Author: RowenaR

Rating: K+

Category: romance, hurt/comfort

Disclaimer: Leverage... belongs to people who are not me (because, trust me, if I owned it, you't know it) but I'd still like to play around with the characters. Especially Eliot. In writing, people. Sheesh, get your mind out of the gutter.

Summary: Eliot continues to puzzle Parker. As does that strange thing called 'love'. Follow up/wrap up to 'Fragments', but can also stand alone.

A/N: So, I did say I'd wanted to write a story from Parker's perspective so here it is (and uh... I'm a little anxious about it). It's kind of a wrap up to the Fragments, this time with Parker's eyes. I do have an idea for a multi-chapter story to follow this (I also... happened to sign it up for the Leverage Big Bang 2010 on LiveJournal), if anyone is interested. Oh, and also maybe a Stargate Atlantis/Leverage crossover that's all mac's fault (she called the bunny Fred... Fred is a vicious little thing with beady eyes that glares at me... um, you know what I mean). Yeah.

Anyway, as always: Not a native speaker, so please excuse any weird grammatical constructions, run-ons and typos. Feedback will earn you a cookie, flames will roast my marshmellows.

Reconcile the Violence

"I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart."

Muse, "Undisclosed Desires"

It scares her a little. The way he's lying on the bed; so still, only his chest rising and falling with the breathing a little labored because of the bruised ribs, that is. That's not the Eliot she knows and it's freaking her out. Usually, when he gets hurt, he either just grits his teeth, puts some ice on it and is just a little more tightlipped. Or when it's a bit worse than that, he retreats to his apartment for a day or two, like a wounded predator that needs a little time to nurse his wounds.

But this time, there had been a concussion involved – not a really bad one, as they told them but still – bruised ribs and a broken wrist and a few other unpleasant things and Nate hadn't let Eliot do his usual act but instead had sent him upstairs to his own bed, declaring someone needed to take care of him, in case the concussion had any nasty side effects.

At that, everyone had looked at her because ever since they knew, they all automatically assumed it was her job to take care of him, just as he took care of her. Until now, though, Eliot hadn't given her cause to, always refusing anyone's help when injured so she had never had to talk her way out of it. It's not that she didn't want to do it… okay, no, she didn't. Deep down, injury and illness scare her and seeing Eliot injured always makes her edgy, although she has no idea why.

But this time… she'd registered his hesitation before his routine protestation of being fine and the hand that nearly reached out to the counter of Nate's kitchen to steady himself that was a sure sign that the concussion was making him feel dizzy and somehow the feeling of not wanting him to be alone in that state – he certainly wouldn't leave her alone in that kind of state – had won out over being crept out by an Eliot who wasn't quite himself.

So now she's sitting here, watching him, not quite knowing what else she's supposed to do. They just told her that if anything – anything – in his condition changed she should call them immediately and wait for further instructions. Of course it's ridiculous of her to feel clueless about the situation because she damn well has enough basic medical knowledge to be capable of judging whether she needs to call an ambulance or not – after all it was Eliot who taught her some additional field medic skills to her first aid skills. But… they never told her that it changes everything if the patient is someone you are… involved with.

Well, to be honest… they never told her that everything changes when you become involved with someone. In a certain, academic way she'd always known that because everyone kept saying so but it had still been a complete surprise to her that it really worked that way when she had given in to her desire to have Eliot and he had refused to leave afterward… in fact, had refused to go back to the way they were in that silent stoic way of his and she had found she liked it that way.

She hugs her knees a little tighter and smiles a little smile. At first, Eliot had merely intrigued her. He had appeared to be the typical dumb muscle but she had learned very, very quickly that he was anything but. She'd also learned that she really likes to watch him 'do his thing', including weighing in on the planning. And well, she'd learned very fast that she could intimidate and perplex him simply by being herself.

Her first reaction to that had been confusion but after a while she had started to do it on purpose because she felt an inexplicable satisfaction whenever he had frowned and declared that there was something wrong with her. She'd really felt oddly smug whenever he did that.

Okay, so he still does that from time to time but it clearly lost its sting and maybe he still means it but oddly enough… it doesn't feel like it bothers him anymore. It even feels like he has come to accept the way she is… and that he will never fully understand her. She's fine with that, though. It's honest and she likes honesty.

But she has a feeling that it bugs him – or maybe used to bug him, she's not quite sure – that Hardison does understand her… and always is so damn understanding. He's jealous of that – and of Hardison, despite everything – she had realized at some point. It does give her a strange thrill to know that Eliot is jealous, even though she doesn't quite understand why.

He had tried to explain it to her once but it had ended in frustration and growling and then gone in a totally different direction because she just can't resist Eliot when he's growling. So she had never gotten around to explaining to him that sometimes it scared her when people understood her and that it was okay if a friend did it because there are lines friends don't cross and distances they don't close but that the person you are with does cross and does close. A person who was that close to her should just never understand her as well as Hardison or Sophie do.

On the bed, there's some movement but it doesn't look like he woke up – he's been out cold since they practically dragged him up the stairs and put him into Nate's bed – so she tries to ignore the quickening of her heart beat and the desire to reach out and give his uninjured hand a squeeze or push that lock of hair away from his face. Instead… she finds her thoughts wandering back through the four months since he had her on her kitchen table the first time.

It's a nice thing to wander back to, she thinks because the things that come to her first are of course the nights with him… and the stolen kisses on jobs that still haven't lost any of their exciting appeal… and the quiet moments when he forces her to relax by making her sit on the sofa and listen to him reading or let his hands work the knots out of her muscles after a job that demanded a lot of rappelling work from her. Also of course the fun moments when he tried to teach her how to cook that always ended up in food fights… oh yeah, she really likes those and the reason why she pretends to be a hopeless cook is that she enjoys him trying to teach her too much.

There is, however, another thing she learned about him in the last few months… okay, maybe she'd suspected it for a lot longer but that's not the point. The point is that… she has a feeling that deep down Eliot is just as screwed up as she is – maybe that also was the reason why he always reacted so uncomprehending to a lot of things she had said or done. Deep inside of him, she thinks, there seems to be something lurking. Something dark, something twisted… and she wants to find that place and break into it; steal whatever is there and hide it far away from him, to keep it from hurting him.

Because that it is hurting him is very plain to see. Part of that, she saw when he was in the ring during that Nebraska job… but even more so when the guys from the gym had him cornered in that back alley to test his fighting skills and she had been there to film it. He had to hold back so as not to tip Rucker off that he was not an amateur fighter but in fact one of the world's best unarmed combat specialists and she had seen in his face just how much that had pissed him off. It had taken every ounce of his self-control and that had given her a glimpse into his mind she wasn't sure she liked.

But by that time she had known him well enough to trust that he knew what he was doing and he never disappointed her until now. He never hurt her – at least physically – until now, neither intentionally or unintentionally and the one time he had lashed out at her and made her feel really, really miserable he'd made up for the same evening.

Yes, she trusts that he won't let out whatever is inside him that he needs to control but she also sees how much it sometimes costs him not to let it out. When Hardison had felt the need to confront Eliot about sleeping with her, she'd felt her heart lurch because she'd instinctively known how much that would challenge him and she had been oddly proud of Eliot when he had let Hardison take that one swing at him without hitting back… well, much.

It makes her smirk a little, the thought of Hardison knowing he didn't stand a chance against Eliot and going up against him anyway and… "What're you grinning 'bout, huh?"

Oh… oh, now he is awake and he doesn't really sound happy but at least his vision doesn't seem to be affected. "Your misfortune." It makes him make a face and it almost looks like he's about to get up to give her some misfortune so she quickly changes her tactic and adds a distracting, "How are you feeling?"

His face twists with irritation. "Head's still killing me." That's not really… a good sign, right? "But at least I can see straight again." Oh, okay, that is a good sign, isn't it?

So… maybe she could… "Does that mean you can be on your own again?" Damn, she hadn't meant to blurt it out like that but she really doesn't want to see Eliot like that. And she doesn't want to be torn between wanting to flee the scene and wanting to crawl into bed with him anymore.

She looks at him again, already ducking her head at the frown on his face. "I can always be on my own." Damn, she just screwed it up and now he's going to… "But I don't always want to." Oh. Was that… an invitation? "Parker… just c'me here if you want to."

He's all huffs and puffs again but she learned to see through that and if she got that right, he didn't say that for her benefit – well, not solely, anyway – but for his. However, she can't quite resist saying, "I don't think you're in the shape for me coming into bed with you."

It makes him choke – wait, was that supposed to be a laugh? – and cough a little before he growls, "Quit joking around and just move your ass over here." Ah yeah… that's how she likes him. But something… is a little off. He wasn't quite as stern as he used to be and it occurs to her… that he really wants her at his side, bruised ribs and broken wrist and concussion be damned. It's so… new to her that she has to take a moment to consider it.

In the end, though, she knows what she has to do… and what she wants to do. Maybe she can't free him from whatever is torturing him so much that he needs control over everything… but she sure as hell can overcome her reservations concerning injury and illness, if that helps making him feel better. Because right now, she really wants him to feel better.

As she's climbing into his bed, careful not to touch the injured part of his chest or the wrist, she remembers that she had once heard someone say that loving someone meant you always wanted them to be okay, no matter what… even at the cost of your own well-being. And isn't that what she's doing now?

Also… if loving someone is also somehow connected to that nice, warm feeling she gets when Eliot gingerly puts his arm around her shoulders as she settles down by his uninjured side then… then it's a feeling she could very well get used to, despite all the scary side-effects. She just has to figure out how to tell Eliot without him freaking out. But lots of people say that every day to their loved ones. Shouldn't be so hard then, should it?