TITLE: The Naming of Things 2/4

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 Tenth in the Unnamed series. With Blackpoole taken down Nate is free to build a new life for himself, but first, he has to completely shed his old one. Change is both wonderful and painful.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place after The Second David Job and bridges the gap to The Beantown Bailout 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 NOTE2: I lied. This part of the series is going to be in four pieces, not three. Also, because I'm a spaz, I feel I should include a general warning. No one should try to undergo alcohol detox without a doctor's supervision. There, public message finished.

Eliot lay beside Nathan on the king size bed, watching as he shifted uneasily in his sleep. He'd been waiting for room service when he realized he hadn't heard the shower start up. Concerned, he'd started to the bathroom to check on Nathan when he'd discovered him in bed, still fully dressed. He'd woken briefly as Eliot pulled off his shoes, but had quickly fallen back to sleep.

Eliot had cancelled his room service order and undressed, climbing into bed with him. Eliot wanted to reach out and hold onto him, but he wasn't resting well and the sweat had started to matt his hair to his head. He felt it was best to leave him alone and let him sleep while he could.

A low groan escaped Nathan's lips and Eliot brought his attention back to Nathan. His eyes were moving rapidly under his lids and another sound of distress escaped. Eliot frowned and double checked the time. He wasn't cycling through sleep properly. It took about an hour and a half to complete the sleep cycle and have an episode of dreaming. It'd been a little less than an hour.

Nathan started to become more agitated, tears leaking from beneath his closed eyelids. Eliot scooted forward and put his hand on Nathan's chest. "Nate, come on, man. Wake up. It's just a dream. Come on. That's it. Open your eyes for me, Nate."

Nathan blinked up in the dark, a sob caught in his throat. When he realized it was Eliot leaning over him he grabbed onto his bare shoulders and pulled himself into Eliot's chest, wrapping his scent around him. He tried to pull the comforting scent of Eliot's skin through his lungs and into his bones.

Eliot put his arms around the other man and leaned back, bringing Nathan in against his chest. "It's okay. I've got you, Nate. I've got you." He placed a kiss on the top of Nathan's head, hand rubbing along his spine, still unhappy with how thin Nathan was. He had been looking better, but he still looked wrecked. And now the withdrawal was making him appear strung out and on edge.

He held him like that for a long time, whispering nonsensical things into his hair that offered no meaning except comfort. When Nathan finally calmed down, and his breathing eased, Eliot squeezed him tighter. "Must've been a bad dream. Was it about Sam?"

When Nathan remained quiet Eliot shifted so he could glance down at his face, checking to see if he'd fallen back asleep. "Nate? You with me, man?"

Nathan took a deep breath and clutched to Eliot tighter. The dream had followed him up out of sleep and it was still coloring his perceptions, tinting everything with a surrealistic quality. When he was sure he could speak without his voice betraying his fear, he cleared his throat. "It didn't make any sense. It was just a weird, crazy, mixed up dream."

Eliot winced at the dry croak of Nathan's voice and nodded against the top of his head. "That's the withdrawal." He was quiet a moment. "What was it that scared you so bad?"

Nathan sighed and Eliot felt his muscles relax a little but he didn't let go. The trembling in Nathan's limbs made him seem vulnerable, fragile. It brought out every protective instinct Eliot owned.

"It was mixed up. I was in a plane and then I was somewhere lying on the ground and an animal of some sort was standing over me, its belly right against my face. I couldn't breathe." He stopped and clutched a little tighter. "And I was all alone. Everyone had left and I was alone and I couldn't breathe . . ." He stopped as another sob broke free. He clenched his hands tighter, eyes screwed shut; embarrassed by his lack of control.

Eliot pulled him closer, rocking a little as he dropped kisses on Nathan's hair. "It's okay, Nate. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, darlin'."

* * *

Eliot brushed Nathan's sweat soaked hair away from his face and rubbed his back as Nathan eased himself back down from his most recent bout of vomiting. It had now been ten hours since Nate's last drink. The shaking had started after only a few hours. Since then they'd progressed to sweats, vomiting, headaches, irritability, and anxiety. Eliot reached over and flipped on the light to get a better look at Nathan.

Nathan buried his head in the pillow. "Damn it, Eliot, warn me before you do that!"

Eliot swiped at a piece of hair that had escaped from his ponytail and sighed. "Nate, turn over here. Let me get a look at you."

"Nng."

Eliot pressed his lips into a thin line and took a hold of Nathan's shoulders, turning him over. He looked at Nathan's eyes as he blinked up at Eliot owlishly. "Wow, your eyes hardly have any blue showing. How are you feeling?"

Nathan tried to turn back over and bury his head once more, but Eliot's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He needed a fucking a drink. He glared up at Eliot and tried to lick his lips. "I'm fine. Stop hovering, Eliot. You're driving me crazy."

Eliot rolled his eyes as he brought up a glass of water, steadying the glass so Nathan's shaking wouldn't spill it onto the bed. The sheets were damp enough from Nathan's sweats that they didn't need to add to the moisture. "Here, you need to drink some water. I don't want you to have to get an IV if we can help it."

Nathan took a couple sips from the glass before pulling away and grimacing. Eliot helped him get settled back on the pillow and he closed his eyes, fighting his stomach's attempt to expel the water.

Eliot took a cloth and wiped at Nathan's sweating brow, trying to keep some of the sweat away and keep his lover comfortable. He frowned as he watched Nathan's hand come up and rub at his right eyelid. "What's wrong?"

Nathan tried to fight back the rapidly growing feeling of hopelessness. "Nothing. My eyelid is twitching." He turned his head away, shoving at Eliot's hands as they tried to dry his brow.

"You're really shaking, Nate. Are you sure you don't need me to call the hotel doctor?" Eliot placed his hand on Nathan's shoulder and squeezed gently.

Nathan shook his head and bit his lip at the nausea cascading through his belly. He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I need a fucking drink, Eliot."

Eliot sighed and ran his hand through his own hair before dropping it back down onto Nathan's chest. "No, Nate, you don't. You're doing so well. I know you feel lousy, but this is what needs to happen. It will go away, I promise."

Nathan groaned and turned to his side, curling in on himself. The tension inside him was incredible. He needed a drink. It was more than he could bear. He felt an unsettling rumbling in his stomach and uncurled himself, sitting up, pushing Eliot away. "Bathroom!"

Eliot grabbed the trashcan and held it up. "Here, I've got it. Don't try to go to the restroom."

Nathan shook his head and managed to crawl out of the sweat soaked sheets. "No. I don't have to throw up!"

Eliot watched as Nathan stumbled into the suite's bathroom. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to unknot the muscles there. He just had to keep reminding himself that this was harder on Nathan than it was on him.

* * *

"Eliot!"

Eliot finished toweling off and hurriedly wrapped the towel around his hips as he trotted back out into the bedroom. He'd been sponging off, afraid to leave Nate's side even long enough to take a proper shower. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Nathan was standing by the bed, still shaking, pale, and squinting as if his head was about split open. "Something's wrong!"

Eliot gathered Nathan in his arms, hand automatically going to his carotid to check his pulse. It was beating strong, but fast. Eliot brought his hand up to rub through Nathan's hair as he sat them on the bed, cradling Nathan against his body. "What's wrong, Nate?"

"I don't know. I can't . . . I don't know. Something's wrong."

Eliot hugged Nathan tighter, arms trying to still the shaking in his sweaty body. "Shh, it's okay, darlin'. Tell me what's wrong."

Nathan clutched at Eliot's arm around his chest, trying to calm his breathing. He needed this to end. He couldn't think clearly. "I don't know. I'm scared, I can't think. I'm just . . ." He reached up and rubbed at his eyelid.

Eliot frowned down at him, heart dropping just a little as he saw the open expression of fear on Nathan's pale, damp face. He started rocking back and forth a little, frowning as he watched Nathan rub at his eye. "Your eye still bothering you?"

Nathan pressed the heel of his hand into his eye socket, jiggling it back and forth to try to dispel the feeling, twitching at the crawling sensations on other places on his body. "My eyelid won't stop jumping. My heart is beating so hard, like it's going to jump out of my chest." He tried to control his breathing, tried to relax back into Eliot's arms and his still damp chest. When a sob broke free he tried to pull away, rubbing at the skin of his abdomen.

Eliot held on tighter and buried his face in Nathan's hair. "Nate, it's okay. You're having a panic attack. Just calm down and try to breathe with me, okay? You've got to calm your breathing or you'll hyperventilate."

He hated this! He fucking hated seeing Nathan in pain and so fucking scared. And there was absolutely nothing, short of giving him alcohol, that he could do to ease his lover's suffering. "Shh, come on, Nate. Take some deep breaths for me. Come on, you can do it." He narrowed his eyes as he noticed Nathan rubbing his skin until it was red. "Are you itching, feeling like you've got bugs crawling on you?"

Nathan shook his head, curling his fingers into his palm, trying to resist rubbing at the sensation in his skin. He tried to take a deep breath through the tight grip that had seized his chest. He tried to concentrate on the soap and faint musk smell of Eliot's bare skin under his cheek.

"Are you sure? You need to tell me, Nate." His voice came out in a low growl, his own anxiety making him irritable. Eliot watched as the other man's eyes flicked over the room, failing to settle on any one thing. He cupped Nathan's face as he nodded his head, thumb stroking his stubbled cheek. Perhaps he needed something to take his mind off of things. Eliot dropped a kiss on Nathan's head, nuzzling in behind his ear a moment, and searching for a distraction.

He'd tried to show Nathan his feelings over and over, but this was the first time he was going to say them aloud. It probably wasn't the best timing, but he was desperate for a way to get Nathan's mind off of what was happening. He just hoped that Nate was in a place he could accept it. He thought about what he was about to say, his own heart beating a nervous staccato. "You know what I love about you, Nate?" He held him closer, waiting for rejection.

Nathan grasped tighter onto Eliot's arm and closed his eyes, listening to Eliot's heart beat, trying to get his own to slow from its frenzied, trip hammer dash, to match his lover's slow, rhythmic heartbeat. He was a little nervous, even baffled about what was going to come out of Eliot's mouth. Eliot did touchy feely almost as well as he did. For Eliot to actually speak about this . . . it was going to change things between them.

Eliot licked his bottom lip as he watched Nathan's eyes close, a look of determination settling over his face. But it wasn't a rejection. He felt some of the weight on his shoulders lift a little. "I've known a lot of people, Nate. There are so many people out there, just trying to survive. They're so busy with their lives, so wrapped up in what will get them ahead; they don't see the other person." He stopped and ran a hand through Nathan's hair, paying particular attention to a scar just under his hairline. "But you, you're different. You see people, Nathan. You are so deep in your own pain and yet you see others, you see their pain. And you don't ignore it, Nate. You bust your ass to help them. Always have. You're a good man, Nate. There aren't many of those left."

Nathan felt a dry chuff scrape past his peeling lips, leaving his chest hollow and aching. "As long as you don't call me Charlie Brown." He licked his bottom lip, still fighting the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and fear that tried to claw its way out of his gut. "So that's why you love me, huh? Because I'm a good man?"

Eliot felt his lips twitch in response. Nathan's nervousness was tinting the edge of his voice, painting it a nice soft yellow. His frail attempt at humor was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. It was a way for Nathan to cover his own insecurities. It was a way for Eliot to gauge just how much what he'd said meant to his lover. "Well, that, and your tight ass."

Nathan laughed and squeezed Eliot's arm around him tighter. It would be a very nice place to be if he could just get to feeling better. "I don't feel good, Eliot." He stopped, hope and fear clenching fiercely in his chest. "I need a drink. Just one drink, Eliot. Just enough to take the edge off."

Eliot clasped at Nathan, worrying over how fast his heart seemed to be beating. "No, Nate. I'm not getting you any alcohol. You're almost fourteen hours into this. That's fourteen hours you'll never have to spend like this again. Just take some deep breaths." He continued to murmur into Nathan's hair, rubbing circles along his chest and abdomen.

* * *

Eliot put the lid back on the plastic bowl full of soup he'd had delivered for Nathan and shoved it into their small refrigerator. He was worried about Nathan's inability to keep anything down, as well as the way sleep seemed to elude him. Even water was making him throw up, and if he wasn't able to keep Nathan hydrated he'd have to call the hotel doc to hook him up to an IV. Eliot frowned and grabbed up his own plate with his bleu cheese burger and Cajun fries. He'd ended up having to leave his first responder's bag and stash of medicine when they'd had to vacate the apartment. He really needed to get a hold of some new supplies. He didn't like feeling unprepared.

Sitting on the couch and keeping an ear out for Nathan, he allowed himself a moment to sink back into the cushions and relax. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. With Nate unable to sleep he hadn't been able to get decent rest either. He just wanted to take a moment to settle down and breathe the clean air. This was the first time he'd allowed himself to spend any extended amount of time away from the bedroom.

The smell of sweat soaked sheets and stale vomit seemed to adhere to the walls. It had gotten so bad it felt like the odor of illness coated Eliot's nostrils and slid down his throat. He'd changed the sheets and sponged Nathan down, too afraid to let him shower because of how unsteady he was, but it didn't seem to make any difference. It was as if the air itself had soaked up the chaos of Nathan's withdrawal, turning the room into a dark and barbed environment. Uninhabitable.

He bit into his burger, taking a moment to actually try and enjoy his food. It wasn't easy. His gut had been churning right along with Nathan's. Hope and pride warred with his feelings of anxiety and fear, the mixture of such extreme emotions making his stomach feel raw, bloody.

There was a thump from the bedroom and Eliot's jaw clenched down on the food in his mouth.

"I said no! Now leave me the hell alone! Just fuck off, you filthy son of a bitch!"

Eliot managed to swallow the fry in his mouth, coughing slightly as the strangling sensation of it trying to go down his windpipe caught up to him. He dropped the container with his food in it and jumped up from the sofa. When he got to the bedroom he saw Nathan standing at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around his head, eyes screwed tightly shut. "Nate!"

He came around the large king size bed and grabbed Nathan's biceps, trying to force his arms down so he could get a good look at him. "Nate! Hey, Nathan, look at me." He shook him a little, trying to gain his lover's attention. "Nathan! It's Eliot. Fuck, man. Snap out of it."

Nathan dropped his arms and glared into the corner of the room, shouting, his arms jerking free of Eliot's grasp as he started forward. "How dare you say that to me. You have no right!"

Eliot swallowed down the burger that was trying to come back up on him and stepped in front of Nathan, grabbing a hold of him tighter this time, trying to catch his gaze. "Hey, I need you to look at me. Nathan, come on, darlin', please look at me."

Nathan tried shoving at the person holding him back, determined to shut the other man up. When the fingers around his arms clamped down painfully, he pulled his attention to the person in front of him, blinking in confusion.

Eliot tried to smile as Nathan finally focused on his face, sweat beading on his upper lip. "You with me? Nate, you recognize who the hell I am, right?"

Nathan grimaced and brought his hand to his face, rubbing at the feeling of crawling along his cheek and neck. He swallowed and tried to get his mind to focus. "Eliot?"

Eliot felt the painful constricting in his chest ease as Nathan finally focused on him. "There you go. What's going on, Nate? Who are you talking to?"

Nathan glanced back over at the corner and licked his bottom lip before looking back at Eliot. He felt his gut turn to water and the fear turn his mouth to sand. "Fuck."

Eliot grabbed on tighter as he felt Nathan's shaking increase. "Come on, let's sit down here." He tried to lead Nathan back over to the bed, but the other man wouldn't budge. Eliot stepped back, scowling. "Nate, I need you to sit down a minute."

Nathan pulled out of his arms and paced to the other side of the room, rubbing at his forehead. "I don't want to sit down, Eliot. I need to move, to do something. I can't stand this . . . this sitting around here. I need to be doing something."

Eliot glanced at his watch and grunted. It was only about twenty three hours since Nathan's last drink. He crossed his arms, reminding himself that the mood swings were part of the withdrawal and that he couldn't take it personally. He watched as Nate continued to pace, rubbing at his skin. "Do you know what day it is?"

Nate turned and glared at Eliot, irritation tightening the band squeezing his head and making it hard to think. "Yeah, it's Saturday, we're in Boston. I know who you are and who I am. I'm not crazy."

Eliot shook his head and sighed. "No. You're in withdrawal. Nate, I'm just trying to make sure . . ." His eyes widened and he started forward as he saw Nathan growl and make a move for the nightstand. "Nate, No!"

Nathan whirled and yanked the phone out of the wall, throwing it before Eliot could get to him. "I said shut the hell up! You lousy son of a mongrel whore!"

Eliot pulled up short, ducking as the phone flew just to his left, toward the corner Nathan had been yelling at earlier. He blinked at the broken pieces of plastic and electronics littering the carpet, and the decent sized hole in the sheetrock before turning back to Nathan. "That's it." He came forward and grabbed Nathan by his arms, forcing him to sit down. "Don't try to get up, Nathan. You might be bigger than me, but we both know I can keep your ass on that bed if you give me reason."

He walked away, pacing back and forth, still breathing hard, adrenalin and fear still coursing through his veins. "Fuck!" Eliot rubbed at his own head with his left hand as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

Nate was watching the corner, but looked at Eliot when he saw him pulling his cell phone out. He jumped up and tried to grab it. "Who are you calling, Eliot? I'm not going to rehab. I don't need rehab."

Eliot jerked the phone out of reach and put his hand on Nathan's chest. "Sit down, Nathan. Do you understand what's happening here? You're hallucinating! That could be a symptom of the DT's! That's fucking serious, Nate! People die!"

Nathan shook his head, grabbing onto Eliot's arm. Tears pooled in his eyes, turning the blue of his irises into sun-dappled water. His teeth clenched as fear spilled into his stomach, sour and acidic. "Please, Eliot. Don't. Don't make me do that again. I'm fine. Please, don't leave."

Eliot bit his lip, trying to keep the sneer off his face. Fucking Sophie! If she hadn't pushed Nate into rehab before he was ready he wouldn't be terrified of it! His attention was pulled back to Nathan as a sob broke free and he started trembling harder. Eliot pulled him into his arms and sat down on the bed. "Okay, Nate. It's all right." He put his forehead against the top of Nathan's head and tried to think.

It was time to bring somebody in on this and he needed someone who would bend the rules. "Okay, Nathan. I'm not going to send you to rehab. I promise. I'm going to call a buddy of mine. But no rehab."

A few phone calls later he'd managed to get in touch with James, a friend of his from his days in the service. Lucky for them, he was also a doctor. Another call to the concierge and things were under way. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked down at Nathan fidgeting on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Nathan shrugged, ire gone for the moment. "I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Eliot shook his head and squatted in front of Nathan, putting a hand on his knee for balance. He took Nathan's wrist in his hand, glaring and squeezing hard when Nathan tried to jerk it away. He watched the time on his watch as he counted Nathan's pulse. He sighed and let go before running his hand through his hair. "It's fast, but not to the point that we need to be concerned. How are you feeling?"

Nathan looked away and started brushing at the skin on his arm. "I'm fine. I just . . . I don't feel well. He licked his lips and turned his attention back to Eliot. "He's not real, right?"

Eliot took hold of Nathan's hand and stopped him from rubbing his arm raw. "No, Nathan. He's not real." He stood up and pushed Nathan back onto the bed, scooting him over so that he could sit next to him, hip brushing his side. "Whoever you're seeing is not there. It's just you and me."

Nathan licked at his bottom lip, eyes narrowing. "It's my father. But that doesn't make any sense, right? My father is dead, right?"

Eliot bit the inside of his bottom lip, thinking about his answer. Truthfully he didn't know. They hadn't talked much about each other's pasts. It was safer that way. "Yeah, Nate, he's dead."

He placed his hand on Nathan's chest, rubbing small circles, trying to ease the tension vibrating through his muscles. "I have a friend who's living in Hartford. It'll take him a couple hours to get here but he's good and I trust him. He's calling in some prescriptions for you to a local pharmacy and I've arranged with the concierge to have them delivered here to the hotel. Once we get some medication into you you'll feel better."

Nate looked up at him, the suspicion showing clearly in his eyes. "What are you going to give me?"

Eliot stilled his hand, and then started the motion up again; reminding himself that he couldn't take Nate's suspicion personally. "I'm going to start an IV and we're going to get a mild sedative and something to help with the hallucinations. You trust me, right? I ain't going to give you anything that'll hurt you. You know that."

Nathan looked back at him a moment before finally closing his eyes and rubbing at his forehead. He swallowed and bit his lip, shoulder coming up a in a jerk, like he was trying to pull away from something. "Hurry."