Man I Used to Be #8
Title: Man I Used to Be
By: Jendavis
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Alec's head bounced against something, hard. Maybe the back of the seat, maybe the frame, he couldn't be sure, but it hurt like a bitch.
Outside, rubble was still falling as the van continued to rock, shaken by the explosion. Each shudder sent more glass loose from its frame, sending it raining down over the front seats.
Parker had blood running down the side of her face, as she unclenched her eyes and turned to check on Alec. Alec found himself mirroring her movements, feeling his face gingerly, careful not to cut himself on the razor sharp splinters.
As far as he could tell, she'd borne the brunt of it.
"Parker?!"
"I'm fine," Parker shook her head, scowling. "It's nothing. You?"
Still shaking his head, trying to clear it, he decided, "I'm all right. Eliot?" He twisted, trying to see back into the swimming darkness of the van and getting no response. "Eliot!" Gotta check on him.
With a final look through the nonexistent windshield and almost as an afterthought, he tried to search out the sniper, but there was no one on the roof. The guard was already halfway across the parking lot, destination unknown.
Probably scared off by the explosion, or at least by the attention it's going to bring. It was as safe as it was liable to get. Doesn't mean he went far.
"Wait here," he told Parker. "Keep a lookout." His body ached as he opened the door, and he nearly fell to the ground. He felt himself starting to weave. It's just the adrenaline wearing off. Too many muscles relaxing all at once. Coughing as he used the van as leverage, he eased around to the side and slid the door open.
Eliot was still lying there, curled in on himself, one arm over his head, like he was waiting for the rest of the world to finish collapsing.
"Hey man," Alec crawled in beside him, glancing nervously up over the seat towards Parker. "You alright?" He reached out to brush over Eliot's shoulder, a move that any other day probably would have landed in the emergency room.
Ain't like we're not on our way there anyhow.
He ran his palm carefully down to Eliot's elbow, feeling the warm breath at his fingertips as he passed near Eliot's face, just barely brushing against Eliot's matted beard. Under his arm, Eliot's head was rocking back and forth. He pulled his arm down, in towards his chest, but didn't shake off Alec's hand. He tried, for a moment, to turn his head, but got as far as catching one glimpse of Alec before settling again. Speaking to the interior of the van, which had evidently provided better protection against the blast than the glass up front had, he rasped, "What happened?"
"There was an explosion-" Alec said, and he wasn't sure it was his words that caused Eliot to go so suddenly pale, but he hurried to continue. "Think the bomb was set off. Parker's a little cut up, but we're fine."
Eliot started to say something that sounded like "did," "dad," or "dead," but cut himself off with a cough. Just as well. Alec wasn't feeling too verbose himself at the moment, either.
His hand was still settled unnoticed in the crook of Eliot's arm. Got better things to be doin' than worrying about awkwardness. Focus, man. Squeezing gently, he pulled away as Parker's startled shout swung his head in her direction.
"We got incoming!"
Alec craned his neck to see through dizziness and the rear door's smoked windows, just in time to see the silver sedan pulling into the parking lot, aimed unerringly in their direction.
---
Lord, not now. Ain't got time for- Shit. What do we do?
There wasn't enough time to get up front and get the van moving before the car reached them, and anyway, it was blocking their exit.
You could always get out and run, his brain offered unhelpfully. If you don't have anything better to do.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he swung into the driver's seat, not quite carefully enough to avoid the glass Parker hadn't managed to sweep aside. He startled as a sharp pain announced itself in his palm. He didn't need to look down to see the glass stuck in it, and anyway, he could deal with that later. He could make himself deal with it later. They had to get out of here.
His foot was on the pedal, the keys in the ignition, and the van was actually starting.
He didn't bother to stop and appreciate the miracle, just started turning the wheel.
"Hardison!" Parker's shout stopped him before the sight of the car slamming to a stop three feet from the bumper did. He was too startled not to stomp on the brakes.
Over the hood, staring back at him as she edged the passenger side door open, was a panicked looking Sophie. On the other side of the sedan, the door was already slamming shut, Nate stalking hurriedly around towards the van.
He was asking "What the hell's going on?" even as Sophie started in with "Did you find him?"
He couldn't not laugh, even if he couldn't find the joke. It was Parker who answered.
"Eliot's in back, needs a doctor. We're fine. The bomb went off."
Sophie dove for the side door of the van as Nate stepped back to let her pass, glancing back towards the road, already thinking.
"Okay. We need to get out of here. Can Eliot sit up?"
"Mostly, I think. Not for long."
"Okay. You and him are riding in the back of the car. Sophie, you're driving. Parker-" he broke off, catching a clear look at her for the first time. "Your face."
"Just some scratches."
"There's a first aid kit in my pack," Alec said, stepping tiredly out of the van and truthfully, acutely aware of how glad he was that Nate was there to run things. That it wasn't all on him anymore.
Nate was nodding at Parker. "Grab it, then. You doing okay enough to help me ditch the van?" Parker nodded, rummaging to find what she needed before tossing Alec's pack to Nate, who transferred it to the car.
Turning back towards the van, Alec could see that it was taking a massive effort for Sophie not to react to what she was seeing. He could almost see the words trying to sort themselves out in her head.
He couldn't blame her for going so pale. He felt a lot like throwing up too.
Off in the distance, there were sirens.
Scrambling, he had to force himself to not just reach in and yank Eliot out onto the pavement. Instead, he slid in next to him, offering an arm where he could, something to clamber up against so he could swing his legs out of the van.
With Sophie there for him to lean on, Eliot managed to stand much easier than he'd done before, and made his own way to the car.
Nate already had the door open, and was watching him with keen concern, but Eliot didn't notice. Eliot hadn't looked at either of them since they'd arrived. Alec wondered what it meant.
Don't mean nothin' at all, and you got plenty of time to think on it on the road.
Shifting his legs to make room, he settled in next to Eliot, watching out the car window as Nate said something to Sophie that Alec didn't quite catch, understanding more when her hand went from her pocket to her ear, swiveling her comm. unit into place as she hurried around to the driver's side.
Alec wanted to say something to Nate, wanted to ask him something, but he was already slamming the door shut. As soon as Sophie was seated, the sedan turned, and the van slid from view.
---
If he sat up straight- and for a moment, there, he'd tried- his ribs would have started screaming again. It wasn't worth it, so for the time being, he let every turn the car made, every vibration coming up from the road, settle his body a little closer into Hardison's.
Hardison wasn't saying anything, it was probably killing him not to, but for now, Eliot figured, he'd let himself play the injured card. Long as anyone wasn't asking.
And besides. He was out of that place that wasn't even a place anymore, that was really, from what he'd been able to tell, just a pile of rubble. Still nowhere anyone wanted to be, but that space that he'd occupied had been filled in. Didn't exist anymore, even if he couldn't stop seeing it as he screwed his eyes shut a little bit tighter.
Now, though, he just pictured that space filling in, concrete and filing cabinets and rebar crushing in on him, against his ribs and stealing the air from his lungs so he couldn't call out, couldn't get Shauna's or Stella's or whoever's attention.
You don't need to. You're out. You're here.
He was dimly aware of the fact that he didn't know where here was, exactly, but if he wanted to figure that out, he'd have to open his eyes and ask.
And he'd probably find Hardison there, all too willing to tell him, looking down at him like he knew damned well how bad things were, like he knew every thought running through his head. Leaving him with nothing that wasn't his alone.
Like that's something new.
Hardison was solid against him, and didn't move away, and his skin, in the small spaces where Eliot's touched his, was warm.
His arm hurt like a bitch, and he knew he should move. He would, in a minute, but for now, the heat was worth it.
If anyone asked, Eliot was asleep. It wasn't too far from the truth, anyway.
---
"I'm not trying to be. You know. But shouldn't we be with them? It's not like we can't afford to pay for the damages on the van."
"We can't afford to have the damages traced back to the warehouse."
"Hardison could probably-"
"Hardison's probably got a concussion. He's dead on his feet and it's probably just hitting him now. No. What we're going to do is ditch the van somewhere, and grab a taxi back to the hospital. So. In the meantime. Tell me what happened."
"Um." Parker thought for a minute. "We got in, there was only one guard. I distracted him while Hardison went after Eliot," she said, following Nate's lead and shoving her comm. unit into place. Not bothering to see who else was on the line, she continued. "He spooked, and. Oh! He asked where you two were. Had a gun. Hardison came up and we took him out, tied him up. Got him out of there when he did, but he ran off. Eliot wasn't doing so good. Awake but not really there, but he was mostly moving on his own. Got him into the van, and were ready to get out of there when the building imploded."
"Did you see the detonator?"
"I don't know. You'll have to ask Hardison, but he didn't seem like he was expecting the bomb to go off while we were still there. Oh! And there was a sniper on the roof of the warehouse across the street. He could have had a remote detonator."
"A sniper?" Sophie's disbelief crackled loudly in their ears.
Nate turned off the main avenue as the fire truck crested the hill, speeding towards the warehouse. Glancing in the rearview, the police cars that followed had evidently made no note of the van. He sighed, a little more heavily than usual.
"Okay, so Sophie. What's the story when you get to the hospital?"
There was a murmuring in the background, evidently Hardison wasn't on the line. A moment later, Sophie answered.
"Agent Brakowski has been in deep cover for the past eleven months. Two weeks ago, he fell off our radar, and we sent Agent…" Sophie paused, before confirming, "Agent Harris in to recover him."
"Okay, good," Nate nodded, already going into spin mode, reciting their cover, giving Sophie her lines. "We recovered him from a tenement downtown, and apologize that we cannot share more details, as the investigation is ongoing. Might want to remember that any mention of their presence would not only blow the case he's put so much into, but it would attract the exact sort of attention that no hospital is built to handle. You've got the IDs you need?"
"Two undercover agents and a very stressed but otherwise beautiful section chief, coming up," Sophie tried to answer lightly. "Let me know when you two arrive at the hospital, and I'll step out to slip you your badges."
"Hardison's got covers for all of us?" Parker's question turned into a dry cough, but she waved away Nate's offered water bottle.
"Three full sets at least," Sophie replied, amusement showing through. "I'd give you the full rundown, but I'm just hitting traffic."
"Don't crash!" Parker coughed adamantly, this time accepting the water.
"Right. Well. Be there in a bit. How're the guys doing?"
Sophie didn't reply for a moment, and Parker swung her head, her face tight with worry at what the silence could mean.
"We're about five minutes out," Sophie sounded like she was trying to assure the entire universe, trying to set reality. "It's going to be fine."
---
By the time Sophie had turned out of the parking lot, Eliot had either gone unconscious or catatonic, Alec couldn't be sure. Not without turning to look.
And he didn't want to. If he saw Eliot fading out on him, dying on them, Alec wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from freaking the fuck out.
If Eliot was looking better, more aware, whatever, then one of them might have to start talking.
He just needed a minute.
Alec stared out the window, aware of little else besides motion and the dim realization that he had no idea where they were going, that the landmarks passing by probably meant something to someone, but not to him. Under all that was the strip of heat along his right arm, where Eliot's shoulder was pressing in, a bit too closely to be ignored.
Blinking out through the window, he realized that they were probably due for some rain.
Sophie was asking him questions, then, but mostly talking to Nate. If Alec could've found the energy to go into his pockets, he could have dug out one of the comm. units and gotten in on the action, but for once, he was willing to let the information pass by unheard and unknown.
For now, he'd just sit there, letting the vibrations from the road lull him into a stupor, and try to ignore the pounding in his head.
They pulled up to the emergency room entrance, and Sophie left the car running as she hurries inside. Alec was dimly aware that there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't figure out what it was, couldn't find the energy to try. The idea of moving made him sick. Dizzy. He still wanted to puke.
Chill.
In a few moments, they'd be inside. There would be the usual antiseptic smell and cold fluorescent lights shining over walls painted in neutral colors, a failing attempt to make the hallways seem healthy, alive and calm. There would be doctors, nurses, and a rush of questions while everything got sorted. There would be the usual tension at the back of his neck while he worried that they wouldn't buy the story, that he'd missed something while forging their identification. That he'd grabbed the wrong insurance cards.
For now, though, he sat next to Eliot and waited for Sophie to go start digging them out of the mess he'd made.
---
Alec tried to wave off the nurses and the doctor, tried to get their attention to where it needed to be- on Eliot! I'm fine- but he was outnumbered and outgunned, and they were leading him to a bed but not letting him lie down. Shining lights in his eyes, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm.
Blinded by the light, it was hard to see what they were doing, where they were taking Eliot.
The hands of some nurse named Rita were pushing and pulling and poking and prodding at him, and he wasn't sure that he didn't actually try to swat her off. He wasn't sure of much at the moment, other than how tired he was. He was only dimly aware of Sophie's voice, talking to someone about medical records. She said something about security and a private recovery room.
In the background, there was a beeping, too slow to be counting down seconds, edging everything else out of his consciousness, and eventually, edging Alec out too.
---
It took him a few minutes, but Eliot could remember making it to the gurney, but then nothing. A blank space that went on too long, interspersed by brief flashes. Strange efficient hands. Footsteps in the hallway and muted voices talking fast.
He wasn't sure he'd been aware of them at the time, but he was coming out of it again.
The ground beneath him was too soft, the lights too bright and muted all at once.
But the cold was back.
They'd taken his clothes, the ones Hardison had brought him, and somewhere in the back of his head he'd had to know it was coming, but it didn't help buffer the shock and indignity of it all.
The hands were back, two sets this time. One set was shoving his arms this way and that, and the other was trailing a warm dampness that froze on his skin, and he wanted to tell them to stop, to leave him alone, but they were ignoring him. Or maybe they didn't notice.
The gray haired woman seemed to be talking about her daughter's karate classes. Or maybe a movie she'd seen, he couldn't be sure. Couldn't concentrate enough to find words, and he was too tired to be sure that his attempts to move, to get some distance, weren't just batted away without a glance.
He just wanted to be left alone, figure this out. Assess the situation and move on, but he couldn't think with all this going on.
When he rolled his head to the side, it felt like it never stopped moving, continuing down through the pillow, down and down.
They'd drugged him. They'd fucking drugged him.
They wanted to keep him weak, complacent. Keep him down and under control, and if-
Where's Hardison? Parker? If they-
There was a clattering out on the other side of the curtain, something falling to the floor, and he only really noticed it because one of the nurses jumped, dropping his arm, which wrenched as it fell to the mattress.
They're coming back, going to get you out, he thought, but then the younger one carefully picked his arm up again, resettling it at his side with a look on her face that looked like apology. Sympathy maybe.
It was all wrong. Didn't make sense. If he could just get clear-
You need to think. Use your fucking head. You're fine.
They had realized he was awake, and were smiling calmly down at him as the older one began to speak.
"Hello, Agent Brakowski. Good to see you're back, that is, if you're done fighting. We're just about done getting you cleaned up. We'll get some clothes on you again, and the doctor will be back to- don't touch that," she caught his hand en route to his face, where there was something touching his skin. "We've got you on oxygen as a precaution, okay?"
Dropping his hands, he nodded, too distracted to figure out why they were calling him Brakowski. He missed hearing his own.
But there was sense to be found, now. They were nurses. He was in a hospital. They got his name wrong, but who knew what the hell he'd told them when he arrived- he couldn't even remember getting there.
Warm cotton and a moving car. Back seat. Clouds moving in outside the window, and Hardison next to him as he tried to keep his eyes from searching out Sophie's in the rearview mirror.
---
Alec woke up to Parker's stare breaking into a tired grin that pulled at the bandages on her face. She looked like she was about to say something, but even then, Alec startled when her voice echoed in the hallway outside.
"Hey! Ah, guys? Harris is awake!"
Harris? Oh. Right.
Sophie's heels clicked across the floor as Nate followed in exhaustion.
"Ah. Hey guys," Alec waved, squinting them into focus. "How long was I out?"
"Not long," Nate looked to Sophie, who answered Alec's next question.
"They're moving Eliot into a recovery room any minute now, but they've already ducked out to tell us he's going to be fine. You got him out of there in time."
Alec's grin felt more tired than it should have been. "Age of the geek, baby." Sitting up was awkward, but he was relieved to find they hadn't changed him into some nightgown or something embarrassing like that.
For long moments, the four of them were left floundering for something to say. It lasted until Parker, all adrenaline worn off, yawned heavily.
"Let's get you to the hotel," Sophie said, hand resting on Parker's arm. "Nate's already made reservations for the three of us."
"Three of us?" Alec could feel the panic welling up, and already his head was beginning to throb again as worst-case scenarios played out. A thousand different doctors walking into the room, gripping clipboards with trained seriousness. "We've found something…"
"I feel fine. Ain't no reason to be leavin' me-"
"On the down side, you've got a concussion. On the up side, you'll be rooming with Eliot once they get him moved in. Easier for us to maintain security, see. The three of us will rotate. You're probably going to be released first thing in the morning."
"But."
"You really feel like moving more than fifty feet right now, you let me know," a voice said from the door, and Alec turned to see a woman pushing a wheelchair into the room. She was young, but something in her reminded him enough of Nana that the only response he could possibly make was no, ma'am.
Sitting absolutely still and on his best behavior, he watched Nate usher Parker and Sophie out of the room and half-listened to him explain that he'd be back in half an hour.
That's something, at least. He wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of having them watch him being wheeled out in the chair.
He wasn't counting on Sophie waiting in the hallway outside. Leaning in close, she whispered, "We'll be back soon. Keep an eye on him," before kissing him on the temple.
He pulled a face, pretended like it wasn't making him feel any better, because there was only so much humiliation a man could take.
The nurse, though. She just laughed.
---
Eliot was starting to doze off again, still thinking about the doctor's words.
"Stay in bed…between the dehydration and malnutrition…rest…renal function, hopefully you won't need dialysis but we're going to be monitoring it 'round the clock…but if the pain gets worse, we can up your dosage…"
The usual, then.
In another few hours, he'd start fighting it, probably. Go find the others, who were probably nearby.
Or maybe closer, judging by the racket coming in through the door. Hardison.
"I can walk, you know. It's my head that got hit. Ain't like some shark came along and bit my legs off."
"That would be impressive, though," a woman's voice replied in a stage whisper. "Concussions, I've seen plenty. Just hang on…get you situated here. Okay, Mister FBI, up!"
Eliot swallowed, rolling his head slightly to look at the door, seeing only the curtain shifting to the side.
"A'ight, see? I'm fine."
"Then you're well enough to keep it down, aren't you? Agent Brakowski needs to rest, so you need to stay quiet. I can sedate you if need be."
"That a good idea with a head injury?"
"You passed out when we drew blood earlier, and you're still here, so I'm not too worried."
"I am so going to call the American Medical Association when I get out of here."
"Let's get you out of here, first, and I'll give you the number myself. Now hush. I'll be back in a bit to check on you. If you're good, I'll even bring you a magazine. I think we've got enough copies of Highlights to keep you entertained for hours."
"Great." There was a pause, then, and Eliot had to strain to hear what came next. "Um. Hey. Is he. Ah. Can I see him?"
The nurse must have acquiesced, because the curtain was beginning to move, though Eliot slid his eyes shut before it opened completely.
"He looks…"
Eliot listened hard, needing to hear, needing to know, but for once, Hardison fell quiet and stayed there.
That's not good.
"He's resting," the nurse's tone was kind. "But he's going to be fine."
A few moments more, and she drew the curtain closed again, and Eliot allowed himself to breathe.
The nurse was talking again, her voice serious and quiet.
"You got him out of there. From what your boss said, you got everyone out. It went great."
A few moments later, and the door was closing again, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Eliot listened hard for a few moments, and wasn't even surprised when he heard it.
"Yeah. Great," Hardison muttered with a quiet snort.
Eliot wished he hadn't closed his eyes, wished he hadn't pretended to be asleep. Setting aside the entire notion that his first instinct had been to do what he could to hide, he was slowly catching onto something, here.
Visitors don't get put in hospital beds.
But Hardison had been talking, he was probably going to start in on some rambling dissertation about some inconsequential thing or another any minute now, and everything would start inching back towards normal. Eliot could lie here and listen, pretend they were in a hotel somewhere, out on a job, and that he only ached because the bouncer had turned out to have a black belt or three. Pretend to sleep as Hardison's voice washed over him like a blanket.
Any minute now.
---
Eliot had looked bad. Didn't matter what the nurse said, they were trained to say that sort of thing. Keep everyone calm and quiet.
He resented the hell out of it, and on any other day, he would have been most vocal in his disagreement, but.
Eliot looked bad. Asleep or comatose or who knows, he was lying on the other side of the curtain, on his back with tubes coming out of his face.
He'd been totally still, and laid out like he was rehearsing for his funeral.
Alec wanted to call out, get his attention, get him talking and alive again. But if things were half as bad as they'd looked, well.
He could shut the hell up for once in his life.
He lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, already impatient.
He needed to get out of here. Somewhere he didn't need to worry about the sound of his own breathing, somewhere with a connection.
The guard got away, had made it a good distance by the time they were pulling out.
And there was the small matter explosion large enough to shatter glass. It would probably make the news. Gonna have to get on that. Start tracking the photographs, too.
And there's the sniper.
He needed to get back to work. Needed information, needed to know what was coming down the line. Needed to do something other sit there in depressing silence straining to hear Eliot's breathing.
He still had his watch on, and it had been twenty minutes since the nurse had left. He could get up, if he wanted to. Peek around the curtain, even if it only served to confirm things he didn't want to know.
He needs to sleep. He doesn't need you buggin' him. Man up and shut up.
Minutes later, there was still no sign of the nurse, no doctor coming through. If Eliot started fading out, there'd be no one there to stop it.
For all Alec knew, Eliot could have been dying in his sleep, quiet, and leaving no one the wiser.
He wasn't surprised when his feet found the floor, but he was pleased to see that the dizziness had passed, and with it, the nausea.
Careful to tread lightly, he edged around the curtain, watching Eliot for signs of waking, and forcing himself to take stock.
Alec wondered briefly if hospital gowns were designed to make even the healthiest wearer look like they were at death's door.
The arm on Eliot's far side was bound, and looked like it had been set. The gown left most of his other arm bare, revealing skin that had been cleaned, as well as a bandage around his elbow. There was an injury there he hadn't seen before. Could've been a scrape, could have been twenty infected stitches, for all Alec knew.
Could have been avoided.
Working his way up, trying not to notice the oxygen tube lying across Eliot's face- that's good, though, right? If it was bad, he'd have one of those plastic masks over half his face. The swelling around his eye had gone down quite a bit, but the shadows and bruising were as apparent as before.
And through it all, Eliot was as still as the dead. And apparently his sixth sense, the one that told him that someone was about to come around the corner swinging a lead pipe, or that Parker was trying to make a grab for his glasses again, was no longer working.
Hardison wasn't sure how long he stood there, arms crossed at the foot of Eliot's bed, just staring.
---
Chapter 9
By: Jendavis
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Alec's head bounced against something, hard. Maybe the back of the seat, maybe the frame, he couldn't be sure, but it hurt like a bitch.
Outside, rubble was still falling as the van continued to rock, shaken by the explosion. Each shudder sent more glass loose from its frame, sending it raining down over the front seats.
Parker had blood running down the side of her face, as she unclenched her eyes and turned to check on Alec. Alec found himself mirroring her movements, feeling his face gingerly, careful not to cut himself on the razor sharp splinters.
As far as he could tell, she'd borne the brunt of it.
"Parker?!"
"I'm fine," Parker shook her head, scowling. "It's nothing. You?"
Still shaking his head, trying to clear it, he decided, "I'm all right. Eliot?" He twisted, trying to see back into the swimming darkness of the van and getting no response. "Eliot!" Gotta check on him.
With a final look through the nonexistent windshield and almost as an afterthought, he tried to search out the sniper, but there was no one on the roof. The guard was already halfway across the parking lot, destination unknown.
Probably scared off by the explosion, or at least by the attention it's going to bring. It was as safe as it was liable to get. Doesn't mean he went far.
"Wait here," he told Parker. "Keep a lookout." His body ached as he opened the door, and he nearly fell to the ground. He felt himself starting to weave. It's just the adrenaline wearing off. Too many muscles relaxing all at once. Coughing as he used the van as leverage, he eased around to the side and slid the door open.
Eliot was still lying there, curled in on himself, one arm over his head, like he was waiting for the rest of the world to finish collapsing.
"Hey man," Alec crawled in beside him, glancing nervously up over the seat towards Parker. "You alright?" He reached out to brush over Eliot's shoulder, a move that any other day probably would have landed in the emergency room.
Ain't like we're not on our way there anyhow.
He ran his palm carefully down to Eliot's elbow, feeling the warm breath at his fingertips as he passed near Eliot's face, just barely brushing against Eliot's matted beard. Under his arm, Eliot's head was rocking back and forth. He pulled his arm down, in towards his chest, but didn't shake off Alec's hand. He tried, for a moment, to turn his head, but got as far as catching one glimpse of Alec before settling again. Speaking to the interior of the van, which had evidently provided better protection against the blast than the glass up front had, he rasped, "What happened?"
"There was an explosion-" Alec said, and he wasn't sure it was his words that caused Eliot to go so suddenly pale, but he hurried to continue. "Think the bomb was set off. Parker's a little cut up, but we're fine."
Eliot started to say something that sounded like "did," "dad," or "dead," but cut himself off with a cough. Just as well. Alec wasn't feeling too verbose himself at the moment, either.
His hand was still settled unnoticed in the crook of Eliot's arm. Got better things to be doin' than worrying about awkwardness. Focus, man. Squeezing gently, he pulled away as Parker's startled shout swung his head in her direction.
"We got incoming!"
Alec craned his neck to see through dizziness and the rear door's smoked windows, just in time to see the silver sedan pulling into the parking lot, aimed unerringly in their direction.
---
Lord, not now. Ain't got time for- Shit. What do we do?
There wasn't enough time to get up front and get the van moving before the car reached them, and anyway, it was blocking their exit.
You could always get out and run, his brain offered unhelpfully. If you don't have anything better to do.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he swung into the driver's seat, not quite carefully enough to avoid the glass Parker hadn't managed to sweep aside. He startled as a sharp pain announced itself in his palm. He didn't need to look down to see the glass stuck in it, and anyway, he could deal with that later. He could make himself deal with it later. They had to get out of here.
His foot was on the pedal, the keys in the ignition, and the van was actually starting.
He didn't bother to stop and appreciate the miracle, just started turning the wheel.
"Hardison!" Parker's shout stopped him before the sight of the car slamming to a stop three feet from the bumper did. He was too startled not to stomp on the brakes.
Over the hood, staring back at him as she edged the passenger side door open, was a panicked looking Sophie. On the other side of the sedan, the door was already slamming shut, Nate stalking hurriedly around towards the van.
He was asking "What the hell's going on?" even as Sophie started in with "Did you find him?"
He couldn't not laugh, even if he couldn't find the joke. It was Parker who answered.
"Eliot's in back, needs a doctor. We're fine. The bomb went off."
Sophie dove for the side door of the van as Nate stepped back to let her pass, glancing back towards the road, already thinking.
"Okay. We need to get out of here. Can Eliot sit up?"
"Mostly, I think. Not for long."
"Okay. You and him are riding in the back of the car. Sophie, you're driving. Parker-" he broke off, catching a clear look at her for the first time. "Your face."
"Just some scratches."
"There's a first aid kit in my pack," Alec said, stepping tiredly out of the van and truthfully, acutely aware of how glad he was that Nate was there to run things. That it wasn't all on him anymore.
Nate was nodding at Parker. "Grab it, then. You doing okay enough to help me ditch the van?" Parker nodded, rummaging to find what she needed before tossing Alec's pack to Nate, who transferred it to the car.
Turning back towards the van, Alec could see that it was taking a massive effort for Sophie not to react to what she was seeing. He could almost see the words trying to sort themselves out in her head.
He couldn't blame her for going so pale. He felt a lot like throwing up too.
Off in the distance, there were sirens.
Scrambling, he had to force himself to not just reach in and yank Eliot out onto the pavement. Instead, he slid in next to him, offering an arm where he could, something to clamber up against so he could swing his legs out of the van.
With Sophie there for him to lean on, Eliot managed to stand much easier than he'd done before, and made his own way to the car.
Nate already had the door open, and was watching him with keen concern, but Eliot didn't notice. Eliot hadn't looked at either of them since they'd arrived. Alec wondered what it meant.
Don't mean nothin' at all, and you got plenty of time to think on it on the road.
Shifting his legs to make room, he settled in next to Eliot, watching out the car window as Nate said something to Sophie that Alec didn't quite catch, understanding more when her hand went from her pocket to her ear, swiveling her comm. unit into place as she hurried around to the driver's side.
Alec wanted to say something to Nate, wanted to ask him something, but he was already slamming the door shut. As soon as Sophie was seated, the sedan turned, and the van slid from view.
---
If he sat up straight- and for a moment, there, he'd tried- his ribs would have started screaming again. It wasn't worth it, so for the time being, he let every turn the car made, every vibration coming up from the road, settle his body a little closer into Hardison's.
Hardison wasn't saying anything, it was probably killing him not to, but for now, Eliot figured, he'd let himself play the injured card. Long as anyone wasn't asking.
And besides. He was out of that place that wasn't even a place anymore, that was really, from what he'd been able to tell, just a pile of rubble. Still nowhere anyone wanted to be, but that space that he'd occupied had been filled in. Didn't exist anymore, even if he couldn't stop seeing it as he screwed his eyes shut a little bit tighter.
Now, though, he just pictured that space filling in, concrete and filing cabinets and rebar crushing in on him, against his ribs and stealing the air from his lungs so he couldn't call out, couldn't get Shauna's or Stella's or whoever's attention.
You don't need to. You're out. You're here.
He was dimly aware of the fact that he didn't know where here was, exactly, but if he wanted to figure that out, he'd have to open his eyes and ask.
And he'd probably find Hardison there, all too willing to tell him, looking down at him like he knew damned well how bad things were, like he knew every thought running through his head. Leaving him with nothing that wasn't his alone.
Like that's something new.
Hardison was solid against him, and didn't move away, and his skin, in the small spaces where Eliot's touched his, was warm.
His arm hurt like a bitch, and he knew he should move. He would, in a minute, but for now, the heat was worth it.
If anyone asked, Eliot was asleep. It wasn't too far from the truth, anyway.
---
"I'm not trying to be. You know. But shouldn't we be with them? It's not like we can't afford to pay for the damages on the van."
"We can't afford to have the damages traced back to the warehouse."
"Hardison could probably-"
"Hardison's probably got a concussion. He's dead on his feet and it's probably just hitting him now. No. What we're going to do is ditch the van somewhere, and grab a taxi back to the hospital. So. In the meantime. Tell me what happened."
"Um." Parker thought for a minute. "We got in, there was only one guard. I distracted him while Hardison went after Eliot," she said, following Nate's lead and shoving her comm. unit into place. Not bothering to see who else was on the line, she continued. "He spooked, and. Oh! He asked where you two were. Had a gun. Hardison came up and we took him out, tied him up. Got him out of there when he did, but he ran off. Eliot wasn't doing so good. Awake but not really there, but he was mostly moving on his own. Got him into the van, and were ready to get out of there when the building imploded."
"Did you see the detonator?"
"I don't know. You'll have to ask Hardison, but he didn't seem like he was expecting the bomb to go off while we were still there. Oh! And there was a sniper on the roof of the warehouse across the street. He could have had a remote detonator."
"A sniper?" Sophie's disbelief crackled loudly in their ears.
Nate turned off the main avenue as the fire truck crested the hill, speeding towards the warehouse. Glancing in the rearview, the police cars that followed had evidently made no note of the van. He sighed, a little more heavily than usual.
"Okay, so Sophie. What's the story when you get to the hospital?"
There was a murmuring in the background, evidently Hardison wasn't on the line. A moment later, Sophie answered.
"Agent Brakowski has been in deep cover for the past eleven months. Two weeks ago, he fell off our radar, and we sent Agent…" Sophie paused, before confirming, "Agent Harris in to recover him."
"Okay, good," Nate nodded, already going into spin mode, reciting their cover, giving Sophie her lines. "We recovered him from a tenement downtown, and apologize that we cannot share more details, as the investigation is ongoing. Might want to remember that any mention of their presence would not only blow the case he's put so much into, but it would attract the exact sort of attention that no hospital is built to handle. You've got the IDs you need?"
"Two undercover agents and a very stressed but otherwise beautiful section chief, coming up," Sophie tried to answer lightly. "Let me know when you two arrive at the hospital, and I'll step out to slip you your badges."
"Hardison's got covers for all of us?" Parker's question turned into a dry cough, but she waved away Nate's offered water bottle.
"Three full sets at least," Sophie replied, amusement showing through. "I'd give you the full rundown, but I'm just hitting traffic."
"Don't crash!" Parker coughed adamantly, this time accepting the water.
"Right. Well. Be there in a bit. How're the guys doing?"
Sophie didn't reply for a moment, and Parker swung her head, her face tight with worry at what the silence could mean.
"We're about five minutes out," Sophie sounded like she was trying to assure the entire universe, trying to set reality. "It's going to be fine."
---
By the time Sophie had turned out of the parking lot, Eliot had either gone unconscious or catatonic, Alec couldn't be sure. Not without turning to look.
And he didn't want to. If he saw Eliot fading out on him, dying on them, Alec wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from freaking the fuck out.
If Eliot was looking better, more aware, whatever, then one of them might have to start talking.
He just needed a minute.
Alec stared out the window, aware of little else besides motion and the dim realization that he had no idea where they were going, that the landmarks passing by probably meant something to someone, but not to him. Under all that was the strip of heat along his right arm, where Eliot's shoulder was pressing in, a bit too closely to be ignored.
Blinking out through the window, he realized that they were probably due for some rain.
Sophie was asking him questions, then, but mostly talking to Nate. If Alec could've found the energy to go into his pockets, he could have dug out one of the comm. units and gotten in on the action, but for once, he was willing to let the information pass by unheard and unknown.
For now, he'd just sit there, letting the vibrations from the road lull him into a stupor, and try to ignore the pounding in his head.
They pulled up to the emergency room entrance, and Sophie left the car running as she hurries inside. Alec was dimly aware that there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't figure out what it was, couldn't find the energy to try. The idea of moving made him sick. Dizzy. He still wanted to puke.
Chill.
In a few moments, they'd be inside. There would be the usual antiseptic smell and cold fluorescent lights shining over walls painted in neutral colors, a failing attempt to make the hallways seem healthy, alive and calm. There would be doctors, nurses, and a rush of questions while everything got sorted. There would be the usual tension at the back of his neck while he worried that they wouldn't buy the story, that he'd missed something while forging their identification. That he'd grabbed the wrong insurance cards.
For now, though, he sat next to Eliot and waited for Sophie to go start digging them out of the mess he'd made.
---
Alec tried to wave off the nurses and the doctor, tried to get their attention to where it needed to be- on Eliot! I'm fine- but he was outnumbered and outgunned, and they were leading him to a bed but not letting him lie down. Shining lights in his eyes, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm.
Blinded by the light, it was hard to see what they were doing, where they were taking Eliot.
The hands of some nurse named Rita were pushing and pulling and poking and prodding at him, and he wasn't sure that he didn't actually try to swat her off. He wasn't sure of much at the moment, other than how tired he was. He was only dimly aware of Sophie's voice, talking to someone about medical records. She said something about security and a private recovery room.
In the background, there was a beeping, too slow to be counting down seconds, edging everything else out of his consciousness, and eventually, edging Alec out too.
---
It took him a few minutes, but Eliot could remember making it to the gurney, but then nothing. A blank space that went on too long, interspersed by brief flashes. Strange efficient hands. Footsteps in the hallway and muted voices talking fast.
He wasn't sure he'd been aware of them at the time, but he was coming out of it again.
The ground beneath him was too soft, the lights too bright and muted all at once.
But the cold was back.
They'd taken his clothes, the ones Hardison had brought him, and somewhere in the back of his head he'd had to know it was coming, but it didn't help buffer the shock and indignity of it all.
The hands were back, two sets this time. One set was shoving his arms this way and that, and the other was trailing a warm dampness that froze on his skin, and he wanted to tell them to stop, to leave him alone, but they were ignoring him. Or maybe they didn't notice.
The gray haired woman seemed to be talking about her daughter's karate classes. Or maybe a movie she'd seen, he couldn't be sure. Couldn't concentrate enough to find words, and he was too tired to be sure that his attempts to move, to get some distance, weren't just batted away without a glance.
He just wanted to be left alone, figure this out. Assess the situation and move on, but he couldn't think with all this going on.
When he rolled his head to the side, it felt like it never stopped moving, continuing down through the pillow, down and down.
They'd drugged him. They'd fucking drugged him.
They wanted to keep him weak, complacent. Keep him down and under control, and if-
Where's Hardison? Parker? If they-
There was a clattering out on the other side of the curtain, something falling to the floor, and he only really noticed it because one of the nurses jumped, dropping his arm, which wrenched as it fell to the mattress.
They're coming back, going to get you out, he thought, but then the younger one carefully picked his arm up again, resettling it at his side with a look on her face that looked like apology. Sympathy maybe.
It was all wrong. Didn't make sense. If he could just get clear-
You need to think. Use your fucking head. You're fine.
They had realized he was awake, and were smiling calmly down at him as the older one began to speak.
"Hello, Agent Brakowski. Good to see you're back, that is, if you're done fighting. We're just about done getting you cleaned up. We'll get some clothes on you again, and the doctor will be back to- don't touch that," she caught his hand en route to his face, where there was something touching his skin. "We've got you on oxygen as a precaution, okay?"
Dropping his hands, he nodded, too distracted to figure out why they were calling him Brakowski. He missed hearing his own.
But there was sense to be found, now. They were nurses. He was in a hospital. They got his name wrong, but who knew what the hell he'd told them when he arrived- he couldn't even remember getting there.
Warm cotton and a moving car. Back seat. Clouds moving in outside the window, and Hardison next to him as he tried to keep his eyes from searching out Sophie's in the rearview mirror.
---
Alec woke up to Parker's stare breaking into a tired grin that pulled at the bandages on her face. She looked like she was about to say something, but even then, Alec startled when her voice echoed in the hallway outside.
"Hey! Ah, guys? Harris is awake!"
Harris? Oh. Right.
Sophie's heels clicked across the floor as Nate followed in exhaustion.
"Ah. Hey guys," Alec waved, squinting them into focus. "How long was I out?"
"Not long," Nate looked to Sophie, who answered Alec's next question.
"They're moving Eliot into a recovery room any minute now, but they've already ducked out to tell us he's going to be fine. You got him out of there in time."
Alec's grin felt more tired than it should have been. "Age of the geek, baby." Sitting up was awkward, but he was relieved to find they hadn't changed him into some nightgown or something embarrassing like that.
For long moments, the four of them were left floundering for something to say. It lasted until Parker, all adrenaline worn off, yawned heavily.
"Let's get you to the hotel," Sophie said, hand resting on Parker's arm. "Nate's already made reservations for the three of us."
"Three of us?" Alec could feel the panic welling up, and already his head was beginning to throb again as worst-case scenarios played out. A thousand different doctors walking into the room, gripping clipboards with trained seriousness. "We've found something…"
"I feel fine. Ain't no reason to be leavin' me-"
"On the down side, you've got a concussion. On the up side, you'll be rooming with Eliot once they get him moved in. Easier for us to maintain security, see. The three of us will rotate. You're probably going to be released first thing in the morning."
"But."
"You really feel like moving more than fifty feet right now, you let me know," a voice said from the door, and Alec turned to see a woman pushing a wheelchair into the room. She was young, but something in her reminded him enough of Nana that the only response he could possibly make was no, ma'am.
Sitting absolutely still and on his best behavior, he watched Nate usher Parker and Sophie out of the room and half-listened to him explain that he'd be back in half an hour.
That's something, at least. He wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of having them watch him being wheeled out in the chair.
He wasn't counting on Sophie waiting in the hallway outside. Leaning in close, she whispered, "We'll be back soon. Keep an eye on him," before kissing him on the temple.
He pulled a face, pretended like it wasn't making him feel any better, because there was only so much humiliation a man could take.
The nurse, though. She just laughed.
---
Eliot was starting to doze off again, still thinking about the doctor's words.
"Stay in bed…between the dehydration and malnutrition…rest…renal function, hopefully you won't need dialysis but we're going to be monitoring it 'round the clock…but if the pain gets worse, we can up your dosage…"
The usual, then.
In another few hours, he'd start fighting it, probably. Go find the others, who were probably nearby.
Or maybe closer, judging by the racket coming in through the door. Hardison.
"I can walk, you know. It's my head that got hit. Ain't like some shark came along and bit my legs off."
"That would be impressive, though," a woman's voice replied in a stage whisper. "Concussions, I've seen plenty. Just hang on…get you situated here. Okay, Mister FBI, up!"
Eliot swallowed, rolling his head slightly to look at the door, seeing only the curtain shifting to the side.
"A'ight, see? I'm fine."
"Then you're well enough to keep it down, aren't you? Agent Brakowski needs to rest, so you need to stay quiet. I can sedate you if need be."
"That a good idea with a head injury?"
"You passed out when we drew blood earlier, and you're still here, so I'm not too worried."
"I am so going to call the American Medical Association when I get out of here."
"Let's get you out of here, first, and I'll give you the number myself. Now hush. I'll be back in a bit to check on you. If you're good, I'll even bring you a magazine. I think we've got enough copies of Highlights to keep you entertained for hours."
"Great." There was a pause, then, and Eliot had to strain to hear what came next. "Um. Hey. Is he. Ah. Can I see him?"
The nurse must have acquiesced, because the curtain was beginning to move, though Eliot slid his eyes shut before it opened completely.
"He looks…"
Eliot listened hard, needing to hear, needing to know, but for once, Hardison fell quiet and stayed there.
That's not good.
"He's resting," the nurse's tone was kind. "But he's going to be fine."
A few moments more, and she drew the curtain closed again, and Eliot allowed himself to breathe.
The nurse was talking again, her voice serious and quiet.
"You got him out of there. From what your boss said, you got everyone out. It went great."
A few moments later, and the door was closing again, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Eliot listened hard for a few moments, and wasn't even surprised when he heard it.
"Yeah. Great," Hardison muttered with a quiet snort.
Eliot wished he hadn't closed his eyes, wished he hadn't pretended to be asleep. Setting aside the entire notion that his first instinct had been to do what he could to hide, he was slowly catching onto something, here.
Visitors don't get put in hospital beds.
But Hardison had been talking, he was probably going to start in on some rambling dissertation about some inconsequential thing or another any minute now, and everything would start inching back towards normal. Eliot could lie here and listen, pretend they were in a hotel somewhere, out on a job, and that he only ached because the bouncer had turned out to have a black belt or three. Pretend to sleep as Hardison's voice washed over him like a blanket.
Any minute now.
---
Eliot had looked bad. Didn't matter what the nurse said, they were trained to say that sort of thing. Keep everyone calm and quiet.
He resented the hell out of it, and on any other day, he would have been most vocal in his disagreement, but.
Eliot looked bad. Asleep or comatose or who knows, he was lying on the other side of the curtain, on his back with tubes coming out of his face.
He'd been totally still, and laid out like he was rehearsing for his funeral.
Alec wanted to call out, get his attention, get him talking and alive again. But if things were half as bad as they'd looked, well.
He could shut the hell up for once in his life.
He lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, already impatient.
He needed to get out of here. Somewhere he didn't need to worry about the sound of his own breathing, somewhere with a connection.
The guard got away, had made it a good distance by the time they were pulling out.
And there was the small matter explosion large enough to shatter glass. It would probably make the news. Gonna have to get on that. Start tracking the photographs, too.
And there's the sniper.
He needed to get back to work. Needed information, needed to know what was coming down the line. Needed to do something other sit there in depressing silence straining to hear Eliot's breathing.
He still had his watch on, and it had been twenty minutes since the nurse had left. He could get up, if he wanted to. Peek around the curtain, even if it only served to confirm things he didn't want to know.
He needs to sleep. He doesn't need you buggin' him. Man up and shut up.
Minutes later, there was still no sign of the nurse, no doctor coming through. If Eliot started fading out, there'd be no one there to stop it.
For all Alec knew, Eliot could have been dying in his sleep, quiet, and leaving no one the wiser.
He wasn't surprised when his feet found the floor, but he was pleased to see that the dizziness had passed, and with it, the nausea.
Careful to tread lightly, he edged around the curtain, watching Eliot for signs of waking, and forcing himself to take stock.
Alec wondered briefly if hospital gowns were designed to make even the healthiest wearer look like they were at death's door.
The arm on Eliot's far side was bound, and looked like it had been set. The gown left most of his other arm bare, revealing skin that had been cleaned, as well as a bandage around his elbow. There was an injury there he hadn't seen before. Could've been a scrape, could have been twenty infected stitches, for all Alec knew.
Could have been avoided.
Working his way up, trying not to notice the oxygen tube lying across Eliot's face- that's good, though, right? If it was bad, he'd have one of those plastic masks over half his face. The swelling around his eye had gone down quite a bit, but the shadows and bruising were as apparent as before.
And through it all, Eliot was as still as the dead. And apparently his sixth sense, the one that told him that someone was about to come around the corner swinging a lead pipe, or that Parker was trying to make a grab for his glasses again, was no longer working.
Hardison wasn't sure how long he stood there, arms crossed at the foot of Eliot's bed, just staring.
---
Chapter 9