Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: LA. I just like this story.
Prompt #27: Hospital - It hadn't been gentle; several nasty bruises, a broken arm, and a concussion meant Eric had to stay for a few days. But the result was worth it; that bastard had cleared out of town, never to touch her again.
This is Part 3 of the three-parter consisting of #10 "Conflict" and #25 "Fist". Enjoy!
Words: 1,743
Nell followed Hetty into Pacific Beach Medical, anxiously wringing her hands. Her nerves were stretched taut, making her hyperaware of everything - the smell of antiseptic, the click-click of wheelchairs and pens, the drone of automatic doors parting to allow them access to the ER. Kensi met them there, standing in the waiting room. She looked a little ruffled, but otherwise all right.
"He's being moved to a recovery room now. Doctor says he's gonna be okay."
"What happened to him?" Nell asked, afraid for her partner's health.
The taller woman looked at her with a carefully blank expression. Which meant she was phrasing her answer. Which meant she was either going to lie to or level with Nell.
But her answer was delayed with the appearance of Deeks. Like Kensi, he looked as if he'd been dragged through a small fight, but nothing serious. "Doc's checking him in now." He nodded to Nell and spoke next to Hetty. "We moved in before it got too serious."
"Thank you, Mister Deeks, Miss Blye," Hetty said. "I'm sure Mister Beale appreciated the gesture."
Nell looked at the three of them. "What are you talking about?" she snapped, finally losing her patience. "Tell me what's happened to Eric!"
The partners shared a look. ""He should be the one to tell you," Deeks said. Holding the door open for the women to pass through, he led them to the recovery room. Callen and Sam were standing outside, arms crossed and waiting. Another silent communique, and Deeks nudged Nell towards the door. "Go on."
Not sure about what she'd find, Nell entered the bright hospital room. First thing she saw was the splint on Eric's hand and wrist. The sight of plaster made her worry even more, as did the dark bruises she could see on his face and arms.
"What happened to you?" she asked, coming to his bedside. Her partner looked away, avoiding her eyes and her question. The evasiveness just made Nell worry more. "Eric, please tell me. I - I don't understand how you got here."
"It's..." He seemed to wrestle with his words before saying, "Complicated."
Nell glared at him. "You better tell me everything, or I swear to God, I'll hack into your Facebook and mess with everything."
Instead of the geeky outrage she had expected, Eric gave her a cold stare that threw Nell for a loop. He'd never given her a look like that.
The doctor entered the room and checked on Eric's sheet. "Well Mister Beale, you're healing up nicely," he said, oblivious to the tension between the partners. "The wrist is only fractured, but if you keep it in the splint you'll be able to use it in a few weeks. Your knuckles are only swollen, so they'll be all right after a few days. Keep ice on your bruises and you should be back to yourself after about two weeks." Checking the machines, the doctor headed out again.
Nell's eyes narrowed as she put the pieces together. "Those are fighting injuries," she said slowly. "Why were you fighting?"
He suddenly felt the need to polish his glasses. Mumbled words tumbled from his mouth, but they were too low and too fast for Nell to understand. "What? Slow down and talk louder."
Her partner coughed, eyes still trained on the glasses he was polishing on his blanket. "I set him straight."
It took less than a minute for her to connect the dots. Unconsciously her hand reached up to touch her black eye, now healing up to a green and yellow bruise. "You fought Christopher?" she whispered in horror.
"Not by myself," he said defensively, then added, "...by the end of it. Callen and Sam and Kensi and Deeks came with me, in a strictly assist-when-needed capacity."
Nell cast a dispairing look over his injuries. "Are you mental?" Her words came out sharper than intended, but she didn't care. Fear for his physical safety mixed with anger at his impulsiveness, producing a furiously emotional cocktail that made the analyst as fired up as her hair color. "What on earth were you thinking? Chris is twice your size, outweights you by forty pounds of muscle, and used to box in college. Facts that you ought to have known before you went in there, riding on that misguided train of thought that said you had to defend me. For God's sake, what happened to me was an accident, Eric!"
His fists tightened on top of his covers. "Partners look after each other," he said through clenched teeth, stubborn as a bull.
Temper still flaring, Nell spun around and stomped out, right past Hetty and the rest of the awestruck team.
"Assholian bastard!"
Callen frowned when he entered the break room and heard Nell's indignant shout. "Assholian bastard?" he repeated. "I don't think the vending machine deserved that insult, Nell. It didn't do anything wrong."
"You know who I meant!" she retorted, slamming her palm against the snack dispenser again.
"But assholian? Really?"
Nell glared at the vending machine. "I found it on Urban Dictionary, and it's appropriate. Stop distracting me!" she snapped at Callen, turning her blazing green eyes on him. "You didn't stop Eric from being a moron, so that means you're partially responsible too!"
Callen held up his hands. "Never said I wasn't. Look, Nell, what that guy did to you...it made Eric mad. Really mad. He was just looking after you."
"I can look after myself," she retorted.
"Nell, you walked into Ops with a black eye after hiding out in your apartment for a whole weekend." The undercover NCIS agent was gentle, but firm. "Trust me when I say Eric's course of action was completely justified."
At the mention of her injury, her hand reached up to touch the still-tender area. It had healed in the last few days, but the memory was enough to bring a fresh gasp of pain at times. "It wasn't his place," she mumbled.
Silence, but Nell could feel Callen's expression change from gentle to glaring. "Wasn't his place?" he repeated without inflection. "Wasn't his place?"
"Whose place?" asked Kensi, walking into the room with Deeks and Sam. "What's going on?" But Callen turned on his heel and walked away, his face still stormy. Kensi looked at Nell, who was shifting uncomfortably. "What is it, Nell?"
"Why did he do that?" the analyst said, more to herself than anyone else. "Why did he..."
Sam put a hand on her shoulder. "Nell, you're his partner," he said simply. "Even though you two don't get much field time, you're still partners. Someone hurt you, and Eric felt he had to make it right." Dropping his hand, he said to Kensi, "I'm going to calm Callen down. Coming?"
She left with him. Nell threw a glare at Deeks. "What? You're going to scold me too?"
The LAPD detective held up his hands to calm her. "No. But I will tell you something, Nell. I've seen and heard all the excuses for domestic violence. 'It was an accident' is a favorite, right up there with someone 'falling down the steps' and 'running into the door.' And even though they say 'it won't happen again' it always does."
And he left her in the break room with food for thought.
"Can I come in?"
Eric blinked the sleep out of his eyes to see Nell standing in the doorway. She was holding a gift-store teddy bear - he cracked a smile despite hurting everywhere - wearing rectangular glasses. "Sure, why not," he said. He watched her walk up and put the bear on his bed, then take a chair. "What's up?"
"I'm sorry for earlier." She swallowed, then met his eyes. Anxiety and concern clashed within her eyes. "What happened?"
The blonde hacker took a breath, never breaking eye contact with her. "We left right after making sure you were okay and Hetty had you. I decided to stop by your place and get that blanket you like to curl up in - you know, so you had something to hold. I figured I could confront him after I got you squared away. The others waited in the car and I went up by myself." He waited a beat, recalling how he'd dug out the spare key she'd given him and went inside. "I don't know how he got past those four. Either he was already in the building or he pulled around back and they never saw him...Anyway, I turn around and there's Christopher, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him." Deciding to skip over the gory details, he said, "We went at it for a couple minutes, then I heard Callen and Sam yelling, and Christopher was pulled off of me."
Nell didn't speak for a bit after that. Eric squirmed under her patient green gaze. "I had to do something," he blurted out. "I couldn't just sit around playing World of Warcraft knowing that he'd hurt you."
"What happened to Chris?"
Now a dry grin appeared on his bruised face. "We...talked a little. He decided to pack up and leave LA and never go near you again."
"You talked?" Her smile matched his for dryness.
"My support team may have been looming over him like alley cats over a mouse," Eric remarked. "But I like to think that I convinced him all by myself."
Which, to her, meant he'd laid down the law. Relaxing for the first time in three days, Nell reached over and covered his unsplinted hand with hers. "My hero," she murmured. "Get some sleep, okay?"
He nodded, eyelids already drooping closed. "Stay?"
"Sure."
After all, partners look after each other.
"Don't do anything so assholian ever again."
"Okay, Nell. For you."
This was...okay, kinda cute, yes?
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