Ch. 8 Drunk Dial

Out of habit that evening, Eliot checked Savannah's room to see if she was there and was surprised to find she was. She had a stack of notes across her lap. They were probably her own notes on how to figure out the case. While her security was high-tech, she preferred pen and paper when it came to figuring things out. Then she burned them after. Whatever the notes were, she put them in her dresser when she walked in. It didn't matter. He had bigger concerns.

"Hey." She seemed content to see him.

"Hey." He slipped in and shut the door. "You doin' better?"

"Yeah. Dani and I talked, kind of, and I hung out with a group from Van House. It's nice to see a lot of them again, safe."

"I'm sure it is." Eliot stayed close to the door, still feeling uncomfortably tense with her. "I'm glad you have...people to talk to."

"Yeah." She stopped looking at him.

"Why didn't you tell me about Dani? That you were friends? That you were together?"

Savannah looked grossly offended and glared at him, jaw hanging. Her eyes narrowed and she spat, "Why didn't you tell me about Aimee?"

Eliot felt the question like a verbal sucker-punch. "Wha-Who told you about Aimee?!"

Savannah crossed her arms in contempt. "Sophie. She also told me you were a giant indiscriminate, shallow playboy and that I should avoid a romantic relationship with you because it probably wouldn't last."

Eliot couldn't hold back. It was like Aimee's name had lit a fuse. He roared, "You know I'm not like that. Not anymore. I haven't been with another woman since I met you! How can you..." He sputtered in frustration.

Savannah pressed her palms to her temples, and shook her head like she was trying to shake away Eliot's anger. "I'm staying at Van House for a couple of days," she snapped, her voice pitched high with emotion. She grabbed her duffel bag and pushed past Eliot through.

"Good. Fine. Have fun. Have a great time," he spat, waving her off.

The front door slammed as Eliot trudged downstairs to get much-needed beer. "So talking didn't go well?" Hardison quipped from his desk.

"Not now, Hardison," Eliot grumbled, taking a six pack out of the fridge and nearly slamming it on the counter. Hardison opened his mouth and started to say something, but Eliot cut him off. "I said not now."

Hardison put his hands up and started to leave. "Alright, fine. I'll work upstairs."

"Get some sleep," Eliot said flatly.

Two...or three...six packs later at some unforgivable hour, Eliot rotated a phone in his hand. With resolution, he dialed and put the phone up to his ear.

The was a grunt on the other end followed by, "Eliot?"

"Your wife ruins everything."

"What?"

"She told Savannah about Aimee."

"Eliot, are you drunk?"

"I wasn't ready for her to know about Aimee."

"It's interesting to be on the other side of one of these calls." Nate sighed. "Alright, tell me what happened. "

"Sophie told Savannah about Aimee."

"I got that. What else? I don't think Aimee warrants this much alcohol after all this time. That was weird to say."

"Funny." Eliot chuckled weakly and then groaned. "Savannah kissed Parker."

"Right. I heard about that. Sorry, I don't know what time it is, but it take awhile to remember...everything when the sun's not up yet. Look, I get that, and you should remember-"

"That's not all. Our new client is Savannah's ex-girlfriend."

"Oh. Ouch."

"And Savannah and I can't seem to talk about any of it. It always ends in someone walking away angry and it feels like it keeps getting worse."

"Any chance there's a way you can sober up so you'll actually comprehend the advice part of the conversation?"

"I'm not a blackout drunk, Nate." He exhaled sadly. "Just tell me what to do."

"Eliot, this is really Sophie's territory."

"I'm mad at Sophie."

"Right. Right." There was a garbled groan as Nate was presumably rubbing his face in thought. "Look, Eliot, I know there's this thing between you and Savannah. You have to realize, a lot of people, more commonly women, experiment with their sexuality. Sexuality is sometimes seen as fluid. I mean, think about it. Things work out between you and Savannah, you know it's solid, real. Things like this can sometimes strengthen a relationship. Sometimes people need to do this to help figure out the emotions they have. It's like when you sleep around because you have trust issues and-"

"Hey! I haven't-"

"I know, but you get what I'm saying."

"Maybe."

"You and Savannah are arguing, right? She didn't just blow you off?"

"Yeah, we're trying to talk, but it just isn't happening."

"She's not blowing you off, so she's guilty. She had no intention to hurt you, just like Parker didn't mean to hurt Hardison." Eliot couldn't respond. It made sense. "You just need to give it time. And when you finally do get to talk, you can't make it confrontational. She's already feeling guilty; you can't make her feel attacked."

"Hm."

"You disagree?"

"No. No, I don't. It's just a lot to deal with, you know?"

"I know."

"I guess I'll let you get back to bed."

"Alright. If you can, call me in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah."