The Everlasting Chapter 4
Title: The Everlasting
Rating: PG-13 for now
Spoilers: Up through end of season 2
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Warnings: None for *this* chapter...
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Story starts here.
---
If it hadn't been too dark to see, Eliot might have wondered what he'd be missing. The way Alec's hair scratched against Eliot's temple. Jagged breaths as he whispered "Holy fuck, El. Holy shit," into his neck. How different he smelled, and just how cold his skin was.
"Hey," Eliot finally pulled back, slightly, because if somebody didn't start, there was no telling how long they were going to be in this limbo. Hey, man. It's cool."
Alec's laugh was rasping and bitter. "I just killed a dude, El."
"Yeah, kinda looks that way," Eliot nodded, trying to think. First one's the hardest, he nearly said. It was a truth he'd never wanted Alec , never wanted any of them to have to learn. He swallowed before trying again. "Thought it was you, there, for a second. That would have been really crappy timing, huh?"
"Yeah." If the lights had been on, Eliot would've been able to read his face, see if he really was answering from as far away as he sounded. "Happened a few feet behind you. Think you're standing in his blood."
Yeah, but it ain't yours. That's the point. "Wanna get out of here?"
Eliot could just make out the shake of his head. "I live upstairs," he said.
"Yeah. That's what I hear."
He followed Hardison out into the main room and to the left, grabbing his pack from where he'd left it on the counter. It wasn't until they were on the stairs that he started to feel drained, tired.
It wasn't until Alec turned a light on that the last of Eliot's bravado fled. He did what he could to cover for it, but when Alec turned to look at him, it was clear that he wasn't really seeing him, anyway.
---
He looked like he'd been through hell. Considering where they were both standing, maybe it was more that he was just meeting him halfway.
Alec had been focusing on Eliot's presence, or the lack thereof, so long and so hard that now, with Eliot standing three feet away, he had no idea what to do with himself. Eliot was here, following him up the stairs like he'd done so many times before, and Alec had killed a guy, and now he was supposed to show him around the place, or something. Give him the tour of the room and a half that he called his home, now.
Eliot's beard was redder than Alec would have expected, and the eyes that looked out over it were exhausted as they looked around the room in nearly hidden confusion. He looked wary, too.
Course they do. He's stuck in a room with a murderer.
Shut the fuck up.
"So, uh. Yeah. This is where I'm stayin', now," Alec sat down on a corner of the mattress he'd dragged up from across the alley, waving Eliot towards the chair. "Ain't much, but-"
"You've got power." Eliot was squinting at the lamp next to the bed like he'd never seen one before. At least not in a while.
"Yeah. Solar when the weather's holding. Built a generator out of an old exercise bike too, for when it's not. Car battery for emergencies, but…"
"Bicycle?" Eliot asked, then shook his head, removing his rain gear and finally sitting down. It wasn't what Alec wanted to be talking about, either. He just didn't know where to go from there.
"Yeah, so. Uh. It's good to see you, man," he said, cringing inwardly at how lame it sounded, but it needed to be said sooner, rather than later. "How've you been?"
"Me? Oh, I've been great," Eliot said, but then he smiled- or probably smiled, it was hard to tell with the beard, but his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and then Alec was laughing, too.
---
What the hell do you say in a situation like this?
If Sophie were here, maybe she'd have an answer. He almost said as much to Hardison, but it seemed like dangerous territory, talking about the others. Making assumptions that they were still alive. It already felt like every time he opened his mouth, he was running the risk of making things worse. And yeah, Alec was laughing, but it was grim, almost bitter. Manic, that's the word.
Alec shook his head and rose to his feet, going to the corner of the room, stepping up on a crate to slide one of the ceiling tiles to the side, and pulling down a bottle. At his instruction, Eliot twisted in his seat to retrieve two glasses from the steel filing cabinet.
He's got the whiskey inaccessible. Doesn't mean anything. Everyone's hiding their shit from everyone else, these days. It's not just alcoholics who do this, anymore. It makes sense. Doesn't mean anything. Bottle's new, anyway. Hasn't been opened. Just means that this bottle in particular hasn't been opened. But there aren't a bunch of others lying around, and he's not acting weird about it. And even if he was, well. The world just ended. And he killed a guy tonight. He's dealing. It's fine.
Alec came back with the bottle, shrugging. "I don't have anything to mix it with, here, unless you want room temperature coffee from this morning."
"That's cool," Eliot said, watching Alec pour two only slightly heavy rounds. It would have felt completely normal if there'd been ice in the glasses. Following Alec's lead, he downed it in one. Alec winced as it went down, sputtering a little, then shaking his head.
"Bleh," he said, but he poured two more rounds. This time, though, he didn't shoot it back. "Not really my scene, but…"
"Yeah." Eliot knew that. Alec hadn't ever really been the heavy drinking type, and apparently, he still wasn't. Maybe Alec really was okay. "Fucking crazy day, yeah?"
"Year," Alec shrugged, sitting back down and regarding him tiredly. "So. Seriously? I'm a little..." he waved fingers in the general vicinity of his head.
Eliot nodded, looking instead at the poster tacked to the door. Rows and rows of stamps. He wondered why Alec had left it there, it was ugly as hell. "Me too."
---
The whiskey helped, a little bit, with the panic. It wasn't that he was freaking out, now, it was just happening in slower waves. He could keep up with it, pretend he was still afloat, that Eliot's presence wasn't making his brain spin out in fifty different directions.
Lots of people been killed. Self defense. You had to.
Eliot's looking for exits. He's here, seen what you've done, and he's just gonna leave again. You have to keep him here. Get him to stay, for a while, talk.
You still have blood on your shirt.
You don't even know what he's been up to, where he's been. You don't know anything anymore.
The trash bin is still out at the dump. You might need it, later. It's just gonna fill with rain, weather like this.
Alec swallowed more whiskey, but the burn wasn't as bad as it had been, before. He took a breath, which Eliot must have heard, because he turned his exhausted eyes back in Alec's direction, waiting. And Alec Hardison was the biggest idiot in the world, right now.
"Shit," he said. "Sorry, man. Uh, when did you get into town?"
"This morning."
"You eaten since?"
"Yeah. Got some food, if you're hungry." Eliot pushed himself up, reaching over the side of his chair for his pack.
"Nah, I'm good, was just checkin' on you." As long as you keep talking, he'll stay. "Alright," he decided. "What I propose is this. I have got to wash off tonight's nastiness. No showers, and since we've had a blackout for the past two weeks and the sun hasn't been out for three days, there's probably no heating it right now, but the water still runs and there's soap and stuff if you need to clean up. After that, we crash the hell out, unless you got somewhere else you've got staked out that's less than a million miles away, and we take this up in the morning. With coffee."
"Awesome," Eliot grinned, sipping at his drink.
"Cool," Alec said, rising to his feet and heading towards one of the other filing cabinets, taking out some fresh clothes. "Hang out here, I'll be right back, feel free to look around or whatever."
"Right on," Eliot said, but didn't move from his seat.
---
The bathroom light was starting to fade, it would be out of juice, soon. Even so, the sight of himself in the mirror was too harsh. He tried not to look, just stripped down and averted his eyes as the washcloth soaked in the sink.
His clothes were a wash, but the boots were salvageable. The blood was dried, now, and it had gotten places that Alec hadn't expected, soaking through to his skin in thin smeared swaths.
Bracing himself against the cold, he grabbed the soap and the rag, and started to scrub.
---
Eliot was curious, but he was too tired to make any real investigation of Alec's room. And that wasn't all of it, because for all of the remnants of its previous life as an office- the filing cabinets, the big desk pushed to the corner, the pile of office supplies in the corner on the other side of the mattress- it was clearly Hardison's home, now, and Eliot was an intruder.
If he'd shown up earlier, things would've been different. If he hadn't fucked around so much getting through Connecticut, if he'd managed to shave a day off the trip, he could've been here in time, before Hardison had been backed into that corner.
If he'd arrived this morning, it might've been avoided. Might have been better. Or maybe it would've been better if he hadn't arrived at all. Hardison had set himself up fairly well, here. He was alive and, as much as it was throwing him, had been able and willing to defend himself. He had shelter, hell, he had lights and didn't need any of Eliot's food.
The one thing Eliot could've saved him from, he'd been too late. And now he was sitting here, finishing off his whiskey and waiting while Alec was washing the blood off of his hands so he could continue catering to his uninvited guest.
You fucked up. Spent all that time thinking about finding him that you didn't think about what you'd do when it happened. You didn't expect any of this. He doesn't need you. Might not even want you here, not really.
Eliot's first kill had been in a war that had made sense, and he hadn't been the only one to do so, that day. He'd had people fighting next to him, and they'd all been in the same battle, known the same score.
Since then, he'd fought several battles, but he hadn't been there for Alec's. Hadn't been there for any of them.
If he had any indication of who Hardison was, now, what had and what hadn't changed, he'd know for sure what Alec needed. If his instructions to hang out here were orders that should be obeyed, or not.
The lamp was starting to flicker, just a little bit, running out of power. Eliot glared at it in annoyed sympathy, scratching at his beard and wondering if this really was the extent of the world Alec had meant to build for himself.
Dragging himself up to his feet, he heard a creak in the hall, and wasn't as relieved as he would've liked to be to find that it was Alec who stepped through the door.
---
"A'ight. Got a toothbrush down for you, and there's a stack of clean towels and washrags on the shelf. Razors too. Help yourself to whatever you want, just down the hall. I'm guessing the light'll hold out for another fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Razors? Thanks, man," Eliot said, feeling his muscles protest as he reached down for his pack.
He made his way to the bathroom, turning the faucet on and glaring at his face in the mirror.
As soon as he had the energy for it, this beard was gone.
He wasn't expecting to hear the knock on the door, he hadn't even heard footsteps, but it was immediately followed by Hardison's voice.
"Hey, Eliot. Uh. Didn't think to ask, before, but there's clean sweats and stuff if you want 'em."
Eliot glanced down at his pack, at the admittedly filthy-if still functional- changes of clothes within, and snorted. Opening the door, he found Alec standing there with a pile of folded cotton in his arms.
"Awesome. Thanks, man."
"No problem, Alec smirked tiredly, and headed back down the hall.
It was only five minutes later, as he was getting dressed, that Eliot realized that the worn sweatshirt on the top of the pile was the same one he'd left in his drawer, seven and a half months ago.
---
Alec was already in the bed when Eliot returned, sitting up, but the light was still on.
"Hey," Eliot set his pack down, deciding that this could only be as awkward as he wanted it to be, and lay down next to him.
"Hey," Alec said. "You're keeping the beard?"
"Too tired to mess with it," Eliot answered, momentarily disappointed as Alec turned off the light. It wasn't like he was afraid of the dark, but the novelty of being able to see after dark without having one hand on the flashlight hadn't yet worn off.
He shifted over, a little, to give Alec enough room to lie down. If it weren't for the slight dip of the mattress, Alec might not have been there at all.
---
Eliot was a statue lying on the other half of the bed, probably already asleep, while Alec stared at the ceiling, in turn making apologies to Nana, or whoever, for what he'd done, and resisting the urge to reach out, touch Eliot again, prove him real.
And Eliot's voice, when it eventually came, hoarse and quiet in the dark, didn't verify his existence.
"About what happened. Before. When I left."
"It's cool, man. No reason to rehash all that."
"Yeah, but. Just had to tell you I'm sorry. For leavin' like I did. Wasn't supposed to take this long to get back."
"What? Okay. Well, uh. You're forgiven," Alec replied, eyes open and seeing nothing, really, but there merest hints of the edge of the lampshade, maybe the corner of the room.
Who the hell am I to forgive anything right now?
But it was an opening, and here, now, maybe, this was all starting to make some sort of sense. Enough that he could risk asking, "Where you been?"
"Everywhere between here and Mexico. Got here as soon as I could." Alec nodded at that, and was just becoming aware that Eliot probably didn't see, when he heard the drag of moving fabric and felt Eliot's hand grasping at his sleeve. "Last I heard, Nate and Sophie were safe, so I have to ask. You seen Parker?"
They're alive, Alec blinked as he felt something like himself coming back. "Yeah, she's fine. We can go to her place in the morning, if you want."
"That's." If he hadn't turned the light off, he'd probably be able to see the laughter he was hearing. "That would be great."
"Uh huh," was a stupid response, because there was nowhere to go from there but silent. Again, though, Eliot saved them both with another tug on his sleeve.
"You doin' alright?"
"I. Yeah. It's just. Fucked. Like. Been hoping you'd show up, or we'd hear from you or something, get word." Alec took a breath. "Shit, man. Don't really know how to switch over into playin' host-with-the-most, y'know? I keep…Yeah. Don't even know where to start. So. Sorry about all this."
"Don't got anything to apologize for," Eliot said. "Know it still sucks, and it's gonna mess with you for a while. But for what it's worth, you're doin' fine," Eliot said.
"Yeah?" Alec cringed against the sound of his own voice, hating how needy and hopeful it sounded.
"I've been there. I know." For moment, it felt like Eliot was about to pull away, but he was just shifting, moving incrementally closer. "Just sorry I didn't get there in time to back you up."
"Me too," Alec agreed, experimentally bringing his hand up to rest on Eliot's arm.
A few minutes later, somebody moved first to meet the other halfway, and nobody moved for the rest of the night.
---
Chapter 5
Rating: PG-13 for now
Spoilers: Up through end of season 2
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Warnings: None for *this* chapter...
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Story starts here.
---
If it hadn't been too dark to see, Eliot might have wondered what he'd be missing. The way Alec's hair scratched against Eliot's temple. Jagged breaths as he whispered "Holy fuck, El. Holy shit," into his neck. How different he smelled, and just how cold his skin was.
"Hey," Eliot finally pulled back, slightly, because if somebody didn't start, there was no telling how long they were going to be in this limbo. Hey, man. It's cool."
Alec's laugh was rasping and bitter. "I just killed a dude, El."
"Yeah, kinda looks that way," Eliot nodded, trying to think. First one's the hardest, he nearly said. It was a truth he'd never wanted Alec , never wanted any of them to have to learn. He swallowed before trying again. "Thought it was you, there, for a second. That would have been really crappy timing, huh?"
"Yeah." If the lights had been on, Eliot would've been able to read his face, see if he really was answering from as far away as he sounded. "Happened a few feet behind you. Think you're standing in his blood."
Yeah, but it ain't yours. That's the point. "Wanna get out of here?"
Eliot could just make out the shake of his head. "I live upstairs," he said.
"Yeah. That's what I hear."
He followed Hardison out into the main room and to the left, grabbing his pack from where he'd left it on the counter. It wasn't until they were on the stairs that he started to feel drained, tired.
It wasn't until Alec turned a light on that the last of Eliot's bravado fled. He did what he could to cover for it, but when Alec turned to look at him, it was clear that he wasn't really seeing him, anyway.
---
He looked like he'd been through hell. Considering where they were both standing, maybe it was more that he was just meeting him halfway.
Alec had been focusing on Eliot's presence, or the lack thereof, so long and so hard that now, with Eliot standing three feet away, he had no idea what to do with himself. Eliot was here, following him up the stairs like he'd done so many times before, and Alec had killed a guy, and now he was supposed to show him around the place, or something. Give him the tour of the room and a half that he called his home, now.
Eliot's beard was redder than Alec would have expected, and the eyes that looked out over it were exhausted as they looked around the room in nearly hidden confusion. He looked wary, too.
Course they do. He's stuck in a room with a murderer.
Shut the fuck up.
"So, uh. Yeah. This is where I'm stayin', now," Alec sat down on a corner of the mattress he'd dragged up from across the alley, waving Eliot towards the chair. "Ain't much, but-"
"You've got power." Eliot was squinting at the lamp next to the bed like he'd never seen one before. At least not in a while.
"Yeah. Solar when the weather's holding. Built a generator out of an old exercise bike too, for when it's not. Car battery for emergencies, but…"
"Bicycle?" Eliot asked, then shook his head, removing his rain gear and finally sitting down. It wasn't what Alec wanted to be talking about, either. He just didn't know where to go from there.
"Yeah, so. Uh. It's good to see you, man," he said, cringing inwardly at how lame it sounded, but it needed to be said sooner, rather than later. "How've you been?"
"Me? Oh, I've been great," Eliot said, but then he smiled- or probably smiled, it was hard to tell with the beard, but his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and then Alec was laughing, too.
---
What the hell do you say in a situation like this?
If Sophie were here, maybe she'd have an answer. He almost said as much to Hardison, but it seemed like dangerous territory, talking about the others. Making assumptions that they were still alive. It already felt like every time he opened his mouth, he was running the risk of making things worse. And yeah, Alec was laughing, but it was grim, almost bitter. Manic, that's the word.
Alec shook his head and rose to his feet, going to the corner of the room, stepping up on a crate to slide one of the ceiling tiles to the side, and pulling down a bottle. At his instruction, Eliot twisted in his seat to retrieve two glasses from the steel filing cabinet.
He's got the whiskey inaccessible. Doesn't mean anything. Everyone's hiding their shit from everyone else, these days. It's not just alcoholics who do this, anymore. It makes sense. Doesn't mean anything. Bottle's new, anyway. Hasn't been opened. Just means that this bottle in particular hasn't been opened. But there aren't a bunch of others lying around, and he's not acting weird about it. And even if he was, well. The world just ended. And he killed a guy tonight. He's dealing. It's fine.
Alec came back with the bottle, shrugging. "I don't have anything to mix it with, here, unless you want room temperature coffee from this morning."
"That's cool," Eliot said, watching Alec pour two only slightly heavy rounds. It would have felt completely normal if there'd been ice in the glasses. Following Alec's lead, he downed it in one. Alec winced as it went down, sputtering a little, then shaking his head.
"Bleh," he said, but he poured two more rounds. This time, though, he didn't shoot it back. "Not really my scene, but…"
"Yeah." Eliot knew that. Alec hadn't ever really been the heavy drinking type, and apparently, he still wasn't. Maybe Alec really was okay. "Fucking crazy day, yeah?"
"Year," Alec shrugged, sitting back down and regarding him tiredly. "So. Seriously? I'm a little..." he waved fingers in the general vicinity of his head.
Eliot nodded, looking instead at the poster tacked to the door. Rows and rows of stamps. He wondered why Alec had left it there, it was ugly as hell. "Me too."
---
The whiskey helped, a little bit, with the panic. It wasn't that he was freaking out, now, it was just happening in slower waves. He could keep up with it, pretend he was still afloat, that Eliot's presence wasn't making his brain spin out in fifty different directions.
Lots of people been killed. Self defense. You had to.
Eliot's looking for exits. He's here, seen what you've done, and he's just gonna leave again. You have to keep him here. Get him to stay, for a while, talk.
You still have blood on your shirt.
You don't even know what he's been up to, where he's been. You don't know anything anymore.
The trash bin is still out at the dump. You might need it, later. It's just gonna fill with rain, weather like this.
Alec swallowed more whiskey, but the burn wasn't as bad as it had been, before. He took a breath, which Eliot must have heard, because he turned his exhausted eyes back in Alec's direction, waiting. And Alec Hardison was the biggest idiot in the world, right now.
"Shit," he said. "Sorry, man. Uh, when did you get into town?"
"This morning."
"You eaten since?"
"Yeah. Got some food, if you're hungry." Eliot pushed himself up, reaching over the side of his chair for his pack.
"Nah, I'm good, was just checkin' on you." As long as you keep talking, he'll stay. "Alright," he decided. "What I propose is this. I have got to wash off tonight's nastiness. No showers, and since we've had a blackout for the past two weeks and the sun hasn't been out for three days, there's probably no heating it right now, but the water still runs and there's soap and stuff if you need to clean up. After that, we crash the hell out, unless you got somewhere else you've got staked out that's less than a million miles away, and we take this up in the morning. With coffee."
"Awesome," Eliot grinned, sipping at his drink.
"Cool," Alec said, rising to his feet and heading towards one of the other filing cabinets, taking out some fresh clothes. "Hang out here, I'll be right back, feel free to look around or whatever."
"Right on," Eliot said, but didn't move from his seat.
---
The bathroom light was starting to fade, it would be out of juice, soon. Even so, the sight of himself in the mirror was too harsh. He tried not to look, just stripped down and averted his eyes as the washcloth soaked in the sink.
His clothes were a wash, but the boots were salvageable. The blood was dried, now, and it had gotten places that Alec hadn't expected, soaking through to his skin in thin smeared swaths.
Bracing himself against the cold, he grabbed the soap and the rag, and started to scrub.
---
Eliot was curious, but he was too tired to make any real investigation of Alec's room. And that wasn't all of it, because for all of the remnants of its previous life as an office- the filing cabinets, the big desk pushed to the corner, the pile of office supplies in the corner on the other side of the mattress- it was clearly Hardison's home, now, and Eliot was an intruder.
If he'd shown up earlier, things would've been different. If he hadn't fucked around so much getting through Connecticut, if he'd managed to shave a day off the trip, he could've been here in time, before Hardison had been backed into that corner.
If he'd arrived this morning, it might've been avoided. Might have been better. Or maybe it would've been better if he hadn't arrived at all. Hardison had set himself up fairly well, here. He was alive and, as much as it was throwing him, had been able and willing to defend himself. He had shelter, hell, he had lights and didn't need any of Eliot's food.
The one thing Eliot could've saved him from, he'd been too late. And now he was sitting here, finishing off his whiskey and waiting while Alec was washing the blood off of his hands so he could continue catering to his uninvited guest.
You fucked up. Spent all that time thinking about finding him that you didn't think about what you'd do when it happened. You didn't expect any of this. He doesn't need you. Might not even want you here, not really.
Eliot's first kill had been in a war that had made sense, and he hadn't been the only one to do so, that day. He'd had people fighting next to him, and they'd all been in the same battle, known the same score.
Since then, he'd fought several battles, but he hadn't been there for Alec's. Hadn't been there for any of them.
If he had any indication of who Hardison was, now, what had and what hadn't changed, he'd know for sure what Alec needed. If his instructions to hang out here were orders that should be obeyed, or not.
The lamp was starting to flicker, just a little bit, running out of power. Eliot glared at it in annoyed sympathy, scratching at his beard and wondering if this really was the extent of the world Alec had meant to build for himself.
Dragging himself up to his feet, he heard a creak in the hall, and wasn't as relieved as he would've liked to be to find that it was Alec who stepped through the door.
---
"A'ight. Got a toothbrush down for you, and there's a stack of clean towels and washrags on the shelf. Razors too. Help yourself to whatever you want, just down the hall. I'm guessing the light'll hold out for another fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Razors? Thanks, man," Eliot said, feeling his muscles protest as he reached down for his pack.
He made his way to the bathroom, turning the faucet on and glaring at his face in the mirror.
As soon as he had the energy for it, this beard was gone.
He wasn't expecting to hear the knock on the door, he hadn't even heard footsteps, but it was immediately followed by Hardison's voice.
"Hey, Eliot. Uh. Didn't think to ask, before, but there's clean sweats and stuff if you want 'em."
Eliot glanced down at his pack, at the admittedly filthy-if still functional- changes of clothes within, and snorted. Opening the door, he found Alec standing there with a pile of folded cotton in his arms.
"Awesome. Thanks, man."
"No problem, Alec smirked tiredly, and headed back down the hall.
It was only five minutes later, as he was getting dressed, that Eliot realized that the worn sweatshirt on the top of the pile was the same one he'd left in his drawer, seven and a half months ago.
---
Alec was already in the bed when Eliot returned, sitting up, but the light was still on.
"Hey," Eliot set his pack down, deciding that this could only be as awkward as he wanted it to be, and lay down next to him.
"Hey," Alec said. "You're keeping the beard?"
"Too tired to mess with it," Eliot answered, momentarily disappointed as Alec turned off the light. It wasn't like he was afraid of the dark, but the novelty of being able to see after dark without having one hand on the flashlight hadn't yet worn off.
He shifted over, a little, to give Alec enough room to lie down. If it weren't for the slight dip of the mattress, Alec might not have been there at all.
---
Eliot was a statue lying on the other half of the bed, probably already asleep, while Alec stared at the ceiling, in turn making apologies to Nana, or whoever, for what he'd done, and resisting the urge to reach out, touch Eliot again, prove him real.
And Eliot's voice, when it eventually came, hoarse and quiet in the dark, didn't verify his existence.
"About what happened. Before. When I left."
"It's cool, man. No reason to rehash all that."
"Yeah, but. Just had to tell you I'm sorry. For leavin' like I did. Wasn't supposed to take this long to get back."
"What? Okay. Well, uh. You're forgiven," Alec replied, eyes open and seeing nothing, really, but there merest hints of the edge of the lampshade, maybe the corner of the room.
Who the hell am I to forgive anything right now?
But it was an opening, and here, now, maybe, this was all starting to make some sort of sense. Enough that he could risk asking, "Where you been?"
"Everywhere between here and Mexico. Got here as soon as I could." Alec nodded at that, and was just becoming aware that Eliot probably didn't see, when he heard the drag of moving fabric and felt Eliot's hand grasping at his sleeve. "Last I heard, Nate and Sophie were safe, so I have to ask. You seen Parker?"
They're alive, Alec blinked as he felt something like himself coming back. "Yeah, she's fine. We can go to her place in the morning, if you want."
"That's." If he hadn't turned the light off, he'd probably be able to see the laughter he was hearing. "That would be great."
"Uh huh," was a stupid response, because there was nowhere to go from there but silent. Again, though, Eliot saved them both with another tug on his sleeve.
"You doin' alright?"
"I. Yeah. It's just. Fucked. Like. Been hoping you'd show up, or we'd hear from you or something, get word." Alec took a breath. "Shit, man. Don't really know how to switch over into playin' host-with-the-most, y'know? I keep…Yeah. Don't even know where to start. So. Sorry about all this."
"Don't got anything to apologize for," Eliot said. "Know it still sucks, and it's gonna mess with you for a while. But for what it's worth, you're doin' fine," Eliot said.
"Yeah?" Alec cringed against the sound of his own voice, hating how needy and hopeful it sounded.
"I've been there. I know." For moment, it felt like Eliot was about to pull away, but he was just shifting, moving incrementally closer. "Just sorry I didn't get there in time to back you up."
"Me too," Alec agreed, experimentally bringing his hand up to rest on Eliot's arm.
A few minutes later, somebody moved first to meet the other halfway, and nobody moved for the rest of the night.
---
Chapter 5