Notes: Actually the next story in this series was Knights and Kings but I already have that posted up. Look it up if you're interested.
Notes: This uses "Angel" By Sarah Mchardtospellname. It's pretty.
In the Arms Of
In the arms of the angel, fly away from here. From this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear...
Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
For the break that would make it okay
There's always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction, oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty, oh and weightless and Maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
Close the door. Put down your stuff. Find a chair. Breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe.
Just breathe.
Don't think. Just breathe. Take a breath, go through the motions a little longer.
Don't think about the kids killed by the company we're taking down. Don't think about the parents describing their son's last moments alive as cancer killed him. Don't think about Sam. Don't think about Sam. Just breathe.
Nate looked owlishly around the empty hotel room blinking, breathing, trying not to think. It wasn't working. He'd been doing marginally better. Between revenge and Eliot and finally telling Maggie things were getting close to being almost okay. He wasn't just surviving he was actually living, sometimes for stretches that lasted hours at a time.
But then he ended up back here. On a job. In an empty hotel room because as much as Eliot hated doing this to him Eliot had long ago explained to Nate that he couldn't risk any kind of distraction on a job, the thing between them included.
And every day longer it took them to take this company down there could be another kid getting exposed, getting cancer.
Another family destroyed because his plan took seven days instead of six.
Maybe if he spent some time he could shave off an extra day.
He went back to work but minutes ticked away into hours and his planning turned into remembering Sam and then it turned into him raiding the mini bar for whatever liquor they had there.
Don't think, just breathe. He couldn't tell if it was Eliot's voice telling him or his voice telling Eliot anymore. It seemed so much of their interactions had some kind of pain involved with "just breathe" being the best advice. For just a brief moment he put down the bottle and closed his eyes. He'd just breathe. He'd breathe and try to think of Eliot instead of Sam.
Just breathe.
He'd said that to Sam.
Another drink toward oblivion. He just needed a little bit more and maybe he could breathe out everything and sail away empty, find a little peace and just.
He raised the bottle to his lips to take another drink when a calloused and scared hand wrapped around his to stop him.
Nate turned unsteadily, seeing Eliot there but not understanding right away. "Eliot." Was as articulate as he managed to get.
"Nate." Eliot replied, his voice even but eyes concerned. Somewhat gently he tugged the bottle from Nate's hand and put it out of reach. "Come'on" Eliot muttered, pulling Nate to his feet. "Time for bed. Need ya on your game tomorrow."
"Why're ya here?" Nate finally managed to slur out, wincing at how confrontational it sounded.
"Turns out you're more of a distraction when I don't have you in sight." Eliot said all but carrying Nate toward the bedroom. "It's easier ta just make sure your okay myself." Nate didn't even know how to answer that. "You're a pain in the ass Ford." Nate would of believed it bothered Eliot more if he hadn't been smiling when he said it.
"''pologies." Was all he could say. He was still praying this all wasn't some hallucination. "This mean your gonna stay?" He couldn't figure out how to say what he meant, was he going to stop distancing himself on jobs, but he hopped Eliot understood.
"I guess we'll just have ta see. If I don't get myself killed tomorrow maybe." He sat Nate down on the bed and helped him out of his shirt before pulling the covers down and getting him under them.
Nate closed his eyes as Eliot's weight disappeared from the side of the bed, leaving him along. His drunk mind unable to hold back bleak thoughts as another long lonely night settled in. A second later the weight returned, Eliot slipping under the covers. As a bare chest and arms wrapped around his torso Nate registered that Eliot must have been changing out of his work clothes into the sweats he wore to bed.
It felt a little weird for a few moments, he normally slept holding Eliot not the other way around, but it wasn't bad. Eliot holding him tight was a little like a grounding force, keeping everything at bay. Here he could just breathe and not think about anything beyond the steady breathing of the hitter protecting him from himself.
"Don't think" Eliot whispered in his ear. "Just breathe.
So tired of the straight lines and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and theives at your back
Storm keeps on twistin' keep on buildin' the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
Don't make no difference, escape one last time
It's easier just to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees.
Close the door. Put down your shit. Sit down. Breathe. Just breathe.
Just fucking breathe.
Don't think. Don't relax. Don't let go.
Just fucking breathe.
Eliot was breathing, but that wasn't the issue.
He was shaking all over, his entire body rigid and tense like he was about to explode into motion of some kind and he couldn't figure out what. He was so close to losing it and just letting go. But he couldn't. He was working with a team now and if he let go… he couldn't afford a slip up. The best he could hope for if he did was that the team would be afraid of him.
The worst case scenario didn't bare thinking about.
He had to stay calm, stay controlled, on the straight and narrow.
Even on nights like tonight when he was so close to lashing out all he could do was turn that violence inward. He knew it was all in his head but it felt like he was tearing himself apart.
He wanted to rip those fucking bastards to shreds so badly he'd barely been able to breathe. Nate had been right to tell him to get gone, but that was two hours ago and he still couldn't think straight.
Nate was gonna blame himself for this one. He'd say he should of known this would brush too close to home. A guy preying on teenagers desperate for money was bad as far as anyone was concerned. But this sick fuck was setting up arena fights, doping the kids up with steroid enough to make them half crazy and sicking them on each other and weak newbies for entertainment. Eliot had only seen half a fight but it had been enough to make him want to hurt somebody.
That had been before the kid they were trying to save, some boy named Thomas who was desperate to get enough money to help save his parent's ranch, had been killed in a fight, his brains splattered across the area wall by some kid too hyped up on steroids to know who the hell he even was. That look in his eyes as he staggered back from the body had been so like what Eliot used to feel like after a fight…
"Fuck!" Eliot cried out, clutching the fist he'd just put through a wall to his chest. He didn't even remember standing. He turned back, seeing a path of destruction wrecked across the hotel room. He was losing it.
"Just breathe" He told himself, his breath shaky as he tried to regather himself. But it was too late. He was just grasping at smoke.
He was alone now. He could just let go and then regather and maybe he'd be alright. In the morning he'd just pretend it never happened.
He didn't even feel the pain when his other fist made a matching hole in the wall.
Like a switch had been flicked he just let go. Anger, frustration, rage, tension, anxiety, and everything else flatlinned out and turned into motion that led to destruction. Another hole in the wall, another broken table top, a broken lamp, a smashed chair. His mind reached the hazy comfortable white noise where nothing mattered, nothing was real, he felt nothing and everything blurred away.
He found himself in the middle of the wreckage gasping for breath and still no closer to being okay. Chairs and lamps weren't a decent replacement for what he actually wanted to do and hurt. He didn't feel better like he thought he would. He just had hurting hands and that same rage and violence rolling through him like madness.
And he'd still lost control.
He let himself fall forward, resting on his hands and knees as gasps for breath turned into stifled sobs and a desperate attempt to pull the shattered bits back together before someone saw him like this.
Fingers, feather light to let him know they were there, touched his shoulder before arms were pulling him back into an embrace, holding him tight and together. "It's okay. Don't think. Just breathe." Nate whispered in his ear.
Eliot pulled away, fear spiking through him. He didn't want Nate to be around him right now. He was dangerous. He didn't want to hurt Nate. He couldn't live with the idea he'd hurt Nate.
"Breathe Eliot. I've got you."
"Don't want to hurt you."
"You won't." Nate assured, holding him tighter. "Just relax."
Eliot closed his eyes, his entire body hurt and he still felt like he was tearing himself apart but somehow it was becoming a little easier. Just a little bit by bit that violence was draining away and Nate was still there, still with him, still giving him something real to hold onto.
Eliot didn't know how much time had passed before Nate pulled him to his feet and took him into the mostly undamaged bedroom. He sat there in silence while Nate wrapped up his bruised and broken knuckles and helped him change out of his job clothes. Neither said a word as Nate settled Eliot into bed and climbed in next to him, holding the hitter close, and tight, and together.
For the first time since they took this job Eliot felt safe enough to just relax, close his eyes, and let go.
Nate would keep watch over him until morning.
In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold, hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of this silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here