A/N: I know I know, it's been waaaay too long. lol. Sorry! Someone reminded me how longs it's been since I updated ::ahem::login::ahem, haha, so I got my little writin' booty busy! Well, in actuality my butt had nothing to do with it, other than a comfortable place for me to sit while I write... but sometimes I write on my stomach...and soemtimes back and forth...where was I? Oh yeah! Thanks for all the amazing reviews, you guys are what keep me coming back for more and, anyone who was wondering when E/P would come into this fic...keep reading. lol. Enjoy! –pj
Disclaimer: If they were mine, every con would require Hardison (did you SEE that man's guns in Bottle Job?) and Eliot (*thud*) going shirtless.
"You're sure you disarmed all the security protocols?" Parker asked, glancing up from where she knelt in front of the heavy front door that, although it looked like wood, upon closer inspection they'd found it to be metal. Probably titanium.
"Yes, look, Parker. This is what I do, okay?" Hardison said, exasperated.
Parker shrugged, "Okay fine." She stood up as the lock clicked out of place and took a step back, "After you."
Hardison blinked at her and Parker shook her head, "look, you didn't see the booby traps he has set up all over this property, okay? I need both hands and my tongue in working order to do my job," she motioned toward the entrance. "After. You."
Hardison hesitated a moment longer before bristling under the team's expectant gazes. With a deep breath, he slowly stepped inside.
"See? What did I tell-" He cut himself off with a startled squeak when a strong arm locked in a vice grip across his neck and jerked him backward and the rest barreled in after him.
Inside the room was bathed in darkness, except the light pouring in from the open door, but Nate had no problem finding the source of the noise, or Hardison's distress.
"Eliot, Eliot it's us. It's Nate." He raised his hands to be as non-threatening as possible,
"Let him go."
Hardison had both hands up clawing at the pressure on his neck, spots already dancing in front of his eyes as he gasped for air.
"Nate?" A raspy voice, undeniably Eliot's, came from just behind his right ear, and the pressure on his neck released.
"Dammit Hardison!"
Eliot pushed the hacker away and took a few steps backward, his hands on his hips as he doubled over slightly, breathing through a bout of intense dizziness that always rewarded sudden, strenuous movement.
Hardison coughed dramatically and caught himself on the wall, one hand massaging his neck.
Noticing Parker's grin, he scowled, "what's so funny?"
"You forgot to disarm one of the security measures," Parker answered, shifting toward the shadows away from the door. "Eliot."
"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Eliot rasped, straightening and raking his hands through his hair and leaving one there, surreptitiously massaging his temple.
Parker and Hardison were both taken aback by his harsh tone, but Sophie stepped forward.
"I don't know if you remember Eliot, but…you collapsed."
Eliot squinted across the room at them and found himself feeling underdressed in only his sweatpants and bare feet.
"Yeah and?"
Sophie's eyebrows were nearly touching her hairline, "well…for most people that's a cause for concern."
"Well I ain't most people Sophie. I already told ya'll I was fine," he growled. But even as he did, he lifted both hands to his head, pressing slightly on the sides and clenched his jaw.
"You really don't look that great." Parker told him matter-of-factly, tilting her head slightly when he started taking slow, deep breaths.
Nate frowned, noticing the hitter's demeanor changing and took a half-step forward while, Hardison, eyes still locked on their ill teammate, stayed back at what he considered a safe distance.
Eliot closed his eyes, why did they all have to talk so damn loud? He pressed his hands to his temples, knowing it was going to telegraph his pain immediately but unable to bring himself to care.
He'd been doing alright before the team showed up. As long as he didn't move or open his eyes or breathe too deeply, he was fine. And then his 'last chance' alarm had been triggered by someone walking through the door and Eliot's adrenalin and self preservation reflex was engaged and he was launching himself out of bed toward the threat.
But now his nervous system seemed to have caught up with the fact that there was no real danger and shut off those survival instincts that had kept him going for so many years. And in their absence his migraine, amplified by movement, light and sound, returned to full force and then some.
Eliot swallowed hard and turned suddenly, hunching over what was apparently the kitchen sink, retching violently.
Nate sighed.
"Oh yeah. He's just dandy."
oooOOOooo
Eliot finished rinsing his mouth and turned around, not at all surprised to see the entire team staring at him from across the small dark space that made up his living, dining and kitchen areas at this safe house.
"Like you said," Parker quipped, "fine."
Eliot ignored her, sipping slowly on a glass of water, "somebody wanna get that door?"
Hardison kicked the door shut, never leaving his space on the wall or even letting his eyes move off Eliot.
"Hey, don't kick my door."
"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" Sophie demanded again, crossing her arms in a huff. Before she was concerned. Now she was getting annoyed.
Eliot tilted his head at her. Was that tone supposed to intimidate him?
Still. Standing was not really his best option right now, and the only way he was going to get anymore rest at this point, was to give the team what they came for.
Answers.
"Look," he sighed, placing his glass in the sink, "I just get these headaches sometimes. That's all. I'm not dying or anything."
"What kind of headaches?" Hardison asked.
"Bad ones."
Nate glanced around, taking in the blacked out, bulletproof windows, track lighting along the floors and wide open spaces between minimal furniture that allowed for easy movement with limited mobility and lots of things to grab onto should one say, start to suffer from a dizzy spell and find the ground approaching at unsettling speeds.
"Like migraines?" Nate guessed, in that tone that said it wasn't really a guess.
Eliot blew out a breath, turning his head and muttering, "such a sissy word."
Sophie threw her hands in the air, "a migraine Eliot? What's the big deal? Why didn't you say something? God, you had us thinking it was something serious!"
"Hey! It is serious. To me," Eliot found himself raising his voice, despite the way it made his head throb sharper than a knife's edge, momentarily fueled forward by his anger.
"When I get one of these damn things I can barely walk straight. Every sound feels like nails on a chalkboard in my head, I can't open my damn eyes in any kind of light. How am I supposed to do my job like that, huh? How am I supposed to watch my own back, let alone anyone else's?"
He took a step forward, surprising everyone with his harsh tone again, "At least with a broken bone or a bruise I can take some pain meds and deal but nothing' touches this." He took another step forward, thrusting a hand into Sophie's face, "I left because I needed a few days off. But you guys couldn't even give me that."
He blinked a few times and took a deep breath, squinting in pain.
"Look. I'm going back to bed. I don't want to be bothered."
"What do you want us to do?" Parker asked, her eyes having adjusted to the dark and tracking his muscular form as it moved across the room toward the opening of a hallway.
"Stay. Go. Don't really care. Just keep it down and don't touch anything."
oooOOOooo
"So is a Migraine like any other headache?" Parker asked, plopping down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn.
"Where'd you get that?" Sophie asked, pointing at the bowl.
"Cupboard, you want some?"
"Didn't Eliot say not to touch anything?" Sophie was not usually such a stickler for the rules, but after Eliot's outburst she'd been left feeling more like he was disappointed than angry at them and it was a very uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling.
Parker shrugged, "I was hungry."
"No, Parker, migraines are not like just any headaches." Nate answered her previous question, settling on the couch beside Hardison with a hip flask of something no one asked about.
"Nate's right. Migraines are described as 'intense unilateral, pulsating pain," Hardison read off his laptop, "symptoms include sensitivity to light and sound, dizziness, nausea and vomiting and can last anywhere from 4 to 72 hours'." He let out a low whistle, "damn."
Sophie hissed in sympathy, sitting facing Hardison and his laptop on the coffee table.
"Check it out; it says one of the causes of chronic migraines can be repeated blows to the head," Hardison looked up at the team, "sound like anybody you know?"
Nate leaned his elbows on his knees and Sophie bit her lip.
"What really gets me," the hacker continued, "is I once saw Eliot take on three professional bad guys twice his size when he had a concussion and two broken ribs and he barely flinched. Do you know how bad the pain must be for him to turn tail and run to this place the way he did?"
Sophie shook her head. "Poor Eliot. No wonder he wanted to be left alone. Probably the only way he could stand it."
Parker was frowning deeply and pushed her popcorn into Sophie's lap.
"Not hungry anymore."
oooOOOooo
Parker peeked into Eliot's room, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Just like in the main part, the windows were blacked out and dim track lighting illuminated the floor. It smelled like leather and pine needles in here. And Eliot's soap.
She slipped inside silently, seeing the hitter curled up in the middle of his huge wood carved bed. She tilted her head at the fur that was tossed over the foot of it, wondering if it was real.
"What do you want, Parker?"
Eliot's voice was strangely muffled and she craned her neck to see him better. He had both arms wrapped around his head and under a pillow.
Shifting from foot to foot, she scratched her elbow and shrugged.
"Came to see if you needed anything."
With a sigh, Eliot pulled his head out and laid it on top of his pillow, eyes still closed. "At this point, Parker, I've taken everything medically advised and a few things that ain't. I don't think you can give me anything else that would help."
There was silence for a few seconds and then the rustle of clothes and he almost asked what she was doing. Then a warm, soft pressure pushed against his lips and his eyes flew open.
He found Parker hovering over him, a few inches from his face, her eyes wide and oddly innocent looking.
"What was that for," he asked, for a moment able to forget the constant pounding behind his eyes.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth briefly, "I thought it might make you feel better. I don't like seeing you hurt." Her eyes skittered away from him and then back, "did it?"
Eliot couldn't help his lopsided grin, and he nodded, surprised, "yeah, actually. For a second."
Parker's face lit up in a grin that, to Eliot's surprise, was not maniacal, but sort of sweet. Honest.
Her eyes fell closed and she leaned in again, and this time, expecting the kiss, Eliot kissed her back. Tentative and shy before becoming hot and demanding, neither of them accustomed to the slow and steady approach.
Too soon, Eliot pulled away, a pink flush on his cheeks, lips tingling. "Parker I…I can't." He shrugged one shoulder, "I want to but-" he saw her face fall and reached up to cup her cheek, "I can't do you justice right now darlin'."
Disappointed, Parker nodded and started to straighten and pull away, but Eliot caught her wrist.
She looked back and saw him squinting even against the extremely minimal light from the floor, but making an effort to smile.
"You can stay if you want."
Another one of those sweet, honest smiles slid across her face, this one a touch softer than the last.
Eliot had never realized how much he liked it when Parker smiled before.
oooOOOooo
Nate peered around the corner into the hallway. Sophie had gone searching for Parker a few minutes ago and had yet to return. He was a little surprised and more than a little confused to find her standing outside Eliot's bedroom door, a soft smile on her face.
"Sophie, what are you-?"
The grifter turned around, pressing a finger to Nate's lips, and then raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, indicating he should look where she was. Uncertain but curious, Nate did.
Inside Eliot's room, no more light than what a handful of candles might provide illuminated two figures in the middle of Eliot's bed. Parker lay on her back, propped up against the headboard her face relaxed in sleep. One of her long fingered hands lay delicately on Eliot's head.
Eliot had his face pressed partially into Parker's stomach, one muscular arm wrapped around her waist, and Nate hoped he too was asleep.
Sophie pulled him down the hall a bit, still smiling.
"All men are the same. They get sick, and they get clingy."
Nate scoffed, "I don't get clingy."
Sophie turned and raised an eyebrow, "you once called me twenty-seven times in a single night because you had the flu and couldn't find the cough syrup."
"That's not clingy, that's an emergency."
"Dude, that's clingy." Hardison appeared from the bathroom, holding a magazine, "Did you know Eliot has a subscription to Maxim?"
Sophie and Nate blinked at him and replied simultaneously.
"Why would we care about that?" "Which issue does he have?"
Sophie gave him an incredulous look and Nate cleared his throat.
"I'm gonna go make some coffee," he said, and disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sophie just shook her head and followed.
Ignoring them both, Hardison returned to the magazine, bending to the side slightly to see better in the floor lighting.
"Page 23," he said, grinning, "how you doin'?"
TBC