TITLE: An Unnamed Revelation 1/3

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: PG13 for some bad language.

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: The eighth in the Unnamed series. A turning point has arrived in their relationship. Bad things happen when an alcoholic is denied alcohol for an extended period of time and Eliot just might be too tired to pick up the pieces.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place after The 12 Step Job and bridges the gap to The First David Job. Contains spoilers. Note that this series follows the order of episodes on the season 1 DVD's instead of actual broadcast order.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I often jokingly call my muse a dominatrix. Truth is she's a harsh mistress. So while I was bound and gagged in the corner, she wrote this one herself. Seriously, this story follows a different format than the previous ones in this series. While the others were merely codas, this one includes fill in the blanks. It's a two for one! Hope you enjoy.

Eliot slammed his cell phone down on the exercise mat he was sitting on. He'd just gotten off the phone with Nate and he wasn't at all happy. Using the neck of his tee shirt, he wiped at the sweat running into his eyes. He'd begged Nathan not to take any client meetings just now. It was too much.

He stood and kicked at the heavybag, trying to work out some of his frustration on a safe target.

Nathan needed a break. Lately, it had been one thing after another, most of it alcohol related. Nathan was drinking more and more, eating less, and lately he'd started looking very unhealthy. If he didn't slow down there wasn't going to be anything left to stitch back together. But Nathan refused to rest. It was like if he didn't keep constantly moving he would fall apart.

Besides, the moment he'd heard about this client he'd had a bad feeling. As a hitter, he'd learned that sometimes you just needed to trust your gut. But Nathan was a stubborn son of a bitch and he didn't believe in anything he couldn't see or touch. So Eliot's gut feelings were dismissed.

Eliot stretched out his muscles and took a drink of water from the bottle sitting by the blue mat. The thought occurred to him that he could just refuse. He could just not show up. He could take a vacation or maybe take that job offer he had in South Africa. Not for good, but just for a while. He could get a little breathing space. He felt like Nathan's alcoholism was drowning him. It would be good to get away. But if he did that, he'd be leaving the rest of the team in the lurch. They didn't deserve that. He sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. If he was going to meet the team at the office he needed to get a shower.

* * *

The glaring LA sun was beating down on them as they walked away from the nearing sirens. Nate rubbed at his brow, wishing he had his sunglasses. "Okay, so we just need a rehab facility. Sophie, you'll need to go in as a therapist or psychologist, whatever places like that use. Parker, you go in as a patient to back up Sophie and get close to Hurley." The sirens were growing closer and Nate glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of sight.

Hardison cleared his throat. "Actually there's a rehab facility not far from here. It's uh, over on third. It's called Second Life or something like that."

Eliot glared at Hardison, lip curled. "Second Life is a video game, Hardison."

Hardison bobbed his head from side to side. "Technically it's a virtual world. There are no goals or objectives. And how would you even know that, Mr. as long as I don't have to type nothing?"

Eliot stepped forward, a growl of menace trickling from his throat. "My nephew likes it."

Nathan shook his head and continued to walk away from the scene, trying to get his team as far away from the accident as possible. "Okay, we'll let the authorities take Hurley for now. Hardison you get admission papers drawn up for Hurley and credentials for Sophie."

Sophie stepped in front of Nathan, stopping him. Ever since Nathan had mentioned a rehab facility her own brain had been spinning furiously. She couldn't believe an opportunity like this was falling into her lap. It was perfect. This was her chance to get Nate off the booze. "You know, Parker will be useful. But, she can't room with Hurley. We need a man in there to get close to him, to become his confidant."

Nathan blinked down at her. She had a point. A male would be useful. He nodded. "Fine. Hardison can go in as the other patient."

Hardison started shaking his head. "What? Hell no."

Sophie stared up at Nate. "I think it should be you."

Nate shook his head, started to say something but Sophie cut him off.

"We might need Hardison for tech back up. He can't do that in a secure ward. Besides, you have far more experience working the con than Hardison does."

Nate glanced over at Eliot who had been strangely quiet. He smelled a set up. He just couldn't figure out how they'd gotten Hurley to wreck the car on cue. But, if anyone could do it, it would be his team. "You two been talking behind my back?"

Eliot scowled a little but managed to keep his face mostly impassive. Why the hell would he be talking to Sophie? He frowned harder. Since he'd been with Nate he'd started reading up on Alcoholism, and while he wasn't an expert, he knew that paranoia was not a good sign. It could mean that Nate was on the verge of an alcohol induced psychotic episode.

Sophie shook her head, a bit confused. "What?"

Nathan seemed to realize that everyone was looking at him and quickly got on the offensive, diverting their attention. He smirked down at Sophie. "You think I can't do this." He pushed past her and kept walking toward his car. "This is not about me, Sophie. This is about Hurley."

She caught up with him, leaving the team to trail behind them. "I didn't say anything about it being about you, Nate. But I must say you're getting awfully defensive for someone who doesn't have a problem."

Nathan stopped again in the middle of the parking lot, turning to her, raising his voice. "I can stop whenever I want."

Sophie just quirked her eyebrow, arms crossed over her midsection.

Nathan licked his lips, turning to stare at the rest of the team but they just stared back, faces blank. He wasn't receiving any help there. He turned back to Sophie and sneered. "Fine. We'll do this," He turned and yelled at the rest of the team. "And then everyone can just get off my back."

Eliot remained impassive but both Hardison and Parker flinched. Sophie nodded. "Fine."

Nathan turned away from her, irritated. "Eliot, you're with me. You'll have to take me in, pretend you're family or something." He started back to the car. "The rest of you need to hurry. Sophie needs to get down to the jail with the admission papers."

* * *

Eliot leaned in the doorway of the bedroom and watched as Nathan packed his bag. He wouldn't be allowed to keep most of it but Eliot supposed that didn't matter. They'd confiscate what he couldn't keep at the nurses' station. Eliot watched as every once in a while, Nathan would stop his packing and take a hit off of the bottle of Jameson on the bedside table.

Eliot crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was torn. He really wanted Nathan to quit drinking. He couldn't stand seeing what the alcohol was doing to him anymore. It wasn't just tearing Nathan apart; it was tearing Eliot apart as well. Still, he was worried about the withdrawal that would come. He really hadn't seen anyone go through serious withdrawal. He'd seen movies, but movies weren't like real life. He did know it was supposed to be painful. If not done correctly it could even be life threatening. And he wouldn't be there to help him through it, to make sure that he was okay. But it was more than that. He didn't think Nathan was going into this with a clear head. Nate had no idea what was going to happen. He was still, very firmly, in denial.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Nathan shouldn't be going into this blind. "I don't think you clearly understand what you're getting yourself into here. This is . . . it's going to be hard. You need to realize that."

Nathan looked up from zipping his bag. "What?" He shook his head. "Eliot, I'm not going to rehab. I'm playing a part here. It'll be fine." He walked over to Eliot and leaned in to lay a kiss on his lips.

Eliot didn't stop him but he didn't unfold his arms either. When Nate pulled away he opened his eyes again. "You're not going to be able to take the alcohol in with you."

Nate pulled back, blinked at him. "Eliot, I'm not an alcoholic. I'll be fine." He went back and grabbed his bag off the bed before taking another drink. He turned around and Eliot was right there.

Eliot grabbed Nathan when he turned. He ate hungrily at Nathan's lips, trying to crawl deeper inside. It was part goodbye and part delay tactic.

Eliot tried to shut the taste of bourbon out. The taste was always present, but it never really got any easier. He pulled away, breathing hard. He put his forehead against Nathan's, trying to anchor himself in the here and now. The fear of what was about to happen wasn't making staying in the present any easier. He was afraid that he was going to slip into the past and lose himself.

Nathan leaned forward, oblivious to Eliot's inner turmoil, and pressed his lips back to his lovers. "I'm going to miss you. That's what's going to be hard. I hate it when we have jobs that take us away from each other."

Eliot ignored the anxiety pressing like bees in his stomach. He pressed himself in closer to Nathan, feeling his groin stir as Nathan rubbed against his belly. He attacked his lips again, pulling the bottom one into his mouth, sucking and working it with his teeth. He ran his hands under his shirt, up Nathan's back, gliding over the skin, feeling the bones underneath. Eliot closed his eyes and burrowed his nose into Nathan's neck, breathing in the scent of him. He wanted to remember the feel of Nathan in his arms, the way he smelled.

He turned them so Nathan's back was to the bed and shoved him down. Eliot crawled up between his knees and pressed himself against his lover. Whatever else went down, he'd know he'd shown Nathan he was loved.

* * *

Eliot could feel the muscle in his jaw jump from clenching his teeth. He kept his fingers curled into his palms, fists clenched to his side. It's the only way he can keep from hitting something. He hates this! He feels so damn useless. It doesn't matter that he knows this needs to happen. All he can think about is how Nate is in pain; how he's suffering. And there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

The walk back to the car is silent and tense; the hot LA sun only making Eliot feel more miserable. He can't get the picture of Nathan pale and fidgeting out of his mind. It wasn't like he hadn't expected it. But the knowledge didn't make it any easier. And he was pissed at himself, wondering when he'd turned into such a damn girl. When he saw Nathan like that the only thing he could think was that he'd get him a drink. He'd get him anything to take the pain away. It was fucked up.

Before Nathan, he wouldn't have given second thought to making an alcoholic toe the line. He would've had no mercy when it came to seeing one in the throes of withdrawal. It was Nathan's fault. He'd crawled under his skin and invaded him, turning his own feelings against him. He could even take it so far as to equate him with a cancer. So many times he'd thought about excising him, like an unwanted growth. The problem was, Nathan was unwanted. He fucking craved him the way Nathan craved booze. Yeah, fucked up was the word for it.

Hardison let them into the car and they sat in silence. Eliot turned to glare at Hardison when he didn't start the car. "Are we going or not?"

Hardison shook his head and turned to look at the man in his passenger seat. "Man, Nate looks bad."

Eliot glared over at Hardison, willing his teeth to unclench. Finally, he just grunted. He couldn't think of anything else to say that would be remotely coherent right now. Besides, he didn't want to talk about how bad his fucking lover looked. No, Sir. They just needed to get a move on. The sooner they got this job finished, the sooner Nate could come back home.

Hardison pushed the button to start the car, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "Did you see how he couldn't sit still?"

Eliot remained quiet. He was using every bit of self-control not to smack Hardison's face right off his head.

Hardison tuned the radio to a station he hoped wouldn't annoy the hitter too much, kept it low. "Did you see how pale he was? I mean, I've seen some pale white guys before, but I've never seen anyone that pale."

Eliot reached out and slammed the button for the radio, causing the car to fall silent. "Yeah, Hardison, I saw. You want to shut the fuck up and drive?" The growl came out of Eliot's throat raw and deep.

Hardison swallowed. He knew that Eliot was just this side of smacking him like he'd smacked the radio button. He threw the car into gear and drove out of the rehab parking lot. He remained quiet for a while, worrying his lip. Something had been bothering Eliot since the very beginning of this job. He's been surly, well, more so than usual, and downright freaking scary. He can't quite put his finger on it but he thinks it has something to do with Nathan. Hell, he's worried about their mastermind too. Has been for a while. He knows Eliot and Nate are close, have been since day one. Maybe that's it.

Hardison cleared his throat, feeling a bit like he's sticking his neck on the chopping block, but unable to keep quiet. "You think he'll be okay?"

Eliot remained quiet for a long time before he finally swallowed down the bile churning in his gut. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

* * *

They both watched as Sophie walked out of the office to go back to the rehab center. Hardison crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his shoes. Eliot ran his fingers through his hair before covering his face with his hands, elbows on knees. The office remained quiet a few moments, still. Then the explosion came.

"God damn it!" Eliot slammed his hand down on the table and stood abruptly, turning the chair over.

Hardison jumped at the sudden noise that intruded on the silence. He watched as Eliot stalked out of the room. It looked like whatever had been brewing under the hitter's surface all day was about to break through. Hardison ran his hand over his mouth and chin, wincing as he heard cabinets open and slam in the kitchen.

Every instinct he had was telling him to leave it alone. But they were family, and family didn't leave each other swinging in the wind. He took a deep breath and followed Eliot to the kitchen. Hardison stopped in the doorway and watched as Eliot poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eliot took a sip, put the cup back down, and then placed his palms on the counter. The action looked very calm, very controlled, but his shoulders were heaving with the effort of keeping it together. Over the last seven months or so things had just built up inside of him. Now, the dam was about to break and he couldn't fucking stop it. He was breathing so hard, trying to keep control that sparkles started to eat at the edges of his vision. If he didn't get rid of this tension somehow he was going to pass out. He grabbed the cup and threw it against the far wall. "Fucking alcoholics!"

The cup shattered, ceramic flying and pinging against the cabinets, a few metal clangs where it landed in the sink. The coffee was splashed against the paint, running down in small rivulets to make a matching stain on the floor.

In the doorway, Hardison jumped as the violence burst out of Eliot. He swore he could almost feel the anger behind the act, a wave of heat that threatened to sear off his eyebrows. He looked from the hitter, hair wild and cheeks flushed, to the coffee splattered on the wall. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Hey, man, calm down. Sophie's got it under control."

Eliot was still breathing hard. There was so much trying to push its way out of him. He was filled with anger, pain, and jealousy. He felt an impotent rage at not being able to make Nate better. And love. God, he loved Nathan so much it was fucking choking him. It felt like the guy was destroying his life, ripping him apart at the seams with all his drama, and he still loved the son of a bitch.

He threw open the fridge and started pulling things out. It didn't matter what it was. He had to cook something before he went out and killed somebody. He needed the soothing rhythm of the knife in his hand, the feel of heat as he stood over the stove. He needed the routine to ground him before he flew the fuck apart. He found some bell peppers, some leeks, and a couple of tomatoes. Eliot slammed them on the counter. He didn't bother washing them. He wasn't going to eat them, just cook them.

Hardison hissed in a breath and took a small step back as Eliot yanked a huge fucking knife out of a drawer. It was instinct. All his mind saw was fury and rage and fucking sharp gleaming metal, and it told him to run. He made himself stay put, trying to calm his own breathing. He'd never seen Eliot quite so uncontrolled before. "Hey, man, why don't we leave the sharp objects alone until we calm down a little."

Eliot stopped dicing the peppers and turned toward Hardison, knife automatically twirling in his hand. He pointed it at the hacker and snarled. "It should be me going in there. Not fucking Sophie."

Hardison had his back pressed into the wall by the door of the kitchen. When Eliot had turned the knife toward him he may or may not have pissed himself, he wasn't quite sure yet. For a moment he could say nothing, couldn't even think. That part of his brain that had urged him to run before was now babbling in terror. Then Eliot's words registered, and Hardison's brows pulled down over his eyes. He cocked his head to the side. "Wait . . . What?"

"She's just going to agitate him more. He doesn't need that right now! If I were there I could get him calm."

Hardison stared at the other man, a confused frown on his face. "What? You been living with the guy? How would you know that?"

Eliot's mind cleared a little, realization of what he'd said dawning. He felt the color start to drain from his face. He flipped the knife in his hand again and turned back to the vegetables.

Hardison licked his lips and stepped forward. "What do you mean it should be you?" When he didn't get an answer he walked farther into the room, until he was standing next to Eliot, watching him mince the vegetables. There was a tension radiating off of Eliot that hadn't been there before. It was qualitatively different from the rage that was still boiling under the surface. Everything clicked for him then. All the things Parker almost said, the way Eliot and Nathan were always throwing each other little looks, the subtext that seemed to flow between them, and finally, how tense Eliot had been on this case.

Eliot stopped chopping, tension thrumming through him, knuckles white on the knife. "Hardison, I have a knife and I'm not very happy right now. Back the fuck off."

Hardison backed up, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. "Holy . . . Seriously? Fuck, you . . ." He trailed off, laughing, still stunned. His brain had had just one too many shocks in the last five minutes. It was too much to deal with at once so he settled on what seemed the easiest. "Man, I would've never guessed. I mean, neither of you really seem the type."

Eliot continued to chop his vegetables. Forget cooking them. He was just going to chop them until there was nothing left. He gritted his teeth, the growl emanating from the very bottom of his stomach. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hardison scratched at his neck, ignoring Eliot. "Wow, man. I'm in shock, sort of. Though I got to admit, a lot of stuff makes more sense now." He stopped his prattle, frowning. "Hey, Parker knew! Why did Parker know before I did?"

Eliot continued to ignore Hardison as he started in on the leeks. Maybe if he did it long enough the other man would go away. Maybe if he ignored the whole situation it would all just disappear. Yeah, and he was Julia fucking Child.

Hardison felt his mouth drop open; the full realization of what this meant hitting him in the gut. "Shit, man. Sophie is going to be pissed!" Before he could blink, Eliot had him pushed up against the wall, knife pointed dangerously at his stomach.

"No, she won't. She ain't going to find out, Hardison. And if she does," He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll know who to come looking for. You got it?"

Hardison swallowed and nodded his head. He waited until Eliot had backed off before taking a breath and rubbing at his stomach where the tip of the knife had been pressed. He was definitely going to need to change his pants. His shock and exuberance at having found out Nate and Eliot's secret was fading and reality was setting back in. "Shit."

Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Hardison finally cleared his throat. "Seriously, I would never have guessed. Nate, maybe, but you, you're so . . . so . . ." He trailed off and shrugged.

Eliot glanced at him a moment before turning his attention back to the cutting board. "So what? What is a bi man supposed to be like, Hardison?"

Hardison swallowed again, the tone of Eliot's voice alerting him he needed to tread carefully. "I just . . . you know."

Eliot grabbed a tomato and started slicing. "You always think in stereotypes? What? Am I supposed to prance around and act like a diva? Is that what I'm supposed to act like, Hardison?"

Hardison scowled. "Oh, and you never think in stereotypes? Computer geeks live at home with their mamma, huh?"

Eliot pursed his lips and then shrugged. It was true.

Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Eliot could feel his shoulders start to burn with the tension. The argument with Hardison had distracted him for a moment but now the worry about Nathan was crowding in on him again.

Hardison seemed to pick up on Eliot's returning tension. "Man, you must be worried sick. I mean, I'm worried, but I'm not in a relationship with the guy. This must be killing you."

Eliot shrugged, stilling the knife. "This is what he needs."

"Still, man, shit, and Sophie's with him and you can't be."

Eliot shrugged and started cleaning up his mess. He was starting to feel tired. He needed some time alone to process everything.

"You should really tell her, Eliot. I mean, I don't know how long this has been going on between you two, but I'm guessing it's been a while. If you guys have long term plans she deserves to know."

Eliot shoved the mush into the garbage disposal, turned on the water, and hit the switch. He waited until the disposal was off and the noise had died down before he responded. "Yeah, I know. But it was Nate's decision not mine. He doesn't want her to know."

Hardison shook his head, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. He wanted to push it a little more, but he could sense Eliot's exhaustion. He'd been close enough to being gutted for one night. He decided not to push his luck. "Okay, man. She won't find it out from me."

* * *

Eliot had the door to Nate's office closed. He was stretched out on his couch, blinds drawn and lights off. He was trying to wind down. This job was straining him. It was worse than having a gun held at his head, worse than Sophie's acting. He didn't want to go home. There was too much there that was Nathan's. At some point it had stopped being his home and had become their home. He didn't want to be there alone right now. Of course, sitting in Nate's office wasn't exactly doing him any good either. But he needed to feel close to Nathan and being at the office felt less like abandonment than if he were at home, relaxing, while Nate was going through withdrawal.

He swallowed and put his arm over his eyes. Today had not turned out anything like he'd planned. Nate was going to be super pleased about Hardison finding out about them. Eliot's stomach churned. This whole thing was going to give him a damn ulcer. At least then he and Nate could share the same fucking diet of bland food. He rubbed at his forehead as his mind turned to rehashing the symptoms of withdrawal he'd read. It could get ugly, even more so than what he'd seen today. His mind parroted it all back to him. Severe symptoms included hallucinations, heart palpitations, not to mention seizures and death. Yeah, maybe thinking about the fallout when Nathan found out about Hardison knowing their secret was the better alternative after all.

He sighed and sat forward, giving up any pretense of resting. The atmosphere wasn't helping his nerves. The offices were almost eerily quiet. It was disconcerting. Sophie, Nate, and Parker were all at the rehab center. Hardison was off doing something with one of his computers. It was too quiet. The offices were almost never solemn but somehow this felt like a damn wake.

The phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, glancing at the caller ID. It was Sophie. He took a deep breath, eager for an update on Nathan, hoping for good news. "Eliot."

"He's gone!"

Eliot stood off the couch and walked out of Nate's office. His stomach had dropped to his toes, catapulting his heart into his throat. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"He shot out the window and left, took Hurley with him."

Eliot rubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, he was definitely developing an ulcer. "Fuck!"

"Listen, I'm going to leave from here as soon as I can. Until then, I think you and Hardison need to go out looking for him. He's not doing so well right now. He doesn't need to be out there alone."

Eliot growled and disconnected the call before he could rail at Sophie for something that wasn't really her fault. "Hardison!"

* * *

Eliot walked out of the bar and got into his truck, slamming the truck door. He thumped his hands down on the steering wheel repeatedly until he could feel the burn and ache all the way up his arms. This was the seventh bar he'd been to with no luck. He was tired and he was scared. Nathan was out there with Hurley, doing god knew what. He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. It was hard telling what was going through his mind. He could be out there somewhere, hallucinating, or face down in a gutter.

He put his hand to his ear to activate the comm. "Sophie, Hardison, please tell me ya'll got something."

"Man, I've been to every bar within a thirty mile radius. Nothing."

Eliot closed his eyes. "Sophie, what about you?"

"Same here. I've been to all of Hurley's old haunts and no one has seen him."

Eliot deactivated the comm and tried to breathe through the anxiety he was feeling. When he got hold of Nathan he was going shake him into next week for worrying him like this. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, glancing at the caller ID. He frowned at the unfamiliar number, feeling a little trill of fear run through his veins. This was his team cell. Nobody else had this number. "Nate this had better be you."

"Eliot, I need to talk to the team. I tried the office but nobody answered. Can you get them together for me?"

Eliot let his head fall back on the headrest with relief as he reached forward and started up the truck. "Nate, thank God. Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"No. Eliot, please, just . . . just listen to me okay? I, look, I've got Hurley with me. Get," He paused taking a deep breath. "Eliot, just get the team together for me. I'll call the office . . . I'll call the office in a half hour."

Eliot frowned at the shake in Nathan's voice, at the pain he could fucking hear coming out of his lover's mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, Nate, okay. Just tell me, are you okay?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Yeah. Just, Eliot . . ."

Eliot took a deep breath, trying to keep himself together long enough to do this. "What is it, Nate."

"Please hurry."

The phone went dead. "Son of a bitch!" He threw the phone into the passenger seat and threw the truck into reverse. He activated the comm. "Guys, meet me back at the office ASAP."

TBC . . .