Title: The Vicodin Job
Author: indigominstrels
Artists: monica_catch22 (go to Livejournal for art post - can be accessed from either the author or the artist's livejournal)

Beta: violetknights


Disclaimer : Leverage and its characters are not mine and I mean no offence with this story.

Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Eliot
Rating: M
Genre: angst
Warnings/spoilers: pharmeceutical drug use/addiction, torture, fictional war crimes
Word Count: overall : approx. 64,200

Summary: When Eliot refuses to take on a job and then collapses unexpectedly, Nathan is there for him as he recovers. Once he's back on his feet again, Nathan is determined to find out exactly what went wrong and how Eliot became so very ill without anyone noticing but first he has to help Eliot fix his relationship with the rest of the team.


Chapter 1

Nathan sat silently in the corner watching his team, watching the individuals react to the situation before them. They were quieter now, quieter than when it had all gone to hell back in the office. They'd been in the conference room, Hardison had been holding forth, filling them in on the details of their latest job and Eliot had objected.

That should have been enough, enough to have had Nathan Ford backing him up. Fuck! It should have been enough to have warning bells ringing in everyone's ears but no, no they tried to shout Eliot down and stick with Hardison's original plan. The plan that had relied on Eliot's brute strength. Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to control the rage that seethed inside, trying to keep himself calm. Hindsight was a terrible thing.

If only they'd paid more attention at least . . . at least the final words before this would not have been in anger, would not have left Eliot feeling like he wasn't worth shit. Eliot had tried to tell them and they'd ignored him. Nathan had seen the look of defeat in his eyes, watched as he'd stood, said calmly, "Think again, I'm not doing it," and begun to walk towards the door.

He hadn't made it. Halfway between his seat and the door Eliot had collapsed and now here they are sitting in a private room in a hospital, waiting for someone to tell them what's happening and what all the machinery attached to Eliot is and what the fuck they are going to do to fix it. But what Nathan really wants to ask is how the hell is he going to be able to fix the rift between Eliot and the rest of the team? And even more importantly between Eliot and himself?

He doesn't know how to even start apologizing for not noticing that something was really wrong, because there's no way that Eliot 'just' collapsed without warning…

The door opened and a doctor stepped in, "Mr. Ford? Could I speak to you for a moment outside, please?" Nathan stood and started to follow the doctor before he felt the eyes of Parker, Sophie and Hardison on him. He shrugged. He wondered for a moment what they expected him to say, but then just turned back and followed the doctor without a word. He found himself led down to a small office where it was quiet, isolated. He sat on the chair the doctor offered him without saying a thing, dreading instead what he was about to hear.

"Mr. Ford. I have a problem," the doctor began. Nathan's eyes were piercing, he'd been in this situation before with Sam and he didn't know whether to be afraid that this was as terrifying as it had been when the doctors were talking about Sam. He lifted his eyes slowly to watch waiting for the words that would follow, that Eliot's condition was terminal and nothing could be done to save him. "My problem is this, Mr Spencer is in a very vulnerable position and some medical decisions need to be made. There is some irregularity to the information I have available about him. His insurance is in order to cover treatment at this stage. . ." Nathan expelled a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding in relief that the insurance wasn't the problem this time. "Mr Ford, we need to make some decisions with regard to the course of action, but we can find no reference to next of kin, no medical history that would match with the gentleman in there, given the quantity of scars and signs of previous injury there should be something available, something more on record. So far, you have been our source of information, but . . ."

"Many of the injuries were obtained in service overseas," Nathan replied quickly to forestall the line of inquiry. It wasn't a lie as such; plenty of Eliot's injuries were obtained overseas in warlord torture chambers. "He would not have had access to immediate or even conventional medical care for many of them." The thought went through his mind that his Eliot deserved better than this.

"I need to contact his next of kin, Mr Ford," the doctor reminded him.

"He has no biological family left. I am his family." It was the truth, but clearly not what the Doctor wanted to hear. "If you need a family member to make a decision on his behalf, I will do that for you."

"Mr. Ford . . ."

"No, you listen to me. There is no one else, has not been anyone else for a long, long time. I care for him, I will take on these decisions he needs someone to make. I am not just his employer, we are . . . partners; we are together." No secret was worth this, if Nathan had to shout it from the rooftops to save Eliot then he would, everyone who wanted to judge could be damned. "When he recovers, when he has healed, if he objects then both you and he can sue me for my actions, but right now, someone has to make the decision to keep him alive. You tell me what you need to know, you tell me what is happening to him. You tell me what you are going to do to save him for me. He can't die, do you understand that?" Nathan snapped his lips shut, trapping the rest of his words inside, the begging that wanted out. He lost Sam and he was facing the prospect of losing Eliot and he couldn't do it.

Not Eliot. He'd have been dead time and time again, if it weren't for Eliot. Hell, he'd be the walking dead with more alcohol than blood in his system, if it weren't for Eliot. He owed Eliot so much and Eliot deserved better.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Mr Ford, exactly what you know about Eliot's condition today."

"We were in a conference; the discussion was slightly heated about certain aspects of the business matter. Eliot stood up to take a break from the discussion; he was half way across the room when he suddenly collapsed. He had said nothing before that to indicate that he felt in any way unwell." Or not in so many words, thought Nathan, as if saying they were wrong about what they were expecting him to be able to do shouldn't have been enough.

"He's carrying a number of injuries, more recent injuries. I'm assuming he isn't still serving overseas."

"No, he's involved in security in our company. At times, it is a job that has required a physical response from him."

"I don't know what your company does, Mr Ford, but I would suggest that you need to be looking for a new security detail. Eliot is not going to be up to any 'security' for quite some time . . . if ever."

"I don't give a damn about the work, he is what matters. What is . . .?" Nathan felt himself choking on the words. "What's wrong with him?"

"At the simplest level, he's here now because he's taken an overdose." Nathan gasped in surprise. Of everything he'd thought could be wrong, that hadn't even been a consideration. The doctor continued to speak, "Now, you need to understand what we're talking about here. I'm not talking a simple overdose, as if there ever was such a thing, but let's say my current thought is that this is not deliberate. My suspicion, and with Eliot unconscious I can't directly talk this out with him obviously, although maybe you could enlighten me. Anyway, my suspicion is that he has been in pain, considerable pain for some time and that he has been taking painkillers to try and deal with it. Over time he has increased and increased the dosage that he has been taking, trying to cope. There are a number of difficulties associated with medicating for pain relief, one of which is that the body can develop a tolerance for the drugs, which then seem to necessitate in higher doses to achieve the same effect, however, it will carry the risk of overdose."

"So you're not suggesting he's tried to commit suicide?"

"No, Mr Ford, I'm not suggesting that at all. I think this is an accident in that sense, however, it clearly indicates some very serious issues that presuming he survives and regains consciousness, he will need to deal with. Firstly the injuries and pain he's in will need to be dealt with in order to minimize their effects. I would like to take x-rays, possibly an MRI to establish exactly what problems there are and what we can do to help. Secondly we're going to have to break what amounts to an addiction to the painkillers he's been taking. I suspect they've become a coping mechanism. We can help with the process of withdrawal, even with the process of managing afterwards but he is going to need more than that, he's going to need to commit to rehabilitation. He is also going to be in need of friends who are going to support him and help him, not people who may inadvertently or otherwise pressure him into situations that would have him reverting back to drug usage. It may be that he needs to change his career path."

"What needs to happen for him to be well. . . what do you need to know? How do we fix this?"

The doctor sighed, "Mr Ford, it isn't a matter of just fixing it. The first thing that needs to happen is that Eliot will need to actually accept that there is a problem and that he wants to fix it."

"He knows," Nathan said sadly. "I think he knows, I think he's been trying to tell me something was wrong, I just didn't hear him right."

"Well, if that's the case it will make what comes next a fraction easier on you both. I can give you the name of some rehabilitation programs that might be of interest. I should warn you though, Mr. Ford, you both have a difficult time ahead of you. Getting free of an addiction is a difficult process, and believe me, not just for Eliot."

"I know, believe me, I know. Thank you," Nathan nodded, accepting the handful of offered leaflets, promptly folding them and putting them in his pocket to read later, when he was alone with Eliot.

This wasn't Eliot's fault, this wasn't like when he himself had tried to drown himself in liquor and he wondered if he could keep it away from the others. Eliot was a private man, as they had grown closer so Nathan had realized how different the real Eliot was from the public persona, how almost vulnerable he was. Eliot wasn't weak, but he was self-contained, self-reliant and even accepting that he was part of a team had been a huge hurdle for the young man. He would take on the burden of protecting the others fervently but he hadn't yet really come to terms with that being a two way process. Even with Nathan, Eliot seemed more at ease when he was cooking and cleaning and generally busy doing something for Nathan, than when they were just relaxing together or when Nathan was cooking for him. At first Nathan had thought it was because Eliot was so good at cooking that he would fret over something not being done just right, but time and persistence had shown that it was merely the having something done for him that he hadn't in some way 'paid for' that was the problem.

"Can you give me any ideas as to what he's been taking and for how long?" the doctor interrupted Nathan's internal debate.

"Ummm, God, I mean I know he takes Vicodin, I've seen him take that. There's always scripts and bottles of it around the apartment but I've never really noticed how often or how much he's taking. I mean, he knows when he's in pain so I figured he knew what he was doing and . . . and they're all properly labelled bottles, or at least they look like they are, like I say I've not paid that much attention to them. You know, he just soldiers on, even when you can see he's in pain, he just keeps on going."

"Has he shown any unusual behavior patterns in recent times?"

"Unusual? Unusual how?"

"Needing more money, taking off on his own unexpectedly, moodiness, vomiting, dizziness? Anything that you wouldn't expect of him?"

Nathan's head dropped forward, his forehead resting on his palms. He let out a deep sigh before saying quietly, "Apart from the money thing, yeah, he's done all of them, but you know, he's used to being independent, to shooting off on his own and dealing with stuff, that's not going to be new in his life. Being moody too, I mean, we've had to make some adjustments, learn to fit round one another, there are certainly plenty of times when I've had to bite my tongue because he's done something I didn't want him to, I'm sure he feels the same about me!"

Nathan rubbed his hands over his face before looking up at the doctor and saying, "How bad is this?"

"Eliot collapsed, he hasn't regained consciousness yet, we are having to assist his breathing and monitor his heart rate because it keeps dropping too low. I'm sorry but in all honesty, right now it couldn't be much worse."

"You can fix this though, right? You can fix this?" The doctor could hear the desperate hope in Nathan Ford's voice and frowned. "I can't lose him; you have to do everything you can."

"We are doing, Mr Ford, but even if we can get him through this, it's not going to be over until he's not taking Vicodin anymore and even then life may be a struggle for him at times. Dealing with addiction, Mr Ford, is never an easy thing."

"Get him awake and strong enough and I'll get him whatever he needs to get off the Vicodin. There's the programs, right? That's what the leaflets are, so we can get him help." Nathan was already standing as if it was something he could get on to straight away.

"Yes, there are programs, if he gets through the next few hours, wakes up and with no further complications. Then all you need is for him to agree to treatment, then, yes, there are programs. We can advise on the ones that would most suit Eliot's needs once we've spoken to him. I want to head back now; there are some things I want to check over on his notes and to see how he's doing."


Nathan followed the doctor back down to Eliot's room, where the others were still waiting for some indication that Eliot was going to live. "Okay, I'm going to ask you all to step outside for me now. I'd like Eliot to have some peace. It might be as well for you all to go home at this point. Mr Ford, given our conversation, I'd like you to stay if that is possible."

Hardison started to object, but Nathan cut smoothly across him, "The doctor's right. We have to put Eliot's needs first at this point. I'll stay and you know I'll call if there are any changes."

Sophie interjected, "So far, he hasn't even given us a reasonable explanation for this! What does he know? Are you sure . . .?"

"He knows more than we do, Sophie. He knows what Eliot needs." Nathan ignored the narrowing of her eyes and continued before she could start again, "He says that Eliot needs quiet so that's what we do. Like I said, I'll call if there's any change, good or bad. Eliot isn't going to be alone . . . I'll be here."

Nathan was cool, determined. He didn't give the others any chance to object just ushered them out of the room. "I'll be in touch when I know more."

He turned to go back into Eliot's room, forestalling any further discussion by closing the door behind him. He leant back against the door, half his attention on the doctor examining Eliot and half listening for the sounds of his colleagues beyond the door. Finally he heard them move away, and so with a sigh he stepped away from the door, moving across the room to take the seat on the far side to the doctor, taking Eliot's hand in his own.

He kept a firm hold of Eliot's hand, his eyes soft with worry and affection as he looked at the younger man's face, half concealed by an oxygen mask.

"Can I ask you something else?" the doctor disturbed his contemplation again and he looked away from Eliot, up to meet the other man's eyes with a curt nod. "This –" the doctor nodded in the direction of the hand Nathan was holding, "Do your . . . friends know?" Nathan shook his head in response. The doctor sighed clearly considering something before he spoke again, "I thought that might be the case given . . . given how you were all seated. Part of Eliot's problem is the secret he has been keeping, or rather secrets . . . He's been in pain, not told anyone, he's taken Vicodin to control the pain, not told anyone when the prescribed dose wasn't enough, taken more. You said he was suffering from vomiting and dizziness, how do you know?"

"I heard him throwing up."

"You go to him?"

"No," Nathan shrugged, "He's a guy, you know, he's got his pride. Eliot's . . ." Nathan paused trying to think of the right word, "independent. He doesn't like attention."

"Well, he's not going to have that option anymore. He's not going to just be able to throw this off, just make a decision to stop taking these drugs and that'll be it. If he's as independent as you say, you're going to need to break through his barriers and find a way to get him to accept help. Believe me when I tell you that even if he wants to stop this, he can't do it on his own. He needs support. I very much doubt that he will be able to get through this without help and if he continues to take the Vicodin in these quantities . . . his future is looking very bleak, Mr. Ford."

"But it's Eliot. . ." The doctor frowned, until a slight groan and shift of movement drew both their attention back to the man in the bed. Nathan leant forward, focusing his concern into the attention he was now giving to stroking Eliot's hand, at the same time as calling his name softly, "Eliot? That's it, come on, you can wake up now, El. Open your eyes."

Eliot's head tossed restlessly against the pillow, until Nathan lifted his other hand up to stroke the hair back from Eliot's now sweaty brow. "Come on, Eliot, it's time to wake up now. Open your eyes."

Eliot's eyes scrunched tighter closed and he groaned again. The doctor lifted the oxygen mask away and began to coax a response from Eliot as well, his voice gentle and reassuring. Eliot's head tossed again back and forth, finally settling toward the doctor. Nathan felt a sudden surge of jealousy, if Eliot was going to wake up now, he was going to wake up and see him first, not some freaking jackass doctor who thought he knew what it meant to be Eliot.

He began to murmur soft reassurances, an endless stream of nonsense to draw Eliot back to him. He saw the doctor smirk at his reaction before stepping back and heading to the adjoining bathroom. When the doctor returned he was carrying a cool wet cloth, which he handed over to Nathan with the words, "Very gentle, cool his face down. Keep your movements soft and slow. Keep reassuring him, draw him back to you."

The doctor then turned back to the machines monitoring Eliot's vital signs, leaving Nathan to continue his ministrations.

Suddenly, the thrashing stopped and Eliot's eyes snapped open, and Nathan felt his own heart jolt at the fear and pain he saw in Eliot's expression. "El, hey, I'm here, glad you are too. You're awake now." As Eliot's eyes seemed to search the room for some indication of what was happening, Nathan began to explain, "It's okay. You're in hospital now, we're going to help you, we're going to get you all fixed up. It's going to be fine."

Nathan hadn't expected the tears that had welled in Eliot's eyes, the look of distress that had settled on his face or the hoarse choked, "I'm sorry, so sorry," that had slipped from Eliot's lips.

As Nathan instantly tried to reassure him, he'd also not predicted the way in which Eliot had tried to curl on his side, as close to Nathan as he could get, but Nathan had responded instantly, leaning forward and instinctively placing a gentle kiss on Eliot's forehead, one hand gently running across his cheek as the other soothed down his arm, trying to ease Eliot to turn on to his back again, but Eliot's hand clutched at his arm, trying to keep him close, more apologies falling in the quiet of the room.

Nathan stood up, firmly pushing on Eliot's shoulder until he laid back down on the bed, "Lie down, El, lie down. It's gonna be okay. The doc's going to fix you up good to go. Then I'll take you home and it'll all be fine. No more apologies now. It was an accident, not your fault."

The doctor sighed, it wasn't that he wanted Eliot carrying guilt, but the young man needed to know that things had to change, no medic could just fix him up good to go without him committing to change.

"Mr Ford, I need to talk to Eliot honestly now." There was a clear emphasis on the word and Nathan knew what the doctor was saying. Eliot had to face what he'd been doing, had to change if he was going to survive. "Would you mind stepping outside for a minute or two?" He saw the panic in Eliot's eyes at the prospect of Nathan leaving and stepped forward, saying, "Eliot, a couple of minutes that's all, we need to talk about what happened to you and what's going to happen, what ineeds/i to happen now."

"Nate?" Eliot's voice was hoarse and agitated. "Nate?" he breathed the word out again.

"Two minutes that's all, just a few minutes and I'll be back." Nathan stood, gently extracted himself from Eliot's hold and headed for the door, almost as if despite his concern for Eliot he was relieved to be leaving the doctor to explain what had happened and what was wrong. By the time the door closed softly behind him, Eliot had shut down; fear, pain, anxiety everything locked away, easy to ignore if it hadn't been seen before.

The doctor crossed to Eliot's side, "Do you mind if I listen to your chest? You were having some breathing problems earlier; I'd like to just check how everything is doing now." He moved closer, beginning his examination as he continued to talk. "Do you know what happened, Eliot?"

"Felt strange. We were in a meeting. I didn't feel good, I remember I was going to leave but the feeling just got worse."

The doctor nodded sympathetically, pleased that the young man before him seemed to be answering truthfully, before encouraging Eliot to talk more with further questions. "Was it the first time you felt strange like that, Eliot?"

He watched as Eliot flushed with embarrassment before answering. "No," was the quiet answer. He prompted the young man to explain further and Eliot began, "I've been having dizzy spells. I thought I was tired, you know. I've been trying to get more rest, it's got to be like a flu or something, right? I just feel drowsy so often and I get dizzy when I stand up or when I turn quick or . . . it's been getting more frequent."

"I understand what you're saying. Eliot, have you had any other changes in your health? Any other things that you feel you've been struggling to cope with?" Eliot turned his face away, nervously biting on his lip. "Eliot, let me help you with this . . . Mr Ford and yourself . . ."

"Nathan," Eliot said quietly. "His name is Nathan."

"You and Nathan are together, right?" Eliot gave a hesitant shrug. "He's worried about you, wants to help, I think." Eliot started to draw his arms across his chest, only for the doctor to stop him moving the hand with an IV in it. "You've not told Nathan that you've not felt well."

Eliot shook his head. There was a pause for a time before Eliot said, "I've been feeling nauseous and . . . and throwing up some."

"Yeah, how long's that been going on?"

Eliot half-shrugged, "I don't know, just a bit on and off, I guess, it's been a while. You – you know what's wrong with me?"

The doctor didn't answer straight away, busying himself instead with packing away the oxygen for the time being. Finally he drew a breath, "Eliot . . . do you ever take painkillers?" Eliot's eyes widened in shock, but he nodded. "Vicodin?" elicited another short nod. "Eliot, how long have you been taking Vicodin and how many do you take in a day now?"

There was a silence in the room, broken only by the slight wheeze of Eliot's breathing. The doctor watched him carefully, ready to pull the oxygen back across and re-administer it if there was any further deterioration in his breathing. "Eliot, can you answer those questions for me?"

He shook his head before stammering out, "V-vicodin? That's what did this? It's why I – I . . ." Sudden tears welled in his eyes before he forced out the words, "I never meant for this to happen, I never – it was just . . . The – the pain was . . . this is my fault, I'm not ill, it's my fault!" He dashed a hand across his eyes, "I fucked up!"

The doctor stayed calmly sympathetic, "Eliot, this is not that simple. It's not a matter of it being your fault, it is not that you aren't ill. You've been in pain, you took the Vicodin to help with that, but now it's time to stop. We need to find another way to deal with the pain and we need to help you stop taking the Vicodin because it is making you ill. I've spoken to Nathan about this . . ."

"You – you told him?" Eliot's voice held a clear note of horror. "Nathan knows!"

"Yes, Eliot, Nathan knows. We've talked a little about some of the options available to you. There are programs that can help you deal with this addiction."

"I'm not addicted. I don't need a program, I need to get out of here. I need to get away." Eliot was pushing himself up, tearing the IV line from the back of his hand and the pads attached to his chest. "Where are my clothes? Where are my fucking clothes?" he demanded.

The doctor stepped between Eliot and the door, palms up to try and calm the younger man's reaction, while still pressing his point, "Eliot, this is a problem that isn't just going to go away. You can't keep taking the Vicodin like this, it's killing you."

Eliot pushed the doctor's steadying hand away, as his vision swam and he grasped at the bed for support instead. "My clothes?" he demanded again, less forceful, more desperate. "I can't be here, I can't do this now. I need air, I can't breathe, I need air."

The doctor rapidly readied the breathing mask and pushed it towards Eliot, "Breathe with this while we discuss this. Eliot, leaving now, that's not a good choice to make. We can help you if you stick around, we can find some people to help you long term."

"No I want out, I want to go now," he panted through the mask, closing his eyes at the pained sound of his own chest.


The last thing Nathan had expected when the doctor had asked him to leave the room was to find Eliot exiting the same room a mere twenty minutes later, kind of dressed although judging by the amount of items on backward or only half-buttoned, to say actually dressed might be somewhat misleading. He stood and headed over to Eliot who looked about ready to collapse again, but with a look of distress on his face that Nathan just wanted to wipe away forever.

Nathan made it to Eliot's side, "Eliot? What's going on?"

It was a clear sign of how not right the whole situation was when Eliot jumped, shocked to find Nathan beside him. "Fuck!" he gasped.

The doctor was right behind him. "Eliot, please. Let us help you." But it was too late, Eliot was already storming away down the corridor, the way his head was moving made it clear that he was seeking the exit. The doctor sighed and said, "If you can change his mind, we're here and we'll help. Just bring him back in and ask for me. Right now though, he's not listening to me and he's determined to leave. I've advised him that he's not making a good choice at this point but I'm sorry he really isn't listening . . ."

And those words made the reality hit home, Eliot was leaving, denying that there was a problem, denying himself the help he needed to kick the addiction and it was up to Nathan to fix it. He ran swiftly after the younger man, grateful that he knew the way and that Eliot was slowed down by having to work out where to turn.

"Eliot, is this wise? You know the doctors here can help with this. They can put us in touch with people who can help more. . . I don't know why you won't accept their help, maybe you could explain it to me, El. I want to understand." When he heard the rasping breath that was sawing in and out of Eliot's lungs, knowing he'd heard it before and thought that Eliot had had the start of a chest infection. He'd never imagined anything like this. He took hold of the younger man, slowing his flight. "Stop! Slow down! I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to, just slow down before you collapse again and have to stay!"

Nathan finally managed to get Eliot to stop, breath heaving frighteningly. He gently swept his hand through the hair that was hanging forward, hiding Eliot's face, "Don't do this El, don't run away from me." Eliot stood stock still for a moment, before leaning forward into Nathan's embrace. "I've got you, El, I've got you." He felt as the last of the adrenaline subsided, as Eliot's weariness overcame him and guided him to sit on a nearby chair, ignoring Eliot's whispered objections. Once there and seated, he pulled Eliot closer, arms wrapped securely round him, pulling Eliot's head to rest against his shoulder, hand sifting through his hair, relieved as the harsh wheeze gradually eased from the younger man's breathing, until it could barely be heard over the other sounds of hustle and bustle round the hospital.

"Where do you think you're going, El?" Nathan murmured softly into his hair, one hand still holding him close, while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Where do you think you're going without me?" He felt as Eliot's breathing hitched for a moment, but just maintained his hold and the steady rhythm of circles until Eliot relaxed. "Tell me, El."

Eliot didn't lift his head, just shook it and Nathan knew then that Eliot was running on nothing more than fear and adrenaline. The need to escape had been paramount and he'd acted on it, with no idea where to go or what to do when he got there. Nathan just tightened his grip and gently guided them both to standing, with murmured reassurances of 'home' and 'rest' and 'taking care'. He guided Eliot out of the hospital doors and flagged down a cab that had just dropped someone else off, asking that the cab driver take them home as quickly as possible. He eased Eliot down into the back seat before following him in and keeping him securely tucked into his side.


Author's Notes: This story is complete in 12 parts but will take me a little while to repost here. I shall work on it as quickly as I can. Helpful feedback is appreciated. Many thanks for reading.