Chapter 20
Nate paced the length of the waiting room probably a hundred times.
Doing a circuit he walked from the doors, past the vending machine, under the archway, over to Sophie, and then back to the doors again ready for another lap. The poor overworked receptionist grew tired just from watching him, her legs aching in sympathy.
It was a familiar sight there in the ED, restless family members trying to distract themselves whilst they waited for news on their loved ones. The constant looking up whenever the doors opened, and the well-worn fingernails being chewed past their stubs. As a regular staff member, she saw the same scene play out day after day.
But this couple caught her attention, they seemed... extra nervous.
Nate had spent way too much time in hospitals for his liking. Just this year alone he'd clocked enough hours to earn his own loyalty card. When Sam died, he'd sworn that he wouldn't step foot on another ward, not even if he was the one needing treatment. And he'd done well to keep that promise.
But then Nate found a new family, people to love and care for, and someone to glue the cracks and stitch the tears in his mangled heart. Sophie was the love of his life, and with her came Hardison and Parker filling the gaps in their weird little household. He wouldn't have imagined it, not in a thousand years, but he even found himself a new son, one he could give guidance to and watch grow over the years. It took time, but Nate was starting to enjoy life again. He could finally picture a future that had some brightness to it.
That was until, like the bitch she is, Fate decided to knock him down again. Forcing him to watch as yet another son lay in a hospital bed. There were only a select few that he would break his promise for, and Eliot was near top of that list.
Nate stopped pacing just in front of his partner, turning sharply before he spoke.
"Did you manage to get hold of Hardison? Are they coming down here?"
"Yes, I called them on my drive over, he's getting them on the first flight possible."
The paramedics were quick and officiant when getting the patient into the back of the ambulance, being careful not to move him too much given his head and possible other injuries. Once Eliot was strapped in, they invited one person to join them, so Nate jumped in whilst his wife stayed behind.
Sophie was still shaking when one of the brewpub's chefs came in and offered to clean things up. At first, she didn't know what he meant, that was until he pointed out the blood stains still on the floor. She accepted his kind offer as well as Amy's suggestion that she help put the shopping away whilst the grifter got changed. A few minutes later, Sophie was back in her car heading up to the hospital.
"I explained what we knew, and promised to message them as soon as we had more."
And it seemed like they wouldn't have long to wait, as a recognisable face strode briskly through the door.
"Mr Krane," the doctor offered his hand before guiding the man over to the chairs. "I'm sorry it took so long; we've had an emergency come in that I had to deal with."
"No worries, Dr Davis, we're just glad we managed to get you. We feel a lot better knowing you're the one looking after Eliot. Since you know his case so well." Nate gave the doctor a warm smile but it trembled as he tried to force it, the medic appreciated the effort all the same. "Can you tell us what's wrong with him?"
The doctor flipped through his chart despite knowing the case far better than the back of his hand. For him, it was more of a coping method, something that gave him time before he had to speak. "It seems your brother has caught an infection. Now, normally this would be the kind that could be treated at home with plenty of bed rest and some anti-biotics. But in Eliot's case, his body is having to fight harder which is causing some complications."
On the ride over to the hospital, Eliot's temperature had spiked dramatically causing another bout of uncontrolled fitting. One of the paramedics was sitting in the back tending to the patient when he explained that, "this could be due to his lack of medication, or a reaction to his climbing fever. So, for now, we're just going to try and bring his temperature down slowly." Nate wasn't sure if their plan had worked because soon after Eliot was taken away from him.
"So, how do we fix this?" Sophie asked, her hand grasping tightly onto her husband.
"We've started him on some stronger medicine, and we have nurses checking on him regularly." His voice altered slightly, losing that overly professional tone doctors often had. "I know this seems like a lot, but everything will be ok. We knew this would happen on occasion; Eliot just needs a little extra help is all."
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He was somewhere different now. Even unconscious he stayed focused on the world around him, noticing all of the changes and trying to work out what they meant. The air smelt different, cleaner with none of the usual cooking smells that wafted in from the brewpub. And this bed wasn't his, these sheets were made of cotton, and his woollen overthrow was missing. Add the subtle beeping and the fact that his brain felt like it was on fire, and all evidence pointed to him being in a hospital room.
Maybe it wasn't the flu after all... or maybe it was and my immune system is just that screwed.
A warm feeling (different from the fever) spread through his body as he drifted further into his subconscious. He felt like he was falling, like Parker in that book... no that ain't right. This must be bad, even his own brain couldn't understand him. He argued with himself about classic literature for a few minutes, letting his body float lazily into the darkness as time and reality passed by. He barely acknowledged the moment he finally did land.
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After a couple hours of uncertainty, Nate had been allowed to visit his friend. He was currently sat at Eliot's bedside, his fingers brushing gently on the hitter's worn callused hand, whilst Sophie went to the airport to collect the rest of their team.
The doctor had told him not to worry, that despite how bad he looked, Eliot was doing well to fight off the infection.
Like most things in this new life, the younger man needed extra support to get through this. The (extra strong) antibiotics and breathing mask were like his crutches in a way, giving him the stability he needed to get by on his own. And the nurses were like the team, a constant presence just in case he falls...
Or at least that's how it should have been.
Why did I leave him like that? He was clearly sick and we'd been given all the warnings.
Watching Eliot just made that guilt punch harder, his stomach cramping with the pressure.
The hitter was struggling, it was the final round in the championship match and he was way out of his league. His skin was tinged a bright red as sweat drenched his vest creating a dark v pattern around his neck. His body shook as it fought hard to protect itself, the fever landing hit after hit until he was left breathless and begging for a reprieve. At some points it looked like Eliot might have given up, his body collapsing with exhaustion as its defences weakened. He was outmatched, just a tiny little featherweight who thought he was tough enough to challenge the heavyweight champion. If this was anyone else, Nate wouldn't like their chances.
But that didn't matter, because this was Eliot, the best damn hitter in the world no matter what has happened to him.
Nate was distracted from his thoughts by a low mumbling coming from the bed next to him.
"Sor... ad. I-I di... ean... hurt him."
He couldn't make out much, just the odd word here and there.
"Plea... 'm sorry... It was... fault. Shouldn't have... didn't mean to."
It sounded like the hitter was apologising about something. Whatever it was, it must have cut Eliot pretty deep, his voice held more emotion than it usually did. He almost sounded like a kid if you could look past the gravelly tone.
"Pl... dad."
Nate felt guilty for listening, this was obviously something private that Eliot wouldn't like him hearing. But he didn't want to leave in case his fever spiked again or he had more trouble breathing.
"I'm sorry... did... hurt... Eliot."
He didn't have time to question what he heard as a siren alarmed and the oxygen monitors went haywire.
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"Is Eliot ok?"
Hardison had just appeared from around the corner after splitting off from the girls. They were both in need of a caffeine fix, so that was first on the agender seeing as only one person could visit Eliot at a time. The hacker was surprised when he saw Nate waiting outside the hitter's room.
"Yeah. It's been up and down, and he had an anxiety attack earlier that didn't help his already poor breathing. But he's alright at the moment, the nurse is just checking him over."
"What's wrong with him?
Nate sighed, letting all the air expel from his lungs. "They think it's some kind of chest infection. The seizures were just his epilepsy acting up because he missed his dose and was overly tired."
He'd been afraid that it was so much more than that, that somehow Eliot had got some rare disease despite never leaving Portland. The fact that it was just your typical infection both relieved and frightened the mastermind. He was glad that it wasn't anything major, that they only needed some antibiotics to fix things, but it scared him to know that something so common could have this big an effect.
"Dr Davis suggested that he get his flu shots from now on, just to be on the safe side."
That was comforting to know, and Hardison made sure to notify his girlfriend as soon as he could. But still, for a man giving such positive news, Nate looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"What's wrong? You look like your hamster just died and I can't understand why."
"I'm worried about him," The older man stopped and started a few times, wondering what was fair for him to talk about. He knew he couldn't tell the hacker everything, but he could still ask for advice, couldn't he? "I think maybe... Oh, God." It really was hard to explain. "I think he's been bottling things up, and those things... feelings I guess, are taking their toll on him."
The hacker led them both to a nearby seating area, softly placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "What's been going on, Nate?"
"He's mentioned stuff, just little bits of information that suggest they may be some more serious issues. He's brought some of it up with his therapist, but she's working with an incomplete picture so there's not much she can do. I think if he could just open up to somebody, that person could help him a lot." Nate slumped back into his chair, almost as if all the air had been let out of him.
They both sat like that for another minute or two before the nurse came out to them.
"Why don't you go in next? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."
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"Hey man."
Hardison crept in slowly with footsteps made as light as possible just in case Eliot had fallen back to sleep. The hitter wasn't asleep, he was just staring silently out of his window, his open palm gently rubbing against his chest.
"You feeling ok?" The hacker asked, nodding his head toward the stroking motion. Even though the breathing mask had been removed, Eliot still had a slight wheeze whenever he inhaled.
The hitter coughed, trying to clear his inflamed throat before he spoke.
"I'm alright. Just a chest infection, should be cleared to go by tomorrow."
Hardison laughed quietly as he took the chair next to the bed. This all reminded him of the time they ended up in a Mexican clinic right near the border. He wanted to travel a bit more so they could get some American healthcare, but El said it was too risky. The doctor told them it would take at least a month for Eliot's arm to mend, and they needed to spend a week in the clinic while the infection cleared. What the doc didn't know, was that his patient didn't do waiting around in hospitals, and the next day they were both out of there.
"Did the doc actually say that, or is this Mexico all over again?"
It took Eliot a moment to realise what he meant; his brain was still a bit muddled from the few fits he'd had. But when it did make sense, he couldn't help but laugh. "Ha, no nothing like that. Don't think I'd get away with that, not with Nate here."
Eliot was struggling to breathe a little, so they tried to keep his side of the conversation short. Still, they needed to talk about some things while they had some privacy to do so.
"You know El, I wasn't always that open with people. Before I lived with my Nana, I'd had a lot of different homes, most of them only lasting up to a year, and they weren't nice places. So, I didn't like asking for help from people because I didn't think it would get me anywhere."
Hardison expected the hitter to interrupt or roll his eyes, but he actually seemed to be listening. Whether it was the illness tiring him out, or the drugs making him mellow, Alec didn't know. But he was glad for it anyhow.
"When I got sent to my Nana's, I didn't ask her for anything even when I really needed it, because that's what I was used to. And that was fine most of the time, and life just went on. But then there was this one incident... Let's just say, I got myself in a huge mess that I couldn't get out of. I tried my best to fix things, but there wasn't anything a kid like me could do. I needed an adult, but I didn't trust Nana to come help me, so I kept my mouth shut. In the end, things just got worse and worse until they couldn't be hidden anymore, and then Nana found out anyways."
"What happened?"
"She sorted everything out for me, and after that, we had a talk. She told me it was ok to ask for help, and the worse thing I was ever going to get was a rejection, but that would never come from her or anybody else that loved me. She also went on to explain that even though I coped on my own in the past, I didn't need to now." He moved a little closer, cupping his hand over the hitter's arm. "El, asking for help doesn't make you weak. I mean, you help the team out all the time, sharing cooking tips and teaching us new fighting styles, and you don't think less of any of us." He looked up to see the subtle head shake coming from the hitter, loving the fact that he didn't hesitate at all. "And the same goes for you. No one's going to judge you for needing help from time to time. We actually think you're pretty amazing. Not because of the things you've done, even though some of that stuff was damn cool, but because of how much you've achieved this past year. You've come so far, and yeah there's been some missteps along the way, but that's ok. As long as you let us, we'll catch you and get you back on your feet again. Do you understand me, El?"
"I do." It was a tiny little croak of a sound, but it was there.
"Good," The hacker leant back in his chair, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Oh, and next time you feel too sick to walk, use the damn button I installed. It's not a decoration you know."
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The rest of the team had been in and out as the day went on. Sophie had lectured him some more, and Parker just sat there quietly, holding on like he may vanish any second. As it got later, the others went home for food and showers, whilst Nate stayed for an extra couple of hours.
Eliot had slowly been getting better, his temperature reduced and his breathing became slightly clearer. So, if there were no complications during the night, he'd be able to go home tomorrow afternoon.
This scared Nate a little, he was still uncomfortable with looking after a sick Eliot, but he'd do it for his friend.
"Nate." The hitter hadn't long woken, and he'd been drifting in and out of consciousness all day. But he was probably the most clear-headed he was ever going to be, and he wanted to get this over with. He didn't want to have this conversation at home, where anyone could just walk in. And if things were going to go the way he thought they would, they needed to do this now where he could sort it.
So, taking a deepish breath, and wasn't that a mistake, he built up his courage to talk. "I need to tell you something."
The mastermind eased himself forward, moving slowly into the hitter's personal space. He knew not to crowd the man, but he wanted to be somewhere close, where he could offer comfort.
"You know that I've been talking to my therapist about my past and how it affects the way I feel sometimes?" Nate let out an affirming mumble before signalling Eliot to continue. "And you're probably aware that I haven't told her everything... Well, Hardison spoke to me earlier, and I think what he was tryin' to say was that I need to open up to people and ask them for help sometimes. That maybe some of my issues could be solved if I work with others to fix 'em. So that's what I'm trying to do, right here, right now with you."
God, why am I doing this? I've never told anyone this story, and for good reason. Nate's gonna hate me after this, he'll realise what a monster I am and throw me out on the streets. It was one thing working for Moreau, at least there we could say it was a moral grey area. Killing bad men on the orders of another bad man at least had some kinda' cosmic balance to it. But this wasn't that, this had no justice, I never had to face the consequences for my actions.
Still, I have to say something, one thing that Eliot Spencer is not and never will be, is a coward.
...
"When I was a kid, eleven to be exact, I did somethin' stupid and somethin' bad happened because of me." He was finding it hard to breathe again. Why he thought that now was the best time for this, when he was still recovering from a chest infection, he had no idea. But he could get through this, as long as he had Nate by his side. "You see, I didn't mean for it to happen, I never thought things through back then. I knew what I was doin' was wrong, but I didn't care. I thought that my actions only affected me, so I didn't think of the consequences. I was wrong, I know that now." A lesson quickly learnt in the harshest of ways. His head sunk as he thought about who had to pay for him to learn that lesson, and who it should've been instead. "It was my fault, Nate, I caused it."
"What did you do, El?"
There was a sharp intake of breath that burned his inside as he forced himself to hold it. "I-I killed my mama..." Tears had started to trickle down his face, but he quickly swiped them away. He didn't deserve the right to mourn, not when it was his fault. "And my brother too."
Nate kept quiet for a moment, thinking things through. He then whispered, "Eliot?" Not using it as his friend's name, but more as a question that he suspected he knew the answer to.
The hitter nodded before going on to explain, "When I got selected for black ops, they offered me a new identity. I chose my brother's name so I would never forget what I had done." That made sense and the mastermind murmured to that effect. "After that, it was just me and my pops. He could never look at me knowin' what I had caused, and to make things worse, I could never be what he needed me to be."
"What was that?"
The hitter sighed, sinking heavily into his mattress as memories reeled inside of his mind.
"My brother was older than me by quite a bit, so it was his job to inherit the store." Nate didn't even know there was a store in Eliot's history, the only person he had told was Hardison that one time. "But when he died, I had to take over. The only problem was that I was no good at it. My old man was always havin' to yell at me 'cause I was doing somethin' wrong. The day I left for the army, he made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was."
It seemed that Eliot was done talking after that, as he soon fell back to sleep.
Nate stayed there for another half hour, pondering what he'd been told. Things still didn't add up right, he still had a large part of the equation missing.