"What the hell happened in there?" Dr. Emory snaps, pinning Hardison and Parker with a harsh glare. "I saw you sneaking in but he was doing better at first so I thought I'd leave you to it!" She drops into her chair, glancing belatedly at the security team. "Thanks, guys, you can go."

"We're just a call away if you need us," the oldest says, and closes the door behind him with a little more force than strictly necessary.

"What happened, doc?" Hardison scrubs his hands over his face, suddenly exhausted. "I've seen him do shit that would cripple anyone else."

"Anxiety attack," Dr. Emory explains, rolling a pen between her fingers. "Was there any kind of argument between you? Anything happen that might have triggered it?"

Parker glances at Hardison, brow wrinkled in confusion. "I had words with the nurse," she admits, and shakes her head. "But it wasn't that big of a thing. He says worse to us over the breakfast table!"

"Sit down, guys," the dark haired doctor says with a sigh. "How much do you know about concussions?"

They know the major symptoms, thanks to Eliot, and when to call for professional help. "Enough to do our jobs," Hardison says, knowing he's skating on dangerously thin ice if she gets curious about what they do, exactly. There's a thin line between legal and right. The things they do are right, but they're not always legal and the last thing he wants is to be trying to explain the difference to a cop or two.

"They don't just cause physical symptoms like blurred vision or a headache, they mess with the patient's emotional state too. They might experience mood swings, or sudden bursts of emotion." She flicks her gaze between their faces, hoping they understand what she's saying to them. "Your friend is emotionally fragile right now," she adds. "Small things that might not have bothered him before his injury might have a stronger effect now. It'll go, as his brain heals, but it's going to take time. We've also got him on a lot of drugs that probably aren't helping."

Fragile is the last word either of them would use to describe Eliot; he's tough and brave and weirdly kind at times. They've seen him on his feet when other men would be down for the count, see him take blows that visibly hurt and keep fighting. No, fragile isn't the word at all but that's normal Eliot, not injured and concussed and drugged Eliot. The Eliot they're dealing with now needs something from them, a rare occurrence and Parker feels like she let him down. It makes something pinch in her chest, a bad feeling, and her eyes sting.

"That's what happened to him tonight, isn't it?" Parker asks bitterly "I had a dumb argument with the nurse and it gave him a panic attack!"

A knock on the door stops the doctor from answering. Jess pokes her head in. "Eliot wants to see his friends," she says, resting her shoulder on the door frame.

Parker hunches in her seat, making herself small, and Hardison reaches over, taking her hand, chafing it between his own. Her fingers are freezing and he strips out of his hoodie, handing it over. "Put it on, mama."

She pulls it over her head, relishing the warmth, the scent of him surrounding her, and tugs the sleeves down over her hands. "Please, can we see him?" She's not sure if he really wants to see her, after what she caused, and anxiety spikes through her at the thought of him sending her away again. He'd promised not to, but that was before and she wouldn't blame him if he'd changed his mind. Her fingers tighten around Hardison's again.

Dr. Emory watches them, seeing the tense line of worry, of fear, on their faces. She's seen the same look on a hundred, a thousand other faces and while they may not be blood relatives, she can't deny they're a family. "Sure," she says and stands. "Just keep it light, guys."

They follow Jess back to Eliot's room. "Give me a sec," Jess says, and slips into the room, intending to check on her patient.

Parker skids to a halt outside of the door, forcing Hardison to stop too. "What if he's angry with me?" Her eyes are burning and there's a thick feeling in her throat that only ever happens before she cries.

"He asked to see us," Hardison says, patiently, pulling her in for a hug. "He's not going to do that just to send us away," he finished, and feels his heart thump. He's got Eliot pretty well figured out, but there are still hidden depths that surprise him at times. Still, he's never seen the man be intentionally cruel, and getting their hopes up just to send them away would be more than that. "Come on," he says and takes a deep breath, pushing the door open quietly.

Jess is in the corner, grabbing supplies, and Hardison gives her a short nod, before forcing his eyes towards the bed. Despite his words, he's honestly not sure what kind of reception they're going to get.

Eliot's dozing, eyes closed, injured hand resting lightly on his chest. The stark lights make the bruises all too visible, and Hardison bites his lip at the sight. Some are shading into yellow and green, but the worst, over his cheekbone and temple and still dark and deep. He wants to cross to the bed, but he's stuck, feeling the horror of watching the strongest man he knows collapse in front of him. He hadn't been able to admit it, tells himself that he hadn't had time to process it, but there was a part of him convinced they were going to lose the older man for good, on the side of some gravel road and the terror washes over him again.

One of them makes a noise, and Eliot blinks, eyes opening slowly, relief and happiness shading into his gaze. "Hey," he rasps, and it breaks the weird tension in the room.

Parker drops into the seat next to the bed, arms wrapped around herself. "Please don't send us away," she says, and lifts her burning eyes to meet Eliot's. "I'm sorry. Please let us stay," she finishes, and there's an echo of a much younger Parker in her voice, in her words, an echo of the one let down, sent away, by too many people.

It triggers every protective instinct Eliot has, overrides the pain, and he reaches for her, rough hand cupping her cheek gently. "Don't be sorry, darlin'," he says. "I'll never send you away. Never." There's a rasp in his voice, but his words are sure and she leans into his hand, her fingers coming up to grip his wrist.

"But I… you-" she forces herself to stop, to take a breath, frustrated because she can't get the words out. "I'm sorry," she says again, and finds the courage to meet his eyes, seeing honest confusion there.

"What for?" Eliot asks softly, glancing at Hardison to see if the other man can help.

"Dr. Emory said the argument with the nurse might have caused your anxiety attack, earlier," Hardison gets out quickly, because even after the chat with the doctor, linking anxiety attacks and Eliot makes his brain do something weird.

Eliot looks away, finding some spot outside of the darkened window to fix his gaze on, and his voice is remote when he speaks. "That- it wasn't. It had nothing to do with you guys," he manages, after a few false starts. "So don't worry about it. I'm not," he finishes, and blinks, fighting back a yawn.

"What happened?" Parker asks softly, the big medical file they'd accidently seen filling her mind. She's earned the right to ask, but that doesn't mean he has to answer, at least not now.

"I can't-" he starts, and shifts a little, wishing he didn't feel so damn raw. "Ask me again, when I'm out of here," he says. It's not a story he wants to get into while in a hospital bed. If he's going to tell it, he wants to be under the hot sun, with a bottle in his hand.

"Okay," Parker says, and holds out her other hand for Hardison. He crosses the small space, letting her pull him towards the bed, resting one careful hand on Eliot's knee. The other man is blinking heavily, clearly exhausted.

Jess crosses to the lights, dimming them, and Hardison turns towards her, wondering if it's a signal for them to leave, but she has a couple of pillows blankets in her arms. "Stay as long as you want," she says and steps out, closing the door behind her.

Hardison looks back at the bed, where Eliot has finally given into the sleep he so desperately needs, and thinks if it was up to me, I'd never leave.