Caring takes Courage (1/?)

Fandom – Leverage

Rating – pg13

Pairing – Gen

Warnings – typical violence

Disclaimer – I do not own anything but the copy right to this story.

Summary – Nate hates getting shot, because then the rest of the team become protective and he can't get any peace.

There is a place for everyone and a job for everyone. Everyone knows exactly what is expected of them, and when things go wrong, it's not usually the Team's fault. The Mark either gets far too excited or agitated and then things take a different turn.

Surely standing in front of the Hitter is the wrong place to be when you're on the wrong end of a gun. And Nate could do well in a fight. Not as well as Eliot. But Nate learnt how to fight on the street as a teenager from the best thugs his father had employed to collect gambling debts. Still, with Eliot growling behind him, the Mark smirking and cocking the hammer back, all Nate could do was feint to the side and home to hell the bullet missed.

It didn't.

"Guys, please." Nate sighed exasperated. He was ensconced in his bedroom in his apartment with the rest of them standing around his bed. His bedroom is pretty boring by their standards. He only has a few mementos from when he was married, and the picture Sam drew him had honor on the right nightstand. There were a few lamps, a window with a brown shade that blocked out the sunlight now, and a TV. The attached bathroom was to the left with the closet and the door that led to the stairs is to the right.

He was dressed in hospital issued scrubs since the Doctor's had to cut away his clothes to get to his injuries. The bullet grazed his leg but didn't knick the artery; in that case there wasn't any way to save him. But he had to keep off his leg for a good five days to two weeks depending.

This meant that they all had to take some time off and take care of him; Sophie rallied them to this quest. And she seemed pleased that in some small way Nate was forced to rely on them. For everything; and maybe it was a bit embarrassing for him but Nate really didn't have a choice.

"We're not going to leave you here alone," Parker said. She pursed her lips.

"Yeah," Eliot agreed. He sported bruises from the fight but truth be told he was far too busy being pissed off at the Mark for shooting Nate that he didn't feel the punches that got through his defense.

"Yeah man, that was stupid!" Alec muttered. They were all sore at him, one way or another, for getting hurt on the job. Nate closed his eyes. Trying not to roll said eyes at them. When he opened them again he saw that they had taken the time to exchange worried glances.

"I did not set out to get hurt," Nate tried, "It was the gut or the leg, and I chose the leg." He shrugged.

"What?"

"Well, a gut shot is far worse to deal with." Nate replied. He'd had one of those two, early on in his Insurance days. He shuddered. Maggie had been beside herself with worry and while he had gotten over it; sometimes digestion was a pain in the ass.

"Next time stay behind me," Eliot muttered. He was far more angry at himself than at Nate. The whole thing had been an accident.

"Okay." Nate agreed, because he really just wanted them to go away. The whole ordeal had been very stressful.

"Well, I think we'll go down stairs and get organized, the pain meds they gave you at the hospital should knock you out in the next few minutes and we'll wake you up for supper." Sophie said, she clapped her hands and then shooed them downstairs.

Nate, finally alone, sagged into the bed. He was tired, and the pain meds hadn't dulled the pain much at all. His leg hurt like a bitch and he decided right then and there not to say anything about it to the Team. He always had this problem anyway. He couldn't change anything by complaining about it.

An hour later Parker softly poked Nate in the neck. He jerked awake, almost in a panic. But she just stared at him until he settled. Nate glowered up at her. "Must you do that all the time?"

"Yes." Parker replied, nonplussed. "Eliot let me help him with dinner," And then there was a tray and a set of strong hand helping him sit up and pillows being put behind his back. Eliot had made Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans for dinner. There was a can of sprite and a glass of ice on the tray as well.

"And after you can take more meds," Sophie said. She and the others were setting up a small card table. They were going to have their family meal in Nate's room to keep him company.

Alec and parker kept up some nonsensical chatter; something about human behaviors and how there were some Parker shouldn't do even though she thought those were practical. Nate wasn't listening. He tried to eat. The meds made him sick and he felt like up cucking anything he chewed.

Eliot watched him; not in the way where he thought Nate hated how he cooked, Eliot was the best Chef around and they all loved it when he cooked for them. No, this "watching" was the sort Nate got from his Mother when she thought he was being mischievous and trying to con her.

"Hey man," Eliot's rough tone had Nate looking up from the plate. Alec, Sophie and Parker tried to keep up a softer conversation out of politeness. Nate knew they were listening in.

"Are you feeling sick?" is Eliot's next question.

Nate blinked. He hated to admit it but the food didn't smell good at all and his head was swimming. He felt like he was ten feet underwater. Even his ears were clogged.

"I'm fine," Nate replied and then went back to eating only because he knew he wouldn't get better if he didn't, and he also did not want Eliot to worry. The Hitter was a mother bear at times and could be worse about the medical aspect.

Eliot grunted and returned his attention to the other three at the table. Nate was glad for this, but now it'd be harder to keep them from seeing things he didn't want them to know.

"What was that all about?" Sophie asked. She and Eliot had kitchen duty while Alec and Parker kept Nate occupied upstairs.

"I think the meds are making him sick." Eliot replied gruffly.

Sophie clucked her tongue; "Why didn't he say something at the hospital?"

"He was out of it, remember? He kept talking about bunny tracks and conning the rabbits with the Pigeon Drop." Eliot replied. He loaded the dishes into the dish-washer while Sophie rinsed.

"That was entertaining, did Hardison get a recording of that?"

Eliot chuckled; "Yeah, we'll black mail Nate with it if he ever gets out of hand."

"Ooooh..he won't like that."

"Too bad, he was stupid enough to stand in my way." Eliot muttered.

"Don't be too hard on him, he did try to get out of your way, and from what I saw on the video feed that Mark surprised you both and Nate really wasn't trying to get hurt." She pouted at Eliot. Who sighed and had to admit, though not out loud, that she was right.

"I guess."

Sophie smiled.

"And besides, now we have him at our mercy."

"You are an evil woman," Eliot started the dish washer and Sophie topped off her wine glass. She decided to drink it in the living room instead of joining Alec and Parker. The Doctor had been strict on his instructions and alcohol was out for Nate.

"I don't think he's going to cooperate very well." Eliot said. They sat down on the couch; he had a beer in hand. It was nice to be alone, just them. Alec and Parker usually took the attention of the room.

They probably had Nate banging his head against something upstairs, and they were happy to leave them to it. It served Nate right. And besides, they hardly got his attention to themselves as it is.

"Nate is a hurricane." Sophie said, "he swirls into your life when you least expect it and then he runs out on you thinking you'll be all right. But, that's not the reality is it?"

"No."

"No. We do need him. We found that out when he was arrested for those six months. We needed him like a plant needs water. Without it we just dry up and wilt. He doesn't understand that."

"No."

"Am I just going to get one word replies?" Sophie teased lightly.

"So how do we make him realize that we need him?" Eliot asked, not willing to make a metaphor himself; mostly because metaphor's are silly things.

"He needs us now to help take care of him. We need to impress upon him that we need each other. That he can stop hating himself and what he has become because we love and accept him for what he is." Sophie explained softly, gently.

Eliot scrunched up his eyebrows but didn't say anything for a long time.

"It'll have to be subtle," he muttered.

"You don't do subtle."

"I can when I want too." Eliot shrugged. He swigged his beet and Sophie sipper her wine.

"Well, we shall work on it in the morning. When we're done we'll get Parker and Hardison to let Nate be, he's probably going crazy." Sophie giggled. It wasn't a girlish giggle either; it was a giggle of a very classy, very evil woman.

Eliot shook his head. Nate is in good hands, as long as it was theirs and not someone else's.

Nate sighed. He felt hot and sweat was pouring from his brow as if he'd run a twenty-mile marathon. He had the ceiling fan running at high and the clock blinked, in red letting, that it was one in the morning.

He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since Sophie pulled Alec and Parker away at ten and sent them to their "home" (because it seemed that everyone just lived at his place) and Eliot helped him to get ready for bed. It was awkward and neither said anything. But the job got done and he'd been dressed in soft pj's and tucked (actually tucked) into bed. Eliot had threatened him a bit with a "I'll be down stairs" before disappearing and Nate tried not to move around in bed too much.

Of course those god awful pills had been shoved (well, not shoved exactly but close enough) down his throat and the pain dulled for ten minutes before it was roaring back to life.

Nate sat up and shucked his pj top and threw it onto the floor. He would open a window but walking hurt, and no way in hell was he going to ask Eliot to do it for him.

One because Eliot claimed he only sleeps for 90 minutes a day, which had to be bullshit. Secondly, if Eliot were asleep, Nate wasn't going to disturb him. It wasn't worth it. Really. He'll soon grow cold (because Boston is fucking cold in November) and he'd ensconce himself in the blankets once again. Still he felt as if he were burning up from the inside and it sucked balls.

TBC