Work Text:
Eliot flinches, and Parker braces for him to snap something at her about how she shouldn’t be ridiculous, or she doesn’t understand what’s really going on, or that there’s something wrong with her (which, well…DUH!). She almost welcomes it. Nothing feels right anymore. Everybody’s looking at each other, and when they talk it’s in low whispers about stupid stuff until she wants to use her tazer on everybody within reach.
Everybody talked like caring about people was so important and so wonderful, and nobody ever talked about how much it could hurt.
She’s surprised when Eliot doesn’t growl. It’s strange the way he stops and his expression softens. She can tell he’s thinking about what she’s said, and that what she’s said is something that deserves a thoughtful answer. Sophie’s told her more than once that really listening to what somebody is saying and thinking about what you need to say back is one of those you’re supposed to do when you care about somebody.
(Not all the time, she had also pointed out to Parker’s immense relief, but still…)
“Nate’s not gonna die,” Eliot says finally. His voice is gentle, without its usual rasp, and Parker feels herself start to relax a bit. He leans on the counter that borders the office kitchen, staring across at her. “He’s got a concussion and some temporary hearing loss and he’s banged up a little, but he’s not gonna die.” He shrugs then. “They only kept him the one night for observation.”
“I know,” Parker counters, “but it’s been a week now, and he hasn’t gotten out of bed and Sophie’s still got the doctor coming, and…” Eliot reaches across the dark granite and covers one of her hands with his own – squeezing gently. Parker’s rising adrenaline levels faltered immediately; they’d figured out early on that physical contact that wasn’t hard or controlling anchored her – kept her from spiraling off in some manic direction that usually ended with her launching herself off the roof of the nearest skyscraper. Or robbing that diamond merchant in the South End. The thought is disconnected from anything else going on in her head at the moment…really.
“Better?” he asks after a moment and Parker nods. Eliot waits for another second, then loosens his grip. “Nate’s had a lot come down on him pretty quick, you know that right?” He returns her impatient glare with one of his own. “It’s going to take him some time to get back on his feet, but the son of a bitch is too stubborn to let this stop him.” His eyes meet hers, and Parker can’t look away. “Dubenich isn’t getting away with this.”
*************
Eliot obviously isn’t thrilled with the idea of her going up to sit with Nate, but he doesn’t say anything when she announces her intentions later on in the morning. He does tense when she reaches the base of the spiral staircase, but after a beat of silence where he doesn’t yell at her to get away Parker starts up the metal steps.
Nate’s bedroom is dark, and it doesn’t feel right. Parker heads automatically for the window, avoiding the lamps and the overhead fixture. He needs sun. The situation needs fresh air and sun and not to be so closed in and cooped up with the dark thoughts and the dark deeds. Parker knows all about those. They’re when she starts looking for corners and caves and air shafts to hide in – places that are safe and close, where nobody can see you.
She suspects that’s where Nate has gone in the privacy of his own mind; that the room is just reflecting what’s already going on in his head. It scares her though; Nate can go places so dark that he has trouble finding his way back. So she pulls back the curtains and ties each one in place at the edge of the window.
The difference is immediate, and only the fact that it’s a swelteringly hot day by Boston standards keeps Parker from opening the window. She can’t help smiling though, turning her face towards the sun and the life. Already she’s breathing easier in the room, and if she’s feeling better, maybe it’s doing something for Nate.
He’s still sleeping when she turns to look at him, but instead of trying to change that Parker slips easily into the chair at his bed side. “You can’t leave me.”
Well maybe she hadn’t intended to be quite that blunt. But the words are out now, no use pretending they’re not. “You told me that I could be good and be a thief. You taught me things and showed me I was smart and that the world wasn’t something I had to be afraid of.” Tears fall down her cheeks unbidden, but Parker senses that this is one of those times when talking is more important than worrying about whether or not she’s saying the right thing.
“You told Archie he should have made me part of his real family, but he didn’t know how to make me fit. You did that, Nate. You made me a family where I fit and you’re part of that. Don’t go away. Please.”
Even though only inches separate them, Parker feels as though Nate might already be gone. She reaches out to take his hand, but there’s no life in it – no energy – only the slight rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps betrays the fact that he’s even still alive.
Miserable now, Parker crawls on the bed, curling up at his side. “You can’t leave us, Nate,” she says, laying her hand on his chest. “We don’t work without you. I don’t work without you.” She screws her eyes tightly shut, trying to will her grief away. If you do leave…
After what seems like an eternity, Parker feels a hand on hers. Another hand weakly strokes her hair, and she freezes in place – not entirely sure what’s happening. “I’m not leaving, Parker.” The voice is hoarse and broken, but unmistakably Nate. Heart pounding, she twists around until she’s looking at his face. His eyes are open – filled with pain and grief, but open and looking at her.
“I won’t leave you,” he says again – his voice a bit stronger now that he’s gotten going. “Not now, not like this.” With some effort he manages to lean down and press his lips against her hair.
“Besides,” he continues, as Parker snuggles down against his side once more, “we’ve got work to do.”