It Had Been Just A Scratch
Written for the prompt : Leverage, Eliot/ team, Eliot leaned into the cool comfort of Sophie's hands when she caressed his fevered brow
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It Had Been Just A Scratch
They are all looking for him in their own ways; he hasn't answered his phone regardless of which of them tries calling. They aren't sure whether he is in trouble or whether one, or maybe all of them, has done something to pretty much piss him off and he is ignoring them.
The problem is there has been a development in the job and they really need to move up the timeline and for that they need Eliot. Hence the reason they are trying to track him down. For convenience, they'd all been at Hardison's; there had been work outside the office a few days previously that had knocked out the electricity there and so Hardison has been working from his own apartment ever since.
Hardison is trying to find some electronic means to track down Eliot's whereabouts, Parker is checking on his apartment and some of the local restaurants they know he frequents, while Nate searches some of the bars a little further afield. Sophie has already been to all the places they know he goes to buy organic vegetables and speciality foods with no luck at all. They're running out of options, when Hardison suddenly gets a ping as Eliot's phone is picked up by a network at last.
Sophie's closest to the office, so she heads straight there, while Hardison tries to actually ring his phone. He picks up, but it's no comfort like it should be when Eliot says, "'lo? What d'you want?" His voice is more of a low drawled growl than Hardison expects, the words running into each other barely clear enough to make out.
It speeds Sophie's steps more as she rushes in through the lobby before heading up to their offices. She slows herself down deliberately when she gets to the door, knowing that she needs to approach this the right way and not yet sure what that might be. She stands in the door to his office for a moment, trying to make sense of the clues that she now has before her. "Eliot?"
His head turns slowly, his eyes are slightly glazed, his skin flushed as sweat beads on his brow. He looks like he's in pain, but he pulls himself to sit more upright, shuts the box beside him and pulls it closer to him then off the desk where it thuds into a drawer that is then slid closed as he shifts his chair concealing more of himself below the level of the desk.
"C'n I help you?" he asks and she realizes he's not sure who she is, another sign that he needs help, if she hadn't already worked that out.
"Eliot," she starts softly, "It's me, Sophie. I've come to help you." He isn't convinced yet and she isn't sure what she can say to make a difference. She steps closer and is relieved to see his hands still out on the top of the desk in clear view and he's made no attempt to move. She crosses to stop in front of him, takes hold of one of his hands, feels how hot he is and as she looks down at their now joined hands she can also see blood. Without letting go, she rounds the desk and drops down to his side, trying to pull the chair back out, grateful that it has wheels on so it shifts enough that she can see, just a slice, nothing huge, nothing deep, but it doesn't look good.
She remembers Nate and Parker asking him after the initial run in a couple of days previously if he was okay, he'd said it was nothing just a scratch. She doesn't think he was lying but, for some reason, it's not looking good now. "I can help," she says softly, knowing the rest of the team are listening in to try and find out what's happening. She's already heard them say that they're on the way to help as well. "Just lean back, Eliot," she encourages him to settle against the back of the chair, stands and rushes to wash her hands. She scrubs her hands quickly before rinsing off the soap under the cold tap.
Her hands are cool as she returns to his side and lets one hand rest against his forehead, pushing back his sweaty bangs gently. His head turns pressing into the coolness of her touch and she smiles as she sees the relief in his eyes at her touch. She knows Nate is not far away now, so she concentrates her efforts on this, seeing his fear recede and his acceptance of her support replace it. "Soph'," his voice is hoarse and she reaches for the bottle of water on the far side of the table and holds it up for him to sip at. "S'rry," he mutters. "D'n' know wh't h'ppen'd."
"It's gonna be okay, Eliot," she reassures, grateful that at last he seems to recognize her.
Nathan comes in through the door as she murmurs further reassurances, crossing to her side and instantly taking in the uncovered wound and kneeling down to look closer. He removes the remains of the dressing and pulls open the drawer to retrieve the box that Sophie had seen Eliot hide earlier. It's the work of moments for him to find a fresh dressing and cover it over.
With Sophie's help, Nathan gets Eliot down to the ground floor and out to the van where Hardison and Parker are waiting. As soon as they're in, Hardison pulls away and heads straight for the hospital.
The staff at the hospital act quickly to clean the wound and stitch it, confirming Eliot's own words of days earlier that the wound itself was just a scratch, but that he'd been unlucky and picked up an infection. It takes a while for them to be happy that he can go home and all the time, Sophie has stayed with him, acting the part of concerned wife for the medical staff; she's lucky that her cool hand against his forehead is enough to have him turning towards her, a small grateful smile in his expression. She keeps him grounded, seems to clear the fog of fever just enough to make sure he doesn't say anything he shouldn't.
They never think of Eliot being the one in need of a gentle touch, hardly ever the one who needs their help, but this has been a reminder that no matter how self-sufficient and gruff he might be on the average day, he does still need them and he will accept their help and care.