A/N: So this is my newest venture...I've stopped counting how many WIPs that actually is. Meh. I blame my review addiction...anywho. I started posting about this idea on lj a while ago and deanangst has been patiently waiting for me to write and post it, along with providing me with encouragement and ideas, so, this one's for you chica! But yeah, this idea has been banging around in my head for a some time. Why the delay in posting, you ask? In a word: The Title.
Yes, I know that's two words. Here's the thing...the title, it's like your first impression. Even before the summary, even before the first sentence, the title introduces your story to the world. Pick the wrong one, and you're sunk before you've set sail (ohhh, sailing metaphores). And I feel strongly about titles, I knew I didn't have the right one and I couldn't post until I did. I even put feelers out on twitter for help (thanks to all you who suggested titles, btw!) but in the end, the name came from the best place, in my opinion. A song. A beautiful one at that and i hope you look it up. It's called Details in the Fabric by Jason Mraz. It's a beautiful song about feeling overwhelmed. About identity. About not being alone, having someone there for you where you didn't before. In a word, this song is about Eliot. Yes, I know that's not one word. And if Jason Mraz is reading this and saying 'that's not what this song is about' well, dear sir, I'm sorry, but that's what I see.
Now, to start us off...some Eliot!whump. Hope everyone feels compelled to let me know what they think of this! Enjoy -pj
If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything
Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything
Details in the Fabric - Jason Mraz (Select Verses)
oooOOOooo
Chapter One – Not Exactly Child's Play
Eliot had probably been a sniper at some point in the past. At least, Hardison was pretty sure he was. How else could he explain the way the hitter could sit still, focused, not moving a muscle, for hours at a time? Literally. Hardison saw him do it for three and a half hours once during recon.
Hardison sometimes had trouble sitting still through an entire episode of Psych without getting up for something at least once.
But not Eliot. Eliot was always in control. Always knew exactly what his body was doing and that it would not dare defy him.
So, understandably, the fact that Eliot kept shifting and fidgeting and moving during their job overview was distracting the hell out of Hardison.
Finally, after the third time the hacker restarted his sentence on just what exactly they needed to get for their client, Nate sighed, turning his attention to Eliot. Sophie was already frowning at him with something like concern and Parker was leaning out from her chair, studying Eliot the way she sometimes studied Sophie when she was flirting with a mark. Trying to figure it out.
"Eliot, what's the matter?" Nate asked, hoping that the hitter understood the sooner he told them, the sooner they could move on with the job.
Eliot grunted, "nothin'," and reached up and scratched at his neck. Nate closed his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. Apparently, Eliot was not interested in expediting this ordeal by just telling them what was wrong. For once.
Sophie's eyes narrowed just slightly a the hitter. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Eliot snapped, his hands moving to his chest and stomach, rubbing the material of his shirt against his skin.
"Are you itchy?" Parker wrinkled her nose, "you're scratching. You got lice?"
"No Parker, I don't have lice." Eliot growled, glaring over at the thief. "Can we just get on with this please?"
Truth be told he'd woken up last night feeling just a little bit off. His energy was down and he'd skipped his early morning run and indulged in an extra long shower in an attempt to be rid of the feeling. It hadn't really helped, but Eliot was an old pro at hiding injuries and sickness, so he'd been to the briefing on time as usual.
He was itchy as hell though, had been since he sat down for Hardison's presentation. But he did not have lice.
Sophie leaned a bit closer to him, catching sight of something on the side of Eliot's neck when he flipped his hair out of his face.
"Um, I think it's a bit more serious than that," she said, and Eliot didn't get a chance to ask what she meant before she'd reached over, nimble fingers untucking his long-sleeved shirt, and shoved it up to reveal his chest.
"What the hell?" Nate exclaimed, "Sophie!"
Eliot struggled against her to pull his shirt back down while Hardison tried to decide between horror and laughing hysterically. Parker just leaned in closer until she was practically in Eliot's lap.
"Why do you have tattoos of red dots on your chest?"
That caught Eliot's attention and he paused, frowning. "What?" He craned his neck to look down over Sophie's hands.
"Those aren't tattoos Parker." Sophie looked at Eliot and then looked over her shoulder at Nate, "he's got the chicken pox."
Hardison chose that moment to pipe up, apparently having gone the 'laughing hysterically' route.
"Chicken pox man? Isn't that a kids' thing?" He asked, looking far too amused.
Parker got a deeply troubled look on her face and started to climb backwards over her chair, putting distance between herself and the hitter.
"Chicken pox. Had 'em. Don't like 'em."
Sophie just shook her head, "Parker, if you've had them you're fine. Almost everyone gets them as a child," she glanced around and quick nods from Nate and Hardison confirmed that everyone else had had the chicken pox before. "You've never had them, Eliot?"
Eliot didn't answer, but instead managed to pull his shirt out of Sophie's grasp and started to stand.
"I'll just go home. I'll be fine.
"No, Eliot, you don't understand. Chicken pox can be really dangerous if you get them as an adult." Sophie started.
"I'm fine okay? Just leave me alone for a few days."
"But-"
"I mean it Sophie." He warned. He was not having this conversation. He could handle himself. Had been for as long as he could remember.
He wasn't about to be taken down by some kids' bird flu.
"He's grumpy when he's sick," Parker said in a loud whisper.
"How would u know?" Hardison asked, looking suspiciously between the theif and the hitter, wondering how much time exactly the two had been spending together.
Parker gave him a blankly inquisitive look and motioned meaningfully at Eliot. "Exhibit A."
They all watched as he moved toward the door, grumbling the entire time.
Sophie waited until Eliot was gone before she turned to look at Nate.
"Listen, Eliot puts on a good show of it but I really don't like the look of him," Sophie said urgently. When Nate made no comment she knew she wasn't the only one to have noticed Eliot's unusually pale skin and thin sheen of sweat on his brow. "Maybe one of us should stay with him."
Taking their cues from Sophie and Nate, Parker's discomfort and Hardison's laughter had been replaced by concerned frowns.
Nate tried to push it away, but Eliot's restless movements brought back the image of a sick, scared, young sam and the way he shifted around in his hospital bed much the same way. He reached up to rub his face and nodded.
"Yeah, okay," he said, looking back at Sophie, "you stay with him."
Sophie nodded dutifully. "I know a doctor who might be willing to see him if I ask nicely, I'll make the phone call."
He nodded and turned to the other two.
"Parker, go to the drugstore and pick up anything you think he might need. Hardison," Nate thought a moment, "you go along to make sure she doesn't steal it."
Parker made a pouty face, but brightened immediately when Hardison promised to let her drive instead.
"And you?" Sophie asked once the younger thieves had gone.
Nate sighed, resignation and defeat in his voice when he answered, "I'm going to pour myself a drink."
oooOOOooo
The team had been relieved when they discovered Eliot had had the sense to go to the small apartment he kept in the building instead of trying to get to the one he kept on the other side of town.
"Nate! Nate there's something wrong."
But that didn't make hearing Sophie's cry, or the run down the narrow hallway connecting their apartments, any easier to take.
"I can't wake him, Nate. He's muttering things that don't make sense."
The Eifel tower is a hell of a thing to wake up to. The light in Paris is golden and bright and it hurts his eyes. He calls out, not wanting to be alone, but there's no one to answer. And no sound. Anyway he can't really think about that right now. He has to go.
It's dangerous.
Something is dangerous here and he needs to get out. Needs to move. Hardison is sitting on the bed with a computer that's older than he is and it should be strange that he's here but it's not and where are his damn boots? He has to leave. Has to get himself and Hardison out of here so he needs his boots. It's dangerous. They have to go.
"Where's that damn doctor of yours?"
"He's on his way! But Dublin's a bit of a ways off, you know. It's going to take a while."
"Nate, why is Eliot making that face? That's not a good face, is it?"
"No parker, it's not."
"Didn't look like one."
He can hear his mother singing to him, somewhere in the distance and the dark. He knows she's beautiful even though he's never seen her face. Only angels sing like that and all angels are beautiful. He turns around and closes his eyes when the world swims. His head hurts. And he's hot. So so hot.
When he opens his eyes again Parker is grinning at him. She swishes around in her huge, blue ball gown and she wants to dance. She's already dancing, eyes sparkling at him like the diamonds she keeps hidden in her pillowcase but he's on fire and he can't touch her. He might hurt her. He can't let Parker feel the fire. Hurt her. Parker's favorite food is waffles. Parker will eat anything on waffles. Maybe Parker has put him in the waffle maker and that's why it's so hot.
"Alright, he's too hot. We can't wait for the doctor. Parker, go run a bath, lukewarm water, not cold. Sophie, find some clothes for us to put him into when were done. Hardison, help me carry him."
The dark is gone suddenly and with it the fire. He asks Parker what's going on but she just smiles and tosses a padlock at him and says she'll time him. There's something tickling his neck and he reaches up to brush off a dozen ants that are crawling across his skin and they itch like mad. There's still that singing coming from somewhere and he runs toward it because it's Safe and he can't remember the last time he felt Safe like that. But the shadows are thick around him and the singing won't stop long enough for him to call out to it. He falls hard into the darkness, his knees ache. But he can smell the wheat and the hay and the horses and that's what Home smells like so they have to be here somewhere. All of them. Nate and Sophie and Hardison and Parker. They have to be here somewhere.
The bath did what it was supposed to and when Nate was satisfied Eliot wasn't going to start having heat seizures, he and Hardison got him out of the tub and into clean clothes. After getting the hitter back to the bed, Nate collapsed into a chair, thoroughly exhausted.
He rubbed at his side a moment, hiding a grimace from the team. During the worst of the fever Eliot had started thrashing and kicking, muttering something about 'dangerous' and 'go' and it had taken all of Nate and Hardison's weight on him to keep him from rolling to the floor.
Hardison didn't seem nearly as tired as Nate, though, and couldn't keep still. Nate had finally sent him off to do some recon on the job to keep him occupied. They probably wouldn't be doing the job for a while now, but it beat allowing the hacker to worry himself to death.
Parker on the other hand hadn't laid a single finger on Eliot since he was diagnosed with Chicken Pox but, aside from her brief trip to the drug store, she also hadn't allowed the hitter out of her sight. Even now, she was propped up in the window of the fire escape of Eliot's bedroom. Unable to stand being inside, equally unable to leave.
Sophie was taking it all in stride with her usual grace. She sat on the bed beside the hitter, continuing to sooth the worst of the red rash with a cool cloth, sometimes speaking softly when she saw Eliot's brow wrinkle in a troubled frown.
She glanced up briefly when Nate left the room, and saw him come back only to come back a moment later. The demons and darkness in his eyes born of memories none of them fully understood kept her from saying anything about the drink in his hand.
TBC