Fic: Battle Fatigue
Fic: Battle Fatigue
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Two Horse Job, in that if you don't know the characters involved some of this might not make sense.
Warnings: Not much really
AN: Overlong Comment Fic for ziplockeddaze, who prompted "Leverage, Eliot (+team), battle fatigue". I'm strongly considering writing the previous part as well. Let me know what you think.
-
Nate was starting to get used to the constant invasion of his space, so he wasn't altogether surprised to get home after a job and find that Eliot had beaten him there, slobbed out in front of *his* damned TV, some colourful sports team parading around on the oversized screens.
Nate waited long enough to decide that Eliot wasn't planning on making him dinner in exchange for his hospitality and went out to get steak from the restaurant across the street. Eliot was still there when he came back, but the TV wasn't on loud so Nate just let him be, and went to bed.
They were all there in the morning and the TV had been changed to some daytime drama that was being mostly ignored by everyone, as Sophie and Parker debated the moral high ground in stealing over-pampered animals from owners and Hardison sat tapping away on his computer like he didn't have anywhere else to go to do... whatever it was he was doing.
It wasn't until Parker and Sophie headed into the kitchen in that absent way that suggested they were about to eat him out of house and home that Nate realised Eliot was wearing the same clothes as he had been yesterday and was still staring at the screen with that same blank look.
Nate stayed out of reach, standing directly between Eliot and the screen and trying to remember if Eliot had hit his head in the last job. Or, more reasonably, if anyone had hit Eliot in the head. Nothing came to mind, but Eliot didn't seem to have noticed that he wasn't staring at a screen any more, but Nate's chest. Now that he was looking, actually looking, Nate could see the fine trembling in Eliot's hands. Hardison glanced up, noticing the tension in Nate. He looked between Eliot and Nate, frowning at Eliot's expression.
"Y' alright, man?" he asked, reaching out to wave a hand in front of Eliot's face. Nate caught his hand, shaking his head.
"Eliot, look at me." Nate said in his most authoritarian voice. Slowly, Eliot looked up. Nate shuddered. While Eliot's eyes were sharp and focused on him, it was like there was no one inside, no emotion showing on his face. Nate looked away and found Parker and Sophie standing behind the sofa staring curiously.
"Sophie, phone a doctor. Hardison, pull out an ID with health insurance. Parker, sit with Eliot until I get back. Don't touch him, stay out of reach." Nate met each gaze seriously, made sure everyone know what they needed to do, then he walked into the other room and pulled out the organiser of contacts they were slowly building up. He opened it to Willy Martin's details and picked up the phone.
-
The doctor didn't say anything they didn't already know. He pointed out the service record (as close as Hardison could get it based on rumours and the tiny amounts of information Eliot had shared with them) and cited battle fatigue.
Sometimes it could happen, a relapse, he told them, in threatening situations, or if the victim hears something which reminds them of their service and the situations surrounding that service.
Nate didn't tell him that Eliot had fought fight after fight over the last week, and the goon with the semi-automatic who'd tried to gun Parker down probably hadn't helped, not to mention the jobs Eliot was taking on the side. One of those things had taken Eliot back to things he couldn't handle, experiences no one should have to face.
Sophie was still berating herself for not seeing the signs, the anger and sharp tone, days of headaches. But Nate had a heavier weight to bear. He had been forewarned.
Willy had given him a list of things over the phone that had worked the first time around. Most of them involved the words quiet, slow, still. Then he'd berated Nate for not making Eliot rest, for letting him take side jobs into combat zones and then making him fight when he got back home. Nate took it all. When he was done, Willy had demanded Nate make the boy phone him when he was feeling better and slammed the phone down.
-
The lights in Nate's apartment were dimmed and everyone was sitting in the lounge with Eliot, subdued but settled. Alec had his laptop, Parker was on the floor at Eliot's feet sorting through diamonds on a cloth, Sophie had a script, occasionally muttering the words aloud to herself, and Nate had his oft-ignored book.
All four sentinels froze as Eliot sat forwards, ran his hands through his hair and scowled at the grimy feeling. Saying nothing, Eliot stood unsteadily and stepped over Parker, wandering past Sophie and up the stairs at the back of Nate's apartment. They stared, breathless as Eliot disappeared onto the second floor, breathing again at the sound of the shower running.
Nate scowled. "When are you all going to stop treating my house like a hotel?" he asked.
It was enough. No eye-contact, not yet, and he still trembled in every part of himself when he reappeared moments later, hair and T-shirt wet but not much cleaner. But it was enough.
He took his seat again, and Sophie moved just a little closer, Parker's back now pressed against his leg as she pretended she hadn't even noticed him moving, focused entirely on her diamonds. He looked around himself, blinking lazy-slow at them.
"Thanks." he rasped.
Nate smiled, cheering internally.
"Any time."
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Two Horse Job, in that if you don't know the characters involved some of this might not make sense.
Warnings: Not much really
AN: Overlong Comment Fic for ziplockeddaze, who prompted "Leverage, Eliot (+team), battle fatigue". I'm strongly considering writing the previous part as well. Let me know what you think.
-
Nate was starting to get used to the constant invasion of his space, so he wasn't altogether surprised to get home after a job and find that Eliot had beaten him there, slobbed out in front of *his* damned TV, some colourful sports team parading around on the oversized screens.
Nate waited long enough to decide that Eliot wasn't planning on making him dinner in exchange for his hospitality and went out to get steak from the restaurant across the street. Eliot was still there when he came back, but the TV wasn't on loud so Nate just let him be, and went to bed.
They were all there in the morning and the TV had been changed to some daytime drama that was being mostly ignored by everyone, as Sophie and Parker debated the moral high ground in stealing over-pampered animals from owners and Hardison sat tapping away on his computer like he didn't have anywhere else to go to do... whatever it was he was doing.
It wasn't until Parker and Sophie headed into the kitchen in that absent way that suggested they were about to eat him out of house and home that Nate realised Eliot was wearing the same clothes as he had been yesterday and was still staring at the screen with that same blank look.
Nate stayed out of reach, standing directly between Eliot and the screen and trying to remember if Eliot had hit his head in the last job. Or, more reasonably, if anyone had hit Eliot in the head. Nothing came to mind, but Eliot didn't seem to have noticed that he wasn't staring at a screen any more, but Nate's chest. Now that he was looking, actually looking, Nate could see the fine trembling in Eliot's hands. Hardison glanced up, noticing the tension in Nate. He looked between Eliot and Nate, frowning at Eliot's expression.
"Y' alright, man?" he asked, reaching out to wave a hand in front of Eliot's face. Nate caught his hand, shaking his head.
"Eliot, look at me." Nate said in his most authoritarian voice. Slowly, Eliot looked up. Nate shuddered. While Eliot's eyes were sharp and focused on him, it was like there was no one inside, no emotion showing on his face. Nate looked away and found Parker and Sophie standing behind the sofa staring curiously.
"Sophie, phone a doctor. Hardison, pull out an ID with health insurance. Parker, sit with Eliot until I get back. Don't touch him, stay out of reach." Nate met each gaze seriously, made sure everyone know what they needed to do, then he walked into the other room and pulled out the organiser of contacts they were slowly building up. He opened it to Willy Martin's details and picked up the phone.
-
The doctor didn't say anything they didn't already know. He pointed out the service record (as close as Hardison could get it based on rumours and the tiny amounts of information Eliot had shared with them) and cited battle fatigue.
Sometimes it could happen, a relapse, he told them, in threatening situations, or if the victim hears something which reminds them of their service and the situations surrounding that service.
Nate didn't tell him that Eliot had fought fight after fight over the last week, and the goon with the semi-automatic who'd tried to gun Parker down probably hadn't helped, not to mention the jobs Eliot was taking on the side. One of those things had taken Eliot back to things he couldn't handle, experiences no one should have to face.
Sophie was still berating herself for not seeing the signs, the anger and sharp tone, days of headaches. But Nate had a heavier weight to bear. He had been forewarned.
Willy had given him a list of things over the phone that had worked the first time around. Most of them involved the words quiet, slow, still. Then he'd berated Nate for not making Eliot rest, for letting him take side jobs into combat zones and then making him fight when he got back home. Nate took it all. When he was done, Willy had demanded Nate make the boy phone him when he was feeling better and slammed the phone down.
-
The lights in Nate's apartment were dimmed and everyone was sitting in the lounge with Eliot, subdued but settled. Alec had his laptop, Parker was on the floor at Eliot's feet sorting through diamonds on a cloth, Sophie had a script, occasionally muttering the words aloud to herself, and Nate had his oft-ignored book.
All four sentinels froze as Eliot sat forwards, ran his hands through his hair and scowled at the grimy feeling. Saying nothing, Eliot stood unsteadily and stepped over Parker, wandering past Sophie and up the stairs at the back of Nate's apartment. They stared, breathless as Eliot disappeared onto the second floor, breathing again at the sound of the shower running.
Nate scowled. "When are you all going to stop treating my house like a hotel?" he asked.
It was enough. No eye-contact, not yet, and he still trembled in every part of himself when he reappeared moments later, hair and T-shirt wet but not much cleaner. But it was enough.
He took his seat again, and Sophie moved just a little closer, Parker's back now pressed against his leg as she pretended she hadn't even noticed him moving, focused entirely on her diamonds. He looked around himself, blinking lazy-slow at them.
"Thanks." he rasped.
Nate smiled, cheering internally.
"Any time."