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Waking up in the hospital had not been the plan. Eliot distinctly remembered setting things in motion so that waking up in the hospital wouldn’t play any part of the plan.
His palms were already flexed against the mattress, intending to push himself up so that he could analyze what went wrong and see about fixing it, when Nate’s voice reached his ears. “Don’t blame Gail. She has three kids and a mountain of student debt to worry about.”
The fight went out of Eliot as quickly as it had flared up – he collapsed back against the bed with a sharp exhalation of breath. “You don’t con your crew,” he said, twisting his neck so that he could fix Nate with an accusing glare.
Morphine… his hind brain warned as it finished cataloging his body’s reactions. It meant he was at even more of a disadvantage than normal, and would need to watch every word. The first of what he knew would be many paranoid thoughts rose in his mind as he wondered if Nate had agreed to that strong a painkiller for him on purpose.
“Wasn’t a con,” the mastermind said, leaning lightly on the bedrail. “More like an apology.”
Eliot tried for nearly a full minute to make sense of the statement and finally gave it up as a bad job. “Does it have to be morphine?” he asked, waving his hand weakly in the direction of his IV. “Makes it hard to focus.”
He thought for a second Nate was going to argue, but the older man’s expression finally softened. “I figured you’d react better than waking up in restraints.”
He’s not wrong. Out loud Eliot said, “I had everything under control.” It sounded incredibly defensive to his ears, especially after Parker and Hardison spending so much time and energy trying to convince him to go to the hospital, but Nate stepping in like this woke all kinds of feelings he wasn’t in a position to process right now, and was terrified to trust.
“You didn’t,” Nate said, “but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
Silence fell between them again. Eliot felt strange watching someone as glib as Nate obviously struggling to find the right words to express himself. “Boss…” he said finally, intending to put the older man out of his misery.
Nate shook his head, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “Give me a second. I want to get this right the first time.” Eliot fell silent, but the fear he’d finally figured out how to keep at bay kept swelling inside until it felt like he was going to choke on it. Don’t. Don’t say it. Please, Nate… It wasn’t the mastermind’s fault that he wasn’t strong enough to take on the role Eliot wanted for him. They both just needed to make their peace with it and figure out a way to move on.
“I’ve already told you how much it scares me that we’ve ended up in this position,” Nate said at last. “With you at my side, I have the kind of power in this city that my father always dreamed of.” He huffed out a quiet, bitter-sounding chuckle. “The kind of power I always told myself I never wanted.”
His hands chafed against the bars of the bedrail. “I told you in Washington that I understand what my responsibilities are in this relationship. What I didn’t realize is that we’ve gone too far for me to pretend that we aren’t standing where we both know we are.” His brilliant blue eyes locked with Eliot’s, and the hitter felt a jolt of energy shiver through his body. “I stick my head in the sand, you end up here…or worse,” he said firmly. “That ends today.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Eliot said weakly. “Nate, you’ve made it really clear…” His voice trailed off, because Nate was already shaking his head.
“All I’ve managed to make clear since we talked in Washington is that I’m a stubborn asshole, not worthy of the faith you’ve put in me.”
That got a smile from Eliot, along with a realization that his last dose of morphine was finally starting to wear off. “Who’re you trying to convince there, Boss?”
Now it was Nate’s turn to glare at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “I want your power of attorney,” he said. Eliot felt his eyes widen as he realized where the conversation was heading – Nate was about to commit to their relationship in a way the hitter had never imagined anyone would. “Medical surrogate forms, living will, as air-tight and legal as we can make it. You’re going to walk me through every contingency, familiarize me with every plan you currently have for yourself, so I can defend you when it counts.”
Eliot was silent for a long moment, digesting Nate’s demands. No one – not even Damien Moreau – had ever considered that he would one day need somebody to protect him, to consider his wishes and be willing to fight for them to be upheld. “You’ll need to start being a proper boss,” he said finally, meeting Nate’s eyes again. “You don’t get to indulge your personal crap anymore. Not when it hurts the team.”
“I’ll start listening to you more when you think I’m coming off the rails,” Nate said, acknowledging what Eliot was really demanding from him, “but you have to remember that sometimes we need to push that envelope.”
Under the circumstances, it was a concession Eliot could make.
**************************
Nate was visibly shaking by the time he was able to step out of Eliot’s hospital room. He’d seen his hitter properly settled, met with Eliot’s doctors, and stayed at the younger man’s bedside until he’d fallen into a genuine, drug-free sleep.
Sophie was waiting for him, a coffee in each hand. “You look like hell,” she remarked, extending one of the cups in his direction. Nate took it with a nod of thanks, sipped, and almost choked when he tasted the Irish laced through the strong, black coffee. “I’m not completely heartless,” she added when he looked up at her – the question in his eyes. “I know what this is doing to you.”
“Thanks,” Nate sighed, feeling the tension drain out of him. He took another sip – this time savoring the taste. “I never wanted this,” he sighed, leaning back against the nearest wall for support. “You know that, right?”
“I know you never wanted to be this person,” Sophie acknowledged, “but I think deep down the part of you that knows what it means is perfectly comfortable with it.”
His first instinct was to lash out, to deny the accusation – because stripped of all the niceties that’s what it was – but too much had happened. Exhaling softly, Nate took another sip of his coffee – welcoming the numbing warmth that spread through his body. “It gives us standing,” he said, meeting her gaze squarely. “A security we wouldn’t have otherwise.”
“And who are you planning on having him kill first?”
That prompted a smile from the exhausted mastermind. “Cute. You do get that this is as much about me finally being able to protect him as formalizing his job protecting us?”
Sophie was silent for a long moment, nursing her coffee. “I understand what’s involved, Nate,” she admitted at last. “This isn’t my first dance with this kind of life. What worries me is whether or not you’re ready for the responsibility? It’s not just about Eliot being willing to trust you…can you be worthy of that trust?”
Even a week ago Nate would have brushed off giving any sort of answer. The question was too big and he wasn’t ready to face it. Now, though… “He picked up a gun for me,” he said softly, praying as he looked at Sophie that she would understand, that she wouldn’t over react. “In Washington. Moreau had us in a kill box – Eliot went farther than I ever imagined anyone would, and he got us out.” Memory shivered across his skin, but he forced himself not to flinch away from the look on Sophie’s face, or the horror in her eyes.
“I have to be worthy, Sophie.” He drained the last of the coffee and crushed the paper cup in his fist. “This isn’t the first time he’s made that kind of sacrifice for someone without even thinking twice about the consequences to himself. I’m not going to be the kind of person that takes that level of devotion for granted. I can’t. I won’t.”
Pushing himself off the wall, he threw the cup away – hitting the trash can dead on without looking. “He deserves better than that. And I’m going to make sure he’s never without it again.”