Chapter 12

"Damn it!"

Eliot had not long gotten out of the shower and was now attempting to get ready for his first proper outing since the accident. It was Nate's birthday and the team had decided that a meal out would be the best way to celebrate. They'd picked a nice steak house that wasn't too formal despite Sophies comments, and booked a table in a section that would accommodate their injured hitter. It took them a while to get Eliot to agree, he'd suggested on a number of occasions that they just go without him, but they eventually wore him down.

His clothes had been laid out for him, the jeans he recognised as a fairly new pair he'd brought just before the crash, and the shirt was a tight little number that hugged his muscled arms nicely. It was a typical going-out look for the man who at heart was still just a country boy.

After whipping off the towel that sat low on his hips, Eliot reached over and started pulling on the dark blue denim. He'd never really been one for wearing underwear and now it made things easier if he just skipped that step. Despite the physical therapy he did almost daily, his thighs and calves were not as thick as they were before so the jeans slid up pretty smoothly. That was until they got to his waist. The soft rolls where his abs used to be, bunched up under the fabric as he pulled hard to get the button closed. He wasn't fat by any means; he just wasn't the walking underwear model that he had been. It's hard to maintain a six-pack, you could have all the strength and muscle mass in the world, but if there is even a small layer of fat on you, all that hard work would be covered. And Eliot did work out his abdomen, you just couldn't see that under the months of laying stationary in bed and a recent decline in eating standards. He continued to pull on the denim waistband, begging it to stretch over the plump flesh that had gathered around his navel. "Damn those cake bars," he thought to himself as the skin pinched and caught between the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

When the button finally snapped into place, it didn't feel much like a victory. He quickly fastened the belt as an extra layer of security, before working on adjusting his mass until he found a more comfortable position. He pulled at himself and tugged down the jeans so they sat lower around his hips, the result of which was a roll of flesh spilling just slightly over the top of his worn leather belt. He tried to cover the sight with the shirt that had been picked out for him, but that just made things worse. The light blue material clung to his body, showing every dip and curve. In fact, the only place it wasn't tight, was around his arms which were only just starting to regain some muscle tone. Rummaging through his dresser, Eliot found a smart navy-blue sweater that Sophie had once brought him and used it to hide his embarrassment.

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The rest of the team was already dressed and waiting for the hitter in the communal area. They had heard some grumblings coming from his room but opted to ignore them, it wasn't that uncommon for their teammate to talk to himself in the privacy of his own space. Nate was tapping his finger along the back of the sofa as he waited patiently to start his birthday celebration.

"Eliot, are you ok in there? Do you need some help?" The mastermind called out, trying to fight the temptation to go over and check on him.

"Just give me a minute," came the growled reply.

The other thieves all slouched further into their seats.

Roughly five minutes later, Eliot rolled his way into the centre of the room. His once long hair was now just barely brushing his ears, with soft curls bouncing in a number of directions. A few stubborn strands kept sweeping against his icy blue eyes no matter how many times he tried to brush them back. Underneath that hair sat a smaller version of their hitter, not literally, but figuratively. He lacked the presence that he'd always had, that thing that made people stop and take notice, but only if he wanted them to. Gone was the confident cowboy with his rolled-up sleeves and filled-out jeans, he was now replaced with just your typical average joe with his heavily covered-up body and slumped posture. He was even wearing that sweater Sophie had gotten him, and it wasn't doing anything for his figure. The material was too thick, it just made the man look bulky and weighed down.

Not wanting to comment on his new attire, Nate got up and started to push the hitter down to the car park. "He's heavier than when we first brought him home," the mastermind thought. "He's finally building back all the muscle he lost."

"Guys, I'm not really feeling up to this," Nate paused at his friend's words. "I think you should just go out without me. I'll be fine with that, honest." Eliot was very aware of the pleading tone he was using, but every other tactic had so far failed.

The grifter slid a little closer and crouched down to the hitter's eye level. "Are you not feeling well Eliot?" She gently stroked his forehead with the back of her hand checking for any raise in temperature. "Is that why you're wearing that jumper? Are you cold?"

"No, just not in the mood is all."

Sophie looked up to the others, letting a small sigh escape from her lips. "Can you lot go wait in the van? We'll be out in a couple of minutes." The team nodded their agreement and filed their way out of the room. Before Eliot could even say her name in exasperation, Sophie turned back to speak. "I know this is tough on you Eliot, but please for Nate's sake, can we not do this tonight."

The hitter felt like a scolded school child with the grifter playing the role of a disappointed parent. "I just..."

"I understand, but this has to happen sometime so why not now? We have done everything we can to support you, but you need to help yourself at some point. I get that it's scary going out for the first time after the accident."

"That's not..."

"But this is what's best for you. You need to leave this place from time to time, and going to the hospital doesn't count."

"I..."

Sophie took the chair's handles and started to push. "So, we are going to have a nice meal, and that's that." The grifter carried on rambling completely oblivious to the hitter's attempts at responding. In a last-ditch effort, Eliot tried to manually break the wheels, but Sophie's strength won out without her even noticing what she'd done.

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The restaurant was nice. A good collection of classics mixed with a few experimental dishes, farm-to-table ingredients, and some custom ales that complimented the food. All in all, this was exactly the kind of place Eliot would pick to eat at. So why wasn't he eating? Every time Nate to a quick glance over to the hitter, he could see the man just moving the food around with no attempt to lift it towards his mouth. A lack of appetite hadn't been an issue so far, if anything, Eliot had taken to snacking during the day since the accident. He was fine at breakfast, and he knew not to go too heavy on lunch because of this evening.

"Eliot, did you take your migraine meds?"

The steady sound of muttering stopped as the rest of the table turned to look at him. "Yeah, I took 'em." He lowered his fork to the table; it wasn't like he was really using it anyway. "Why?"

"You're not eating, I was wondering if you were feeling a little nauseous?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him with concern in their eyes. He hated it when they did that, it made him feel 2ft tall and helpless. "I'm fine, just not that hungry. Guess I ate too much at lunch." And breakfast, and yesterday's dinner, pretty much every meal for the past month if the evidence is anything to go by. "I'm fine, you can carry on now." He squirmed in his seat as not a single pair of eyes left him. Every shift in position felt like stepping into the danger zone, the old leather of his belt creaking under the pressure. Why were they still looking at him like that?

"Eliot, you need to eat. The doctor said it was important that you had three meals per day that coincide with your medication." The mastermind picked up his chair and moved to sit next to the hitter. "So, if it's not nausea, what is it? Maybe I can help." That last part was spoken lowly so only Eliot could hear.

"As I already said," he pulled himself up a bit to relieve the pinching in his side. "I'm not hungry, that's all there is to it."

Shaking his head, Nate picked up the abandoned knife and fork and started cutting up the hitter's steak. "Well, you still have to eat and we're not leaving until you do. I'm not having you throwing up all night because you took your meds on an empty stomach." He stabbed a square piece of meat onto the fork and held it up with a raised eyebrow.

Eliot glared at the man next to him, his will standing strong. "I ain't a child, Nate. I can decide when I do and don't eat. And right now, I'm tellin' you, I ain't hungry, so drop it."

"Fine." He slumped back into his chair, two grey-blue eyes peering out from under a mess of dark curls. "Guess we're stuck here until you get hungry." He won't snap at his friend; he knew that there would be times like this and couldn't blame the man for his bad days. But Nate did have to put his foot down when Eliot's stubbornness and mood changes put his health at risk.

Seeing that he was fighting a losing battle, Eliot picked up his cutlery and started eating his meal.

The mastermind didn't move back to his seat, instead, he had his plate passed over to him so he could sit and keep an eye on his teammate. After a few bites of food had passed the hitter's lips, everyone else went back to their own meals and conversations.

Eliot was actually pretty hungry, so getting the food down wasn't a problem. It was just the constant nagging fear at the back of his mind as the waistband of his jeans dug deeper into his hips. About halfway through his dinner, the tightness was becoming unbearable, but the pleading looks he sent toward Nate didn't seem to have an effect. Once his plate was finally empty, he looked down to see the slight bulge concealed under his sweater. He could feel the denseness of his stomach like a lead weight pulling him down, the image he saw earlier in his bedroom coming back to haunt him like a bad dream. All he wanted to do, was to get back home and hide away.

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"Hey man, you ok to get yourself settled while I sort out the tv?" Hardison leaned over the back of the chair he'd just pushed into the room. Before he got a response, he was up and wandering over to one of the largest screens you'd ever seen in somebodies living room.

"What?" Eliot asked tiredly, rubbing his palms into his eyes to add to the effect.

"It's Thursday, movie night. Nate's picking, which means it's actually Sophie's choice, but oh well." He shrugged pulling a couple of cables out to attach to his laptop.

"I'm too tired for films tonight." And that wasn't a lie, his arms felt like noodles and the only thing keeping his head up was one of the handlebars that sat behind it. Some days just took a lot out of him, even if he wasn't physically doing much. "You guys have fun, I'll just get an early night."

"Oh, come on Sparky." Parker jumped out from nowhere, only just managing to stop herself from bouncing into the hitter's lap. "Movie nights are important; it's how we show we care about each other."

When she and Hardison just started dating, he was insistent on them having a regular movie night so they could learn more about each other. Parker didn't seem that interested and they ended up having their first couple's argument. One night, she made her way to the roof to find Eliot sitting there staring out at the moon. He explained to her the meaning behind those movie nights, and how the hacker just wanted to get to know her and spend time with her because he cares. Nowadays, movie nights have become a group thing, it lets everyone know that they're more than just a team, but actually a family.

"I know that Parker, but it's ok to miss the odd one if you're not feeling up to it."

"If you're tired, we can set you up in the recliner, that way you can nod off anytime you want." At some point, Hardison had moved closer and he was now clutching at his girlfriend's side.

"I don't want to sit and fall asleep in the recliner; I want to go sleep in my own bed. I don't see what the problem is." Tiredness was morphing into exhaustion which in turn was making him foul-tempered.

"The problem is, Eliot, that you've been acting off all day." Great, now Sophie was joining in and Nate didn't look too far behind. "You have been trying to get out of pretty much everything without giving us a proper reason why." She sighed and crouched down in front of him, the others circling around, leaving him no route to escape. "If you're feeling a little under the weather, that's fine, these things happen. But you need to tell us so we can keep an eye on you."

"I'm not sick, and I think my reasons were pretty valid." He huffed and searched for a way out of this conversation. "Now can I just go to bed before I fall asleep in this damn chair?"

"No, not until we get some answers." She started listing things off using her fingers to count them. "Why didn't you want to go out this morning? Why wouldn't you eat your dinner? And why are you bailing on movie night?" Brown eyes met steely blue ones as she waited for a reply.

"I told you already. I wasn't in the mood, I wasn't hungry, and now I'm tired. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"How about the truth, because those all just sound like excuses." It was a very exasperated Nate that responded. "And I'm tired of trying to read between the lines when you could just tell us straight up what the problem is."

The room went quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the hitter as he sat tight-lipped in his chair. After a few seconds of waiting, the mastermind sighed throwing his arms up in the air and walked away, the others following his example.

"Maybe that's the problem..." Eliot's voice was barely above a whisper.

"What was that?"

"Maybe that's the problem, Nate." He spoke louder this time, the built-up exhaustion making his emotions more volatile despite his usual control. "All of you have stopped listening to me. You take everything I say and disregard it, deciding that I can't possibly know what I need. I'm 37 Nate, I'm not a child, I can make my own choices. I don't need you pickin' out clothes for me, pushin' me 'round, and I definitely don't need you feedin' me like a toddler." His voice was getting louder as his face reddened in anger. For once he didn't need to have such tight reigns over his rage, because it wasn't like he could hurt anyone other than himself. "Why are you treating me like I don't know my own mind? I used to go off on solo gigs all the time without you battin' an eyelid, but now, you can't even leave me at home for an evening or give me some space when I ask for it. You want my reasons for my behaviour today." It was a rhetorical question that he didn't give them time to respond to. "I wasn't in the mood to go out, simple as that. I wasn't eatin' because I didn't want to, and I'm going to bed because I'm tired. If you still think that I'm bullshittin' you for God knows what reason, then take that up with yourselves and stop botherin' me."

Without another word, Eliot swung his chair around and wheeled himself quickly into his room.