weeks, Eliot mostly kept to himself, though they all came by to check up in him. Everyone but Nate. Even the pretty EMT.
It had been a good ride. Eliot had learned a few things. But maybe it was time to be moving on. There was a job in Reno he'd turned down, but maybe he was healed up enough to take it on.
His phone rang as he packed his bag. He answered it, half expecting it to be Sophie again, telling him to come back. "What?"
"Heard you were leaving."
Nate. Eliot turned and sat on the end of the bed. "Who told you?"
"Parker. She called me stupid."
Eliot could almost picture him rubbing his forehead. "So, is it true?"
"Got a job." Eliot said, avoiding the direct answer.
"Good. You should work."
Obviously Nate was avoiding directness too. "Reno, couple of weeks."
"You going to come back?" There was hope and hesitation in his voice.
"I don't know." Eliot answered honestly. "Not sure there's a reason."
They were quiet. "You should come back." Nate said after a time.
"Yeah? Why?" He could hear Nate breathing.
"I want you to."
"Nate…you don't--"
"Eliot…just, come back when you're done. Okay? Just, come back and we'll talk."
Eliot sighed. "Why Nate? Talk about what?"
For the longest time the line was quiet and Eliot almost thought Nate had hung up. "I don't want you to hate me." Nate's voice was quiet. "I mean, you probably do, and I get that…but I want you to know a few things, and I'm not ready to say them yet,…but I'm trying, so I want you to come back. I want you to come back and give me a chance to say them so that when you really leave…when you leave for good, you'll know and maybe won't hate me so much." His voice hitched a little as he finished the rush of words and Eliot's breath caught in his throat.
"I don't hate you."
"Then you'll come back. Right?"
Eliot knew better, knew he should cut ties and run. But he found himself nodding. "Couple of weeks." He hung up the phone and dumped it onto the bed behind him. He'd come back and finish this. And they'd both be better off for it.
