(Thanks to everyone for the great reviews. I always worry if I'm going a bit too far especially when it comes to H/C and Whumpage, but if you all don't seem to mind then I most certainly don't. Also thanks to the reviews I decided to write the shower scene and not just skip to it being done and over with...so his chapter should be...well it'll be something. You all can let me know what when it's done. Reviews please!)

I took some shifting and grunting but Parker was finally able to help Eliot out of the wheelchair and into the shower stall. He'd never say so but after just moments on his feet he was thankful to be sitting again. His knee felt as unstable as jelly. He could feel that the joint was weakened, and that it wouldn't have held his weight for a minute. Frustrating yes, infuriating even but the truth was hardly ever easy to deal with. With his eyes closed he held out one hand and then the other for a liberal application of plastic wrap. He almost couldn't bare to watch, mentally distancing himself from the situation was his only means to cope. He just wasn't cut out for his, he was hardly a 'good' patient. No one liked being hurt, but Eliot took that disdain to a whole new level. Irrational yes, but he was very angry with himself. His body had betrayed him by breaking, by bleeding, by hurting to an extent that he couldn't push through. The voice in his head sounded like a drill instructor.

"Too weak Spencer? Your just a pansy ass, useless, waste. Does it hurt? Well poor damn baby...seriously your gonna let his girl help you shower? What the hell is wrong with you, son?"

"Parker, juts give me the god damned washcloth, aright? I can handle his. God's sakes...I'm no crippled."

He barked so loud he made his own damn head hurt, teeth gritted and his face actually throbbed as he snarled at the thief and reached out for the washcloth and the body wash she was holding. He looked up to her and the expression on her face was heart breaking. Parker looked like he had stabbed her bunny, huge blue eyes stared back at him and her pretty lips parted to say something but not a sound slipped past them. Eliot didn't just snap at her, his tone of voice was so angry it was almost frightening.

And she was just trying to help.

"I...I'm sorry..."

She shoved the toiletries in his direction and he awkwardly gathered them into his lap as she turned on her heel and rushed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Left alone Eliot sat there in silence for awhile.

"Way to go Sparky, that was a real asshole move."

And as if he didn't feel bad enough already, he didn't call her back. He couldn't force himself to do it, his stubborn pride, and his insurmountable ego couldn't stand the thought of it. He could feel horrible about it all later, hell he could even apologize and be sincere about it. But only after he finished showering, all by himself.

He leaned far forward and used the end of the splint to push on the ridge of the hot water knob until he had it turned on full blast. He nearly scalded himself before he got the cold turned on using the same ridiculously difficult method. His other arm was pressed into his lap to hold the body wash and towel from falling. He hadn't even gotten stared really and he was already realizing that this was going to be beyond difficult. But he was determined now and even though every motion he attempted made his hands scream in pain he would continue. He managed to hold the bottle of body wash upside down between both his palms and let the washcloth sit on his thigh. Now he just had to get it opened, and he did that by raking the tab on the flip top open across his leg. I left a nice scratch, but it worked and that was what mattered. He squeezed an oversized amount onto the cloth and tossed the bottle aside, literally, it clattered into a corner of the shower. He pushed the cloth around on his leg until it built up a lather and then began the absurdly troublesome task of actually washing himself. For starers, he couldn't bend over far enough to reach his calves and feet without loosing his breath entirely and seeing black spots. So he only go his right leg washed down to about knee and had settle for that. He tried to wash his stomach and chest but his hands were so clumsy, trapped in those plastic wrapped, splinting hard, boxing mitts he raked his broken ribs three times before he gave that up. He couldn't even really try to wash his face, with the gash and the heavy bruising he just didn't want to risk it. But he did manage to run the cloth over his hair a bit. Yes, he used the body wash in his hair, because he couldn't reach the shampoo and was already having enough fun as it were. His best attempts came up pathetically short in capability. With soap running down his face and only about half of himself even marginally clean he dropped the cloth and leaned forward to try and grab the hose on the shower sprayer. He batted at it with both hindered hands and got it swaying but he couldn't get a hold of the damn thing; his hands weren't useable enough and from where he was sitting it was too far above him...so he leaned forward a bit more...but that didn't work...a little further...still a no...if he could just push up a little on his good leg...just another few inches...

Out in the hall Parker heard the water running, and heard him cussing and swearing in a few foreign languages. She almost smiled, not that she wanted him to hurt more than he already did. That was really the last thing she wanted. But he had hurt her feelings and she was upset. She kept telling herself that it was just because it was Eliot. And Eliot wasn't good a laying on his ass, or asking for help, or needing someone. But part of her was positive that if she were a long legged, seductress, that dressed like a runway model, maybe spoke with some exotic accent, maybe looked like...what was her name? Gail...yeah that had been her name. Maybe if she looked and acted like Gail, then Eliot wouldn't hate relying on her so much. She knew that he cared about her, but she sometimes she still wondered if he really liked her. Was she too crazy still? Did she do too many bizarre things? Was she just imagining that he had stopped looking at her like she had sprouted another head as often as he used to? Or was he just hiding it better? They all loved the work they did. They got to use their skills and talents for actual good. Maybe that was really why Eliot was seemingly more tolerant of her.

She was mussing very deeply when she heard the chair scrape across he tile of the shower stall floor. It snapped her out of it but not before she heard the clatter of Eliot pitching too far forward, loosing his precarious balance and letting out a stifled yelp as he landed hard.

She ran into the bathroom, not that it was far to go. She was a his side in seconds. He was on his side, both hands clutched protectively against his stomach, and doubled over the screaming appendages. Instinctively he had tried to catch himself on the wall as he had pitched forward. His face was contorted in pain, and his teeth were clamped tight to keep the sounds of that pain from escaping his lips.

"Eliot! Oh my god!"

She wished Nate, or Sophie, or Hardison were here. But they had all made themselves scarce and gone down to the pub so that Eliot would have some breathing room. He hated having a hovering audience.

"I'm going to run and call Nate. It's going o be okay."

"No...no...don't."

"Eliot you need help, I need help...I'm not good a this."

"I'm not good a this...you were doing fine."

He hissed through his teeth as she helped him to shift onto his hip. She was on her knees a his side, and now had her hands on his shoulders.

"Just wait. Please, just wait. Give me a minute."

She nodded, even though he wasn't looking a her, his eyes were squeezed shut. He leaned against her as he slowly uncurled his limbs, and let the muscles loosen. She helped him to sit up, until his head was resting against her shoulder and his breaths came slower and more evenly. She held him against her, all wet, shaking and defeated. Her voice was a whisper close to his ear.

"Why? Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? Why can't you listen? Do you think you were just told you had to be careful because we wanted to piss you off? You have broken bones in your hands, and they aren't really set or anything yet. There was too much swelling for real casts, and the splints aren't made to really protect them while they heal. Your not supposed to be using them at all. Do you understand me? I know you think I'm just crazy, but I listened to your doctor, and I read everything they sent home with you...and you need to be careful damn it. I know this is hard for you, I can only imagine how hard. But you have to let them heal. If you don't...well for starters your not going to be able to hit a pillow without it hurting!"

While she spoke she found and gathered up the washcloth and began running it up and down his arms to his shoulders, across his chest mindful of all the bruising, and then down his stomach. He didn't move, he didn't fight, he had tried his damnedest and it obviously had not worked out well at all. This was his moment of defeat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that defeat could be a hell of a lot worse than being curled up against Parker as she washed his back for him.

"I'm sorry. I am really sorry Parker. I feel like a damn jackass."

"An egotistical damn jackass."

"Yeah, that too..."

She continued to work the cloth over his flesh, he allowed her hands to roam over his body, lifting an arm, or moving just enough to give her access to his skin. His head was hanging and he was exhausted and hurt all over. Parker was silent, for once entirely silent. She washed his neck and shoulders, amazed by the feel of all that hard muscle under his skin. He was all muscle, and she had always known that just hadn't come face to face, or flesh to flesh with it as it were. Not until now. And she let her fingers move over his skin, tracing every muscle, learning every scar and there were a lot of them. Seeing him like his made something in her heart ache, it wasn't fair and she hated it. Hated everyone and everything that had ever hurt him. But touching him, well even in his condition Eliot was...wow...if you could look past the damage and the hurt and just appreciate the man. There was a lot there to appreciate and she had never noticed it as keenly as she did at that moment. She leaned forward, moving slow so if he needed to shift around he could do so gradually. She washed his legs, moved carefully over that swollen knee and then down to his ankles and feet. She'd hold he washcloth up to the shower sprayer and rinse out all the soap before she used it to clean his cheeks and forehead, again avoiding the worst of the bruising.

"I think the hair will wait until tomorrow, huh? You've had about enough."

She moved away slowly, and maybe a bit reluctantly and grabbed the chair and set it back to rights. Now the hard part, getting Eliot back into the chair. She knelt down in front of him and slipped her arms under his, he placed his hands on her shoulders and used his good leg to lift, while she pulled him up and shifted him over to the chair. Chest to chest, her face against his cheek, bodies wet and barely clothed...God if he wasn't a battered mess this might have been an entirely different situation. Even so when she turned her face toward him, and backed off only a fraction, and her lips touched the very corner of his mouth. She found herself swallowing hard before she was able to form words. Eliot was hard pressed for his verbal response; he was too busy taking in the sensory delights of having Parker where he had her.

She smelled like jasmine; soft, sweet and just a little musky.

He smelled like woods; warmth and heat and just a little heady.

During that momentary pause they both realized that the next few weeks together might be more challenging than either of them could have imagined. Then Parker slowly drew away.

"I uhm...I'll leave you to finish up now. You just cover up with a towel when your done and I'll come in and help you get dried off and dressed."

Eliot wanted to say something witty to cover for how much it had shaken him to have her so close. But he couldn't think of a thing to say, so he just went with.

"Okay."

She left him then and he managed to push down his boxers and kick them aside, he finished washing up. There was a clean towel where she had left it and he got it settled over his hips, it covered almost to his knees. So while he was sill technically buck naked, he had covered the majority of the intimate details of his anatomy. The towel draped over the seat of the chair so she couldn't see a thing. And that was good because she had seen and felt enough already. He called out for her when he was ready and she returned. She'd toweled off and was mostly dry but still in her swimsuit top and shorts. Parker shut off the water and moved in with a big fluffy towel and dried his shoulders and back, his chest and stomach, even rubbed his hair softly to make it stop dripping and then brought him a bathrobe and draped it over his shoulders before pulling it over the front of him and belting it into place.

"There you go..."

She pursed her lips and stepped back nodding.

Eliot remembered how to form words and speak them.

"My modesty is preserved."

"I think we did alright, bumpy start but we managed. Can we skip the drama next time."

"Yes, please lets."

She helped him out of the shower then and he limped heavily on their way to the sinks. It would be easier to help him get dressed if he was semi standing she figured. He could kind of park his butt there as she knelt down before him and tugged a pair of navy boxer briefs over his feet one a a time and then up his legs until things got too close for comfort and then he should be able to manage to tug them over his hips using the digits the doctor had left available to him. Easy, no but possible. Hell he'd almost managed to shower alone, he could handle this...truth was he was gonna have to. Cause no amount of promising not to peek was going to make her getting that close to his junk any more comfortable for either of them.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. He managed...and she helped with the rest. A pair of heather gray track pants and a black beater, were deemed comfortable enough to return to the couch in. She fastened the knee brace back on over the pants this time and cinched up the velcro straps tight to hold his knee straight and immobile. Then helped him him lower himself back into the seat of he wheelchair. Lastly, the plastic wrap was taken away and she would unwrap the bandages on his hands, make sure the splinting was in place and dry and then use two new ace wraps from her bag of supplies and get his hands all strapped and wrapped up again.

He looked better and worse all at once. He smelled a lot better at least so she could feel accomplished in that. He was about ready to keel over so she escorted him back to the couch so he could get some sleep.

While he had been having a fit and trying to get himself cleaned up she hadn't just been hovering at the door. Parker had been busy. Fresh sheets covered the couch, and the pillows were all fluffed up and arranged for him to snuggle into. She helped him get back to bed, shifting cushions into just the right places under his aching knee and behind his back so that when he laid back it felt like he was resting on clouds. But the best was yet to come. She pulled the sheet and blankets over him, only the blanket was not the same one he had left. This one was soft, furry soft, extravagantly lush and enveloping. He laid his hands on his stomach and she saw the way he stroked it with his fingers and smiled.

"It's bunny fur...well not real bunny fur cause that would be horrible."

In her mind it really would be, rabbits were very much cuter alive and hopping than dead and skinned. No one should skin a sweet, defenseless, twitchy nosed bunny. That was like pulling the lights out of fire flies.

"It's soft...where did...you go it for me?"

He sunk back into the pillows and sighed, okay so there was something about a blanket when you were sick or hurt that made you feel better, it made you feel cared for, and taken care of...loved...maybe...

"Yeah Sparky...your own bunny fur blanket. I figure your gonna be laying around a lot might as well have something to curl up with."

"You shouldn't have...but thanks."

He smiled and closed his eyes. He was beaten and bushed and completely worn out.

"You like it then?"

"No..."

He whispered as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love it."

Parker left him to change into something dry and comfortable. While she was dressing she thought about what she had learned about Eliot Spencer that night.