Chapter 11
It had been two weeks since they brought Eliot home from the hospital, and things were just now starting to settle into a rhythm. During the day, each member of the team had their time scheduled around the hitter and his needs. And in the evening, they would join together to share food and stories. It was very rare for Eliot to ever be alone, giving him little to no time to sink further into his own thoughts. But still, he managed it...
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Nate
.
"Do you have everything for your physio session? I don't want us to be late again."
The mastermind was frantic as he searched under cushions and behind plant pots for his keys. His new role as Eliot's brother and primary carer hadn't been going well, and this was looking to be the third time in a row that they would be late. Dr Davis had warned Nate about the importance of routine, and the therapists had further pointed out that being late lost his brother essential time in the physio suite. And he knew all that already, he was still adjusting is all. He would get used to the early morning appointments that didn't seem to account for the fact that he needed to get a grown-ass man out of bed, washed, dressed and into a wheelchair before even thinking about leaving. The one silver lining here was that he was getting a good workout every day.
The only person who didn't seem to mind their tardiness, was the hitter himself.
Eliot didn't like the first bit of his sessions, because it always revolved around him talking about himself. He wanted to just get on with the physical stuff so he could fix his damn leg and arm, but apparently, talk therapy was a big part of the healing process. It was also mandatory and couldn't be skipped in favour of going to the suite. He'd already tried slowing Nate down, (complaining about cramps so he would stop and wait for it to pass) in order to miss the talking part, but they just took the time out of his other therapy instead.
(Eliot wasn't the first person to try this tactic. In fact, they had a policy created for people just like him.)
"Yeah, I've got everythin'," the hitter quickly spoke, waving franticly at the door. "Can we go already? That woman said I'd have to spend the whole session discussing my feelings if I was late again."
"Her name is Stephanie. And she wouldn't say that if you would just answer her questions properly." Having found his keys, Nate promptly pushed the hitter out of the apartment and around to the back entrance that had been newly fitted with ramps. In the staff parking lot, Lucile was waiting with an extra step and set of handrails added to its passenger side seat.
After struggling to pull himself into the van, Eliot finally decided to comment back, "her questions are stupid and have nothing to do with fixin' m' leg." He was panting harshly as he tugged on his seatbelt. "I don't see the point in just sittin' there talkin' bout how I'm feelin' when there's a set of machines right next door that can help get me out of that stupid chair."
"They just need to make sure that you're not bottling up your emotions." He could hear the sarcastic huff coming from the seat next to him. "What with the head injury and all the changes you've had to make, they need to look out for signs that you're becoming depressed or anxious. They're not trying to trick you into giving information you don't want to give."
"Sure feels that way."
Nate sighed, rubbing his finger and thumb across the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you tell me then? Be honest with me about how you are feeling right now and I'll talk to your therapist about backing off a bit." It was a compromise that probably wouldn't go down too well with the professionals, but anything was worth a shot. A blind man could see that Eliot wasn't coping, but he needed to talk to them before they could do anything to help.
"Like it told Stephanie, I'm fine."
The mastermind was running out of ideas, and he could tell that everyone else's patience was waning with each passing day.
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Hardison
.
The hacker was fitting yet another handrail, this one in the kitchen. It seemed that was all he did these days, and he would be upset about it if he hadn't seen why he was doing it. This latest addition came after an incident involving a simple glass of water.
It wasn't uncommon for the ex-soldier to wake up in the middle of the night after having yet another bad dream. This time he woke up with an extremely dry mouth, probably caused by a bout of screaming. He wasn't often vocal in sleep, but on occasion, he would wake up shouting a dead friend's name. That's why he never stayed over after sex, which always resulted in those relationships falling short.
It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to get himself into his chair and roll over to the kitchen area. He pulled down the door of the dishwasher, only to find it empty. He had never known any of the team to unload that thing voluntarily, why now did they have to learn? The hitter looked up to the cupboard where the glasses were kept, all he needed was something to grab and hold onto while he reached up there. The side had plenty on it, just nothing that was fastened down. His only option was to try and grip onto the counter itself where it overhung slightly.
He managed to pull himself up alright, and even got the glass out, it was when he turned towards the sink that everything went to shit.
Eliot still had one hand firmly grasping the side whilst the other held the glass. He was trying to figure out how to get himself and the glass two steps over to where the tap was when his leg gave out suddenly. Now normally this wouldn't be an issue, as long as his left hand was holding onto something, he could hold himself upright until he could get his feet back under him. But this time he didn't have enough of a grip, so he ended up flat on his back next to a pile of broken glass instead.
The team all came running toward the sound of said glass breaking, each of them sliding to a halt as soon as they saw the hitter lying helplessly on the floor with blood seeping out of his right hand.
If putting up fifty handrails would prevent that sight, then the hacker would do it in a heartbeat.
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Sophie
.
It was the grifter's turn to watch over her teammate. Everyone else went out, running little errands that couldn't be ignored any longer. It had been a little over half an hour since she last checked in on the hitter, who by now should have been finished with his shower. She didn't want to rush him though, and going in there before he'd had a chance to get dressed would only embarrass the man. Instead, she made herself a second cup of earl grey and settled down on the sofa.
.
Eliot had finished his shower about ten minutes ago, however, he wasn't dressed yet. Getting out of the wet room wasn't the issue, and he was dry enough to change into a pair of sweats by now. But still, he was sat in his chair with just a white fluffy towel keeping him decent. Water dripped from the mess of curls that hung down way past his shoulders, making him shiver with each little icy drop. Normally he would spend a good ten minutes brushing and blowing out his hair in an attempt to control the often-wild mane, but that took a strength he just didn't have right now. He could leave it natural, but that would just annoy him, too much hair going in too many directions. Eliot looked at the straight razor that had been taken from his bathroom upstairs. Whoever packed up his stuff must have brought it down with them despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to shave with it yet, (in fact, he wasn't sure if his hand would ever be stable enough to use it again). But for his current plan, it was perfect.
.
Sophie was coming to the end of her drink and still hadn't heard a peep from the hitter. She was begging to worry that he'd fallen and possibly hit his head. Without a second thought, she raced through the bedroom and straight into the bathroom not even stopping to knock.
"What the hell, Eliot!" She shouted; her eyes fixed on the man as he tugged on the last piece of long hair. It was pulled taught with the blade of his razor resting just below his ear. Before she could utter another word, he sliced through the final brown lock, soaking wet strands falling limp against his face. "What have you done?"
The hitter shrugged and stated, "no point keeping it long if a cant look after it." He then picked up another towel to begin rubbing his short hair dry.
"You could have just asked me to do your hair for you. Or we could have least gone to a professional to get it cut."
"What does it matter if it looks decent? Nobody's gonna notice what I look like past the chair and lame arm." He pushed himself out of the bathroom, Sophie trailing close behind. She hadn't yet observed the fact that he was still only covered by a towel that was gradually becoming undone. Eliot reached into a draw, pulling out a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, not caring much about the holes that scattered both items. As he turned back, he signalled that it was time for some privacy, and the grifter quickly left.
.
By the time the hitter was dressed and made his way out, his hair was dry. Because of its much shorter length, the curls were a lot more prominent with nothing weighing them down. When the grifter had first seen it, she thought it would be roughly the length he'd worn when they first met, but that didn't count for shrinkage. In fact, it looked as if you could almost cover the entirety of his hair with one of the beanies he loved to wear. It actually kind of suited him, she didn't realise how much of his amazing bone structure had been hidden away.
"I'll take you to get it neatened up tomorrow, ok?"
"Whatever." He sighed and rolled on over to the kitchen.
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Parker
.
Parker missed Eliot.
She knew he wasn't gone, but she still missed him.
They were the same, they could talk to each other about the real stuff and not feel judged. But since the accident he'd been pulling away, keeping everything bottled up inside.
Nobody knew this, but late at night, he would wander onto the roof. He said that it relaxed him, being able to see the sky, something about his time in the army and being free. Sometimes she would go out and sit with him. They would talk as they watched the sun come up with shades of orange and pink. One time she told him about where she got her bunny from and why it meant so much to her, so he returned the favour and told her about the friend he lost in battle. Those two knew more about each other than anyone could ever imagine.
But now, looking at the man as he plastered another fake smile on his face, it was like looking at a stranger. She had no clue what he was thinking or why his nights had been plagued with so many bad dreams. She'd asked Sophie about it, and she'd said to just give him time, soon enough they'd have the old Eliot back.
She hoped the grifter was right because she really did miss her best friend.
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Eliot
.
Eliot cherished any moment he could get alone. It wasn't that he didn't like his team, there was a time in his life when he thought he'd be alone forever, and deservedly so. But sometimes it was too much. He couldn't always keep up the pretence of being ok, but seeing the looks on their faces whenever the mask dropped was heartbreaking. He thought he was done hurting people, but here he was ruining his friends' lives for his own selfish reasons. There were other options, they didn't need to look after him, but they didn't want him to feel abandoned and truth be told, he didn't want to go.
The therapist had been trying to get him to talk honestly about the way he was feeling, but what was the point when he knew she wouldn't get it. He still had so much to be grateful for, yet he felt so lost and empty inside. What was the point of him doing all this work if he didn't have a purpose anymore, it wasn't like he could just take a year off and jump back into work. There was no way that Nate was going to let him back with the head injury he got, and Vance would have been informed as soon as the doctor got his test results. He'd gone from people fighting over him to being that reject in the corner that nobody wants. Eliot wasn't made to be idle, he was built for action, "I can rest when I'm dead." But now his whole life was on pause while he figured out, what's next?