Notes: This chapter was written as a series of prompts (When the Bandages Come off, Sensativity to Light, Too Proud to Ask for Help, It's in the Accomidations they Make for him, Without the Trainning Wheels, and Vulnerable)
Blind Man's Bluff
Thirty days.
Thirty days in darkness.
Thirty days of learning how to not see, how to not drive, how to take someone to the grocery store because he couldn't read the boxes on the shelves, how to bite his tongue and his pride and use a blind man's cane when he went out of the house because he was only so good.
Thirty days of learning to swallow his pride on a whole lot of other matters.
Thirty days of waiting for this one day.
And here they were, back in the hospital, back in the room he'd spent the first few days in, waiting while the doctor (He never did know what the doctor's name was, he couldn't see the name tag) finished the last few tests.
He could feel the others around him as much as he could hear them, knew they were there. The hope and fear in the room were practically tangible things riding around in the air making conversation impossible.
Then the door opened and the doctor came in, exchanging only the basic pleasantries before saying it was time. Quick, efficient, hands touched Eliot's shoulder to let him know they were there before moving to unwrap the bandages from over his eyes.
The material fell away and Eliot had to suppress a wince, it had started to feel almost like his skin.
The last layer was removed and then the padding and then four words they'd been waiting for for thirty days came.
"Eliot. Open your eyes."
He didn't right away, it had been a month and Eliot had a brief moment where he'd all but forgotten *how*. He took in a breath against the panic, against the sudden dread that in seconds any hope he'd see again might be gone completely, against everything he'd been warring against in private drawing strength from the others without letting them know he needed it.
Slowly, feeling like he was waking from a long dream, Eliot forced his eyes open.
A soft cry escaped his lips only a second later and his eyes slid shut, a hand covering them against the sharp agony of the room's over bright lights.
But even as he did so he was smiling, eyes watering and maybe not all from the pain.
Because for those few brief seconds he'd fought the light and tried to focus his eyes the blurred blobs in the room had cleared and sharpened and the first thing he'd seen in thirty days had been his team, whole and together once more, waiting to welcome him back to the land of light.
oOo
It was just a little too much, a bit (okay, more than a bit) more than he could handle.
If anyone asked that was why Hardison was out on the roof, sitting with his legs dangling over the side (and when had he become this comfortable with heights? Oh, right, Parker), staring into the sunset.
There had been too much going on. Too many lows and highs and those painful can't breathe moments at either extreme.
Five weeks ago there had been a high as he burst from the building, shouting insults backwards as he narrowly escaped capture in a job gone south. He'd felt invincible, right up until he realized only Parker was with him.
That was when the low hit. When they realized Eliot was back inside. When his com cut off and they knew he'd been caught. When they raced for hours to try to rescue him before it became a matter of retrieving a corpse.
Then another high as they pulled a con in eight hours flat, walking in to find Eliot alive followed by a low as they took in the damage. Blood everywhere, all over his skin and face, his eyes closed and each breath sounding more painful than the last.
They got him out and he was in surgery, a high and low coming in a single blow as the doctors told them Eliot would live only to tell them he might never see again.
Somehow, that was almost as bad as losing him.
The rest blurred out for a bit. Sophie's return, Eliot's absolution of their guilt, the days in the hospital, the days of recovery and adaption, and everything slowly returning to almost normal somehow. Then there was the job, getting Eliot back on the bike of crime and the victory for all of them when he did so.
And then, the ending of thirty days, when the bandages came off and Eliot opened his eyes. That brief moment when his dilated eyes focused, recognition on his face telling them all Eliot had seen them before that tiny cry of pain escaped Eliot's lips and they knew something was wrong.
There had been more tests and more questions and more medical babble before the doctor finally told them what was going on. Eliot could see but his eyes were still damaged, his pupils were no longer able to dilate and contract in response to light properly and the damage as well as the procedure to save his vision at all had caused hypersensitivity.
The doctor had tried to simplify it. "To Eliot a well lit room feels like he's staring into the sun."
It was hard to get his mind around. Eliot could see but at the same time he couldn't. Hardison used to think sight was a pretty binary concept but he knew better now.
That was three days ago and they were still trying to adjust. Eliot with bandages around his eyes, a sight they'd all gotten used to, had become Eliot with big dark sunglasses even inside. Hardison knew there was a joke there somewhere, something about Cyclops or maybe aviators or something but he couldn't bring himself to find the funny.
Even if he could briefly forget the reasons Eliot always wore shades, that the blinds in Nate's apartment were always down and the lights dimmer than they used to be, or that Eliot was as likely to be reading a book written in brail as in ink… Even if Hardison could forget all that he couldn't find the funny.
The cane that was still kept by Nate's door, the sound of it tap-tapping on pavement whenever they went outside during the day chased the funny away.
They'd learned the moment they left the hospital that there was no protection strong enough against a sunny day. Never one to hide from a fight, even one he couldn't win, Eliot had retrieved his cane and closed his eyes, resigning himself back to blindness when he couldn't stand the light.
Hardison was a thief and a night owl and had always thought of night as his time, but it had only been the past few days he started to feel a personal hatred toward daytime.
The last rays of sunlight were peeking out from behind the city's buildings when Hardison heard the roof's door open and the tap-swish-tap of Eliot making his way across the roof.
Hardison didn't turn around, he'd come up here to not think about what was happening, even if it was all he'd managed to do.
The tapping stopped and Eliot eased himself down to sit next to him on the edge. Hardison looked over, seeing Eliot had taken off the shades now that night had fallen and brought the light to a bearable level again. "We need ta talk." Eliot said, laying his cane down on his right and looking over to Hardison.
Hardison looked up, meeting Eliot's eyes for the first time in what felt like years. "What about?" Hardison asked, feeling a little awkward.
"It's been four days." Hardison nodded. "You're trying to… I don't know what but stop it. As annoying as you are, it's more annoying when you're trying not to be."
Hardison blinked, trying to process. "Are you complaining because I'm… not teasing you?"
Eliot's sigh was long suffering. "I'm complaining because you all keep acting like I'm going to freak out. Shit happened, I got hurt, things aren't ever gonna be the same again but we can make it work. I'm ready to move on." He closed his eyes, rubbing at them with one hand and Hardison looked away. He didn't know if he imagined the soft. "please" Eliot may or may not have tacked on to the end.
It was too much, it was all too much, and all Hardison could do was sit there and stare out as the city woke up and Eliot put his shades back on against the artificial night.
When they finally got up to leave they still hadn't said anything. While Hardison watched Eliot stand, a hand up to keep his shades in place Hardison made a crack about getting him goggles like Riddick. It wasn't the best reference ever and Eliot glared and mumbled about geeks and freaks.
But when Eliot turned away there was a hint of a smile on his face and something in Hardison's chest loosened. Things would be awkward for a while yet, but Eliot was ready to move on. Like usual, the others would just have to try to keep up.
oOo
Parker knew Eliot thought there was something wrong with her. She knew the others thought there was something wrong with her. She knew that the world thought there was something wrong with her.
Which was only fair, recently at least, because she was pretty damn certain there was something wrong with the world.
She didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it. It made her stomach hurt in a way it hadn't for a long time to think about what happened to Eliot. What happened to Eliot because she and Hardison screwed up and almost got caught. Eliot said it wasn't her fault, even told her privately after he told the rest of them, but it only made her feel a little better.
There was something wrong with the world. She'd always told herself that sometimes things just go wrong but seeing Eliot like this?
There was something wrong with the world.
She had watched from her perch on the roof of a building across from Eliot's apartment building as he exited the building, his cane already tap-tapping in front of him to find a safe path. He had picked his way across the uneven sidewalk for nearly a block before a sound caught his attention and he turned sharply, trying to identify the possible threat.
He took a step to the side, moving instinctively to put his back to the wall and Parker watched it happen. He hit one of the places where the old sidewalk was cracked and crumbling at an odd angle, his legs buckling as he tried to keep his balance and scrambled for stability. Unable to see what was stable and what wasn't his attempt to find flat footing ended up with Eliot barely catching himself from face planting onto the concrete.
All but lieing on the concrete, his cane thrown out of reach in his attempts to not fall, and his shoulders slumped in a way that made Parker hurt inside in her special angry place… this was just wrong.
There was something, no a lot of things, wrong with this.
It was the work of only a moment to get down to street level and Eliot was still collecting himself when she got there. The others had told her to give Eliot space, that he was too proud to ask for help and too stubborn to accept it so they shouldn't even try.
But Parker thought there was something wrong with that to.
If Eliot's too proud to ask for help and too stubborn to accept the offer why give him a choice?
Silently as possible Parker picked the cane off the ground and set it down back within Eliot's reach, backing away just as silently.
She was back to her perch by the time Eliot had gathered himself and was continuing down the road and Parker decided that since Eliot was too proud to ask for help and no one else would be giving it that left it up to her to look after him. Quietly. He'd never even know and they'd never have to be awkward.
She was pretty sure she was successful on all regards until she found a bag of fortune cookies waiting for her at her usual perch one morning with a note asking if she'd like to actually walk *with* him to Nate's on the street like a normal person this morning.
Eliot was too proud to ask for help, too stubborn to accept it, but Parker learned that he wasn't too much of a bad guy to be grateful.
Two days after getting the verdict on his sight, that he would always have impaired vision, always be all but legally blind, Eliot came to Nate's apartment early. The others wouldn't be in for a little while and he needed to do this.
They didn't exchange niceties when Eliot came in, resting his cane next to the door, and saw Nate looking at him over the top of the newspaper he'd been reading. Nate continued to watch him and Eliot figured Nate knew, if not why, then at least that Eliot wanted to talk to him.
oOo
"I want to take the next job off." Eliot said, mentally wincing at the way it sounded but he couldn't figure out any way to make it better.
Silence lingered a long time and Eliot mentally tried to put together some kind of explanation that didn't sound half-ass and like he was running away. How do you tell someone that you, someone famous for control and focus, are having time finding any of either. How do you tell someone you're trying to protect the team by taking away their usual protection?
How do you do that without admitting you just don't trust yourself right then?
How do you admit you don't trust yourself at the moment without making the person worry?
Nate puts down his coffee mug and folds the newspaper closed and gets up, it took Eliot a moment to realize he was getting more coffee and starting to make himself breakfast. Eliot wasn't sure what he expected to say but "When I tell them I've decided you're sitting our next job out be angry but not too upset or they'll do everything in their power to get you back on the job." Thrown over his shoulder wasn't it.
Eliot didn't thank Nate, not for accepting his request without an explanation, and not for letting him save a little face in front of the others.
But he did take the cereal box Nate had been studying from his hands and make them both a real breakfast.
It was a half hour later, when they were both quietly finishing up the food Eliot made that broke the silence. "You don't have to answer, actually I don't want you to, but why do you want the job off?"
Eliot doesn't answer and Nate doesn't mind.
It takes a few hours for Eliot to admit to himself that he feels like he's lost *something*. He's not even sure what it is he lost.
The next few days pass in a mixture of a blur and sharp clarity. He struggles through the little things only a little more easily from his intermittent vision. More than one new hole decorates the walls of his apartment as he looks for some way to vent his pent in frustration.
Yet there are moments. Sophie showing up to take him grocery shopping like she has twice a week since he was blinded, Parker watching from a distance she doesn't think he knows about, Nate replacing every light in his apartment with a lower wattage that made the room just dim enough that he could take his shades off for short periods of time…
A conversation on the roof with Hardison and the geek finally starting to joke around again, even if the teasing comments were a little forced.
It was after Hardison had gone back down, after the sun had set and artificial light filled the Boston night.
It was a long time that Eliot stood there, absently knowing that he should go home soon. If it got too late Nate would insist on someone driving him home or that he took a cab rather than letting Eliot take the bus and walking.
That was when it hit him. He'd lost his… something.
His independence? The team had always depended on him for protection and now they were taking care of him. No, that he could get back in time. He'd get that back more if he did the job and proved he could do it still.
His focus? His confidence? His ability? No… he hadn't lost those. Had them shaken a little. It would take time to get them back to normal.
Somewhere behind him he heard the door open and the distinct silence of Parker in motion. He smiled a little at that. The one time he'd made a comment like that out loud Hardison's "You identified Parker by what you didn't hear?" and his own "It's a very distinctive silence" playing through his brain.
Maybe this was one of those distinctive silences? Something you couldn't identify by it's presence but it's absence. Something he'd never lost, or maybe never had to lose.
Eliot's cell phone went off and he opened it. Nate was on the other line. "Sorry if you were heading out but I just got report about one of our potential clients. Timeline's been moved up and if we want to do this we need to put the pieces into motion now."
"Got it. I'll grab Parker and we'll be down in a minute."
A half hour later Eliot was still waiting for Nate to announce he was sitting this one out.
He wasn't focusing too much on it, admittedly, the object in his lap requiring a good deal of his focus not dedicated to Hardison's verbal briefing. Hardison had designed this tablet, computer screen, thing that Eliot would never admit but was pretty ingenious. It had a flat surface with little bits that raised like brail to mimic the big screens and a raised cursor to cue him to where to "look". Hardison had given it to him, no questions asked, and Eliot had nodded his thanks. No one had mentioned that the mere idea of watching a brightly lit screen for as long as a briefing lasted made Eliot eyes hurt and head pound.
The next click of Hardison's remote brought up a set of blueprints, with a list of others along the right side of the screen. Thin but obvious lines raised across the screen, mapping out the locations they might be, on some little shapes appeared and Eliot realized it was markers for furniture.
It took a couple more minutes for the thought to fully process and solidify into something Eliot could identify. When It did he opened his eyes and looked up, not surprised to see Nate watching him.
Eliot swallowed the very undignified sensation making it's way up his throat as he wrapped his mind around the idea. He identified whatever he'd lost by it's absence. But right here right now… it was here. It was here in the team and these little things they did for him. When he could practically beat them over the head for not going out to find a hitter who could protect them instead of one they had to protect (he'd ignore the difficulty they'd have doing just that) and instead they made their jobs that much harder to make him able to do his job.
He wasn't sure what it was he'd lost, or if what they were giving back to him was the same thing, but maybe that wasn't the point. He'd muddle through this and figure it out as they went. But he needed them and they needed him and he was going to ignore how screwed up all of that was and focus on getting through whatever this was and being ready to take the next hit thrown their way.
He met Nate's eyes across the room, or as close as he could get his eyes to focus on them, and held his gaze a long moment before turning back down to the tablet.
The briefing went on and Nate never once even suggested that Eliot sit this one out.
oOo
They're still working out the kinks.
That's what Nate keeps telling himself.
They're working out the kinks. And there are bound to be plenty when you consider what the kinks are being caused by. With anyone but Eliot Nate isn't sure they'd be able to work out the kinks at all.
But as it is there is adjustment. They can't have Eliot doing anything that he'd have to drive himself to during the day, and even at night is a chancy business at best. Chaotic places were difficult for him to function at his usual level in, most of his sound cues drowned out and people jostling him was probably disorienting at best.
The roles he can play in a con have become rather limited, though Sophie pointed out being blind could be an asset to charming his way into a woman's good graces. The fact it was now pretty much a given that everyone, the team included, was bound to underestimate him on some level couldn't completely hurt.
But he was still functionally blind in brightly lit areas and sight impaired at best in dim ones. He was memorable, and in a way that made it rather hard to convince people you really had met before, and with his sunglasses indoors and at night and the cane he used outside he was more than a little conspicuous.
So yeah. There were a few kinks to work out. And there was a lot of other reasons to be careful about Eliot. Hell, Nate had been almost worried Eliot really would sit this job out.
And Nate knew that if Eliot sat this job out there was a good chance Eliot would be the next team mate to go on a sabbatical.
Only with the number of enemies Eliot had out there, and the fact it was only a matter of time until they found out he was blind…
Well if Nate was honest with himself Eliot was probably running out of time until the safest place he could be was with the rest of the team keeping an eye out for enemies who knew how to use Eliot's handicap to their advantage.
So yeah, that was why he had told Eliot to stay back and babysit Hardison while the rest of them went in. They had had to move too fast to do this job for the type of planning and prep they all had put into the two jobs they'd done since Eliot's blinding. He was just being careful. It was his job to be careful.
Except, well, things were doing what they tended to do.
Go south.
A little quick maneuvering and they'd be fine, it would just take some talking and conning and he and Sophie would be out right as rain. Parker was already nearly out of her break in and things were going fine.
Then, then over the coms he heard Hardison say. "Uh Nate, we have a problem here?"
"What?"
Eliot responded. "Either the mark's hiring from the local talent or we parked in some gang's turf." There was a gunshot. "They took out our engine block. Looks like the training wheels are off boss." Then came the two words Nate had been growing a steady hatred for. "Under way."
It was a military term Nate wasn't even sure Eliot was aware he'd slipped into habit of saying as a way to let them all know he was taking out his com the better to hear everything else.
It was also Hardison's cue, when he was with Eliot, to shut up so Eliot could focus.
Which, with nothing he could do for them besides getting out of here fast, was what Nate would have to do now.
oOo
In his life Nate had been handed plenty of opportunities to contemplate life's apparent appreciation of irony. There was at least one bonus of this. He didn't have to waste time doing so again now.
If Nate was honest it hadn't been the crunched time line that had Nate on edge. They may have only had three days, but they'd worked with far less time before.
It was that this had been their first job without the training wheels.
It was that, even if all his alias's medical files now read "vision impaired" rather than "blind", even if he could see under certain conditions and his vision could improve in time (or get worse)…
That H word they couldn't bring themselves to say, even if Eliot had never backed down from using it, owning it…
Eliot was still handicapped. And even if he wasn't as badly as before he'd never reach the level he'd been at before. Now they protected him as much as he protected them.
Now Eliot was the V word none of them would say.
Now Eliot was vulnerable.
Now their white knight protector who nothing could touch and nothing could phase… was vulnerable. He was the vulnerable one now.
And in the end life had shown Nate irony by taking Nate's attempt to keep Eliot safer for just this one job and making it end up with Eliot fighting a gang, outside, in the middle of the day.
Not that Eliot seemed to mind, judging by the smile on his face when they met up at the end of the job.
They'd done a job without training wheels, with Eliot's issues, with the team still trying to fill in the gaps left over, with all of them desperate to make this work.
They'd made it work.
Afterwards they celebrated, going out to dinner. To an actual dinner because they could instead of because Eliot was too hurt to cook or whatever.
None of them addressed Parker's statement that had come as part of the chaotic argument in favor of eating out. "Family eat's out together to celebrate."
They'd gone out to dinner and gone to one of those little out of the way places with the dim lighting and lit candles and with only a little careful maneuvering to block the candle from Eliot's direct line of sight he was able to take his shades off and for a brief few minutes they were able to pretend like nothing had ever gone wrong.
It lasted until Nate realized Eliot had managed to wait to be the last to order and ordered a mix of things others had ordered.
Eliot hadn't been able to read the menu.
Nate added that to the ever growing list of blunders they'd made that he didn't even begin to know how to fix.
He hadn't even gotten a chance to try when Eliot cut himself off mid tease to Hardison and looked at the restaurant's front door and the two men who'd just walked in. "Those two guys are cops, detectives judging by their trench coats." He said, his voice pitched even not to attract attention by being too loud or too soft.
"Very distinctive coats?" Hardison asked.
"No." He answered not looking away from where they were talking to the host, squinting and blinking his eyes like he was trying to make them focus and Nate winced internally. They wouldn't focus, they couldn't. "Stance says cop on official business and trench coats aren't exactly standard issue." Eliot explained, finally looking away and rubbing at his eyes, his head cocking slightly to the side as he tracked them with his hearing since he couldn't with his eyes.
"They aren't looking our way." Sophie said simply. "They're not here for us. Why would they be?"
The next thing Nate knew Eliot shouted "Get down!" and had all but tackled Hardison, pulling him out of his chair. Nate was too busy doing as told, Eliot had used what Parker had once characterized as the "Eliot saw bad men with guns" voice and it was always a good idea to do as told when he used it.
Nate barely had time to register his knees hitting the floor when a gunshot erupted disturbingly close to where they were sitting.
A woman screamed, there was a cry of pain, shattering glass, more shots and Eliot was pulling on his shoulder getting his attention and directing him and the others with hand motions Nate guessed came from the army as second nature. Nate didn't know what it meant, but it was pretty clear what Eliot wanted them to do.
Their table had been along a back wall, only a table away from the door to the kitchen and a good escape route.
Except from the sound of it the shooter(s?) were at that table in between them and the door. Nate was pretty sure what Eliot wanted them to do was stay down and move away from the men with guns who were shooting at each other.
As the all kept down, slowly moving away from the men with guns Nate risked looking up in time to see one of the cops taken down and the other retreat around the corner of the door.
Not good. But at least maybe the gunmen would run out the back and be done with it.
Then, in the space of only a handful of seconds, life reminded Nate of it's love for irony.
Siren's outside started blaring deafeningly loud, someone turned on the restaurant's over head lights, a third gunman burst out of the door to the kitchen with the trapped look that could only mean the place was surrounded.
And after celebrating a job sucseful despite Eliot's newfound vulnerability the gunman closest to them bent down and grabbed Eliot, who of course had put himself between the team and the gunmen, by the shoulder and put a gun to his temple.
Nate watched in horror as he dragged Eliot to his feet, waiting for Eliot to strike out. This was in the range of efficacy.
But Eliot didn't move. He couldn't.
Without his glasses Eliot had been forced to close his eyes against the light now flooding the resuraunt. With the sirens roaring outside Nate could barely hear himself think, they had to be drowning out any sound cues Eliot could of heard and Eliot had to know there were more than one gunmen.
Eliot didn't know if he was the only one they'd grabbed, if there were more than one guns trained on him, or where the other gunmen were.
Nate, no, they all had spent every job since Eliot's blinding worried about Eliot's safety.
And it was off the job when Eliot was truly made his most vulnerable.