My Leverage Muse not only left me a while ago, it packed its bags, took a train, crossed the border, headed to port, hopped a ship and sailed off to lands unknown. I had been well and truly abandoned. Then, a couple of nights ago, there was a soft tapping at my bedroom window and lo and behold, there it was again.
As I have mentioned before, I have absolutely no medical knowledge beyond that I have learned from TV, Google and second hand stories). However, I will say some of the medical in this is based on the experiences of a friend (FYI – happy ending there). This story in no way is meant to diminish or disparage the circumstance those with medical issues deal with on a daily basis. This if a fiction – pure and simple.
It started as something so simple. A bang to the head. Nothing more than what he was used to, happened before – too many times to count. Not a hard hit, just enough to give him a bit of a headache. Just enough of a headache that the others noticed.
"You OK Sparky?"
"Fine – guess I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Well duh – no one is." Parker grinned, but there was concern in her eyes. "You need anything?"
"No – I'm fine. Gonna head down to the kitchen and make sure everything is in order."
"Forget about that man. You do remember we have staff for that kind of thing. Pay them for it and everything. It's their JOB."
"It relaxes me Hardison. Told you, I`m fine."
Down in the kitchen, the staff and waiters noticed he was a bit off his game and kept an eye on him. Quietly. It didn't pay to make Eliot mad, especially when he was in 'chef' mode. The new guy wasn't aware of that – yet – and jumped in with both feet.
"You really shouldn't be cutting and cooking when you aren't at 100% you know. Easy to get hurt that way."
Eliot just glared.
"I'm just sayin'. Customers don't appreciate blood in the food." He grinned.
Eliot flipped his knife. Wisely, the young man took a step back, but didn't give up. "You wouldn't let one of us in here if we felt like you look. Here man, you look like you need a drink." He offered up a water bottle.
Eliot slammed his knife onto the cutting board and everyone in the room froze on mass. With his glare intensifying he turned toward his harasser. "What's your name?"
"Kevin. I was hired last week as an apprentice." The rest of the staff was looking at him thinking that this was going to be the shortest job listing on his résumé.
"Well Kevin – you're right. Annoying as hell, but right." Eliot walked out of the kitchen, giving the rookie friendly slap on the back as he passed, grabbing the bottle at the same time. Turning to his regular head chef he spoke under his breath. "Watch out for the kid – he'll own this joint one day!"
A few days later the headache still lingered. He'd been back at work, both Leverage and the Pub, and managed for the most part to downplay the problem. But ongoing proximity to his team and the kitchen regulars meant that no matter where he turned, someone was keeping tabs on him.
So, he wasn't surprised when a team meeting was called just before closing on the fourth day. They all acted as if it was a simple get together – catching up on what's new and what was next. But it was only a matter of time before the real purpose became evident.
"OK Eliot – 4 days is too long for a headache. You need to have –"
"My head examined"
"Well, not exactly how I would have phrased it – but yes." Nate smiled.
"It's fine. I'm fine. I've had enough cracks to the head to know when I need to do something about it" Even as the words came out, he knew he could have phrased that better.
"Enough cracks to the head? Don't you think that maybe that is part of the problem? Seriously Eliot, even you can only take so much damage you know." Sophie was clearly exasperated.
"It's not just us Sparky. The guys in the kitchen have mentioned you seem a little off down there too. And don't yell at them for letting us know. We asked them."
"Look – I appreciate the concern, but I keep tellin' ya – I can take care of mys…"
Nate cut him off. "Eliot, let's cut to the bottom line. You can agree, here and now, to go see a doctor or we can continue to press you about it. Each of us. Separately. EVERY day. 4 discussions, minimum. Daily. Get the idea. We can be relentless." He grinned. It was the old "evil Nate" grin. Eliot had not missed that grin at all, and was not happy to see it back. There was no arguing with the man when that look crossed his face. Worse, the others seemed to have picked it up as well.
"Fine. Kevin told me about a clinic near here. Tried to get me to go yesterday, and today. I'll go tomorrow. Satisfied." They kept staring. "I promise. Scout's honour." No comments. "What? You want me to bring back a note?"
Nate tilted his head as if considering the offer. Eliot took a deep calming breath and quietly left the room before his desire to punch something – or someone – became too strong to fight.
ONE WEEK LATER
"So Eliot…"
"Yes Nate, I saw the doctor and got back the results. And guess what. No concussion. Too bad I couldn't have saved everyone the time and energy and figured that out for myself. Oh – wait. I did."
Ignoring the slightly hostile sarcasm Nate charged ahead. "So why the headaches?"
"Maybe stress from people harassing me and forcing me to waste my time?"
"Your doctor work comedy on the side?" Nate looked up as he spoke, and was a little surprised not to see a grin on the hitter's face. "Eliot – you know we only –"
"I know Nate. I get it. Maybe I am a little tired. Maybe I really am getting to old for this crap anymore."
"Join the club. Seriously Eliot – if you think you need some help, or time or whatever you have to let us know. This isn't just for your sake, although God knows that's enough reason. We count on you to be on your game, for all of us."
"I know Nate – believe me, I know. Why do you think I agreed to get checked in the first place? When the time comes I can't take care of you – can't do my job – I'll make arrangements. You've got to trust me on this."
"I do Eliot. We all do."
Nate watched as Eliot headed out and down the hall, undoubtedly off to the kitchen. The hitter seemed to spend more of his time there lately. Cooking was his escape; his refuge when things got a little too intense, even for him. The fact that he was practically living in there for the last few days worried Nate a little. Clearly something was bothering Eliot. That was fairly easy to see. Getting him to talk about it – that was an entirely different matter. The best choice, only choice at this point, was to give it a bit of time. With any luck, the matter would resolve itself. Eliot was probably the most level headed of the group, and had an innate ability to work things out for himself, with much more success than any of the others had.
Eliot slumped back in exhaustion against the wall in the loading area. He'd passed right through the kitchen, needing a breath of fresh air before starting in there for the afternoon. His headache was pounding. Knowing the cause didn't help. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it certainly didn't help. He could feel the prescription bottle in his pocket. He reached into his pocket and grabbed at it, not pulling it out. He hated resorting to them and avoided them as long as possible. Too long according to the doctor. He fiddled with the bottle, scratching at the label with his thumb. He'd have the label removed in no time if he didn't get his nervous habit under control. Pulling it out he glared at the bottle as if the pills themselves were the cause of the problem, rather than the only thing that was going to make his life tolerable over the next weeks, or maybe months. No, not months. There was no way this could go on that long.
"You ok Chef?"
Eliot turned rapidly, surprised not only by Kevin's arrival, but by the fact he had not noticed him coming. His sudden move startled the younger man, but to his credit he refrained from jumping and running. "You looked a little shaky a minute ago. Thought maybe you could use this" he added, handing over a water bottle.
Eliot slipped the pills back into his pocket and accepted the drink. "Thanks – don't mind me. Just tired. You know – too much to do…"
"…too little time. Yeah, I get it. We got the kitchen under control if you need to be somewhere else. You've set us up like a well-oiled machine. Not that we don't like having you in there" he hastily added.
"Relax kid." Kid, he thought to himself. The guy was easily at least in his mid-twenties – when did that become a "kid" to him? "I'm just gonna check things over. Was thinking it might be time to shake up the menu a bit."
"Cool – if there is anything I can do…"
"I'll keep it in mind." He forced a smile past the headache. "Now get back to work before your boss finds out you're wasting time out here."
TWO WEEKS LATER
This couldn't be happening now. He was not going to have an attack in the middle of a job – his last job. This was not happening. But it was. The pain radiated through his head like a sharp blade, followed by the seizure. He forced himself to be still, not to shake as if he'd be caught in an 8.9 earthquake. Just keep it together a couple more minutes he kept telling himself. Get them clear and deal with the fall out later. He was too focused on control to hear the security guard until it was almost too late. At the last possible instant he saw the shadow the man cast and swung his arm to catch him across the throat. The guard dropped like a stone, and Eliot almost followed as the pain stabbed again.
"Hurry up Hardison, security is moving in."
"I'm moving as fast as I can here. Stall them."
Sure, easy. No problem. If he could stand up he could stall them. If he could stay standing he could stop them. He turned to lean against the wall. If anyone asked, he was keeping his back covered and watching for someone approaching. No need for them to know the truth; to know he needed the support to stay upright. The light was torturing his eyes, but closing the world out, even for a few seconds, was just not an option. Then he heard what he needed to hear, the sound of Hardison on the stairs. It was – yes – distinctive. Pushing himself off the wall, he made quick contact with Parker to confirm she was clear as well. She responded she was already waiting in the van, and what was taking them so long. He pushed Hardison ahead of him through the door. He could hear more security guards on their way, but fortunately a little too slow to be of any concern.
As promised, Parker had the van ready for them at the curb, and they were clear of the site in seconds. As long has Hardison remained distracted by Parker's driving, Eliot was in the clear. He leaned back, trying to stay out of their direct line of site. So far, it was working. Hardison was too focused on trying to hold on for dear life as Parker whipped Lucille around a sharp corner.
"Damn girl, slow it down some. 4 wheels on the ground is perfectly acceptable for a van. Back me up on this Eliot." When he got no response, he chose to use the silence to further his argument. "See girl, you've managed to leave Eliot speechless. Do you know what it takes to scare Eliot? You're gonna have him trembling in his boots in a minute." He turned to see if he had incurred the wrath of the hitter and was stunned to see his comment fulfilled. While not exactly trembling in his boots, Eliot definitely was shaking. His head was down with his hands covering his eyes, and he looked as pale as a sheet.
"What's wrong man? You hurt? What happened? Eliot talk to me. Eliot, talk to me or Parker heads to the nearest ER. Eliot?"
The hitter held up one shaky hand briefly. "Shut up Hardison – I'm fine. No hospital. Just need to catch my breath. Parker, slow down dammit."
"What's the matter Eliot? You hit your head again? Vertigo? What?"
"Hardison, drop it. I just need a minute to regroup. I'll be fine if the damn van stops rocking."
Parker slowed to a manageable speed and stability. It wasn't enough, but it did help him keep up the act a little better. A few minutes later he thought he was able to pull off being OK well enough to fool the others. The act lasted until they got to the office, and he had to get out of the van. The bright sun, the cessation of movement, and the exhaustion of the day caught up to him. As he stepped out, he felt his knees buckle. He reached back for support, but everything began spinning around him. Hardison saw him falling out of the corner of his eye and was able to catch him before he actually hit the ground. Parker grabbed for him as well, but he quickly shook them both off.
"Don't even try to say it – you're not fine."
"Yeah – I am. I just need some rest." Having found his footing he stormed away so they wouldn't be able to question him further. Had to get away from them before they started asking too many questions. Before they got an idea of how bad things were.
TBC