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It’s been snowing steadily since early yesterday morning, the sort of heavy wet snow that blankets the world in a freezing silence. It’s also the sort of snow that closes schools and shuts down airports. Boston’s been under a winter storm warning for the past twelve hours, and the weather reports only have more snow - up to a couple of feet - in the forecast.
The weather wasn’t supposed to be as bad out on the Cape, but that - as Eliot is quickly discovering - is a lie. It’s quite possibly worse out here. The roads haven’t been plowed in some time, and even driving slowly, it’s hard not to slide on the ice. Eliot’s not even sure where he is. The last couple of road signs have been covered by wind-swept snow. He’s going by landmarks, but even that’s becoming more difficult thanks to the weather. He’s beginning to admit that this trip was a mistake, however good his intentions were.
The music he’s listening to on the radio is interrupted by another weather alert, this one reporting that the power is out throughout Boston and Cape Cod. Eliot curses. There’s no way the mark is going to be out anyways, not in this weather. He decides to turn around. There’s an exit up ahead, its sign also covered, but Eliot decides to take it anyways. He’ll figure out where he is once he gets off the road.
That’s when things all go to hell.
Eliot hits a patch of ice and the car fishtails badly before veering into the snow banks lining the road. He hits the breaks in one last attempt to stop the car, but it’s too late. The car hits the banks and rolls, throwing Eliot around the car and deploying the airbags. Adrenaline rushes through him before he hits his head and the world goes blank.
He comes to some indiscernible time later, head throbbing and body aching. The car, thankfully, has landed the right way. The back half is crumpled, but the front doesn’t seem to have taken too much damage. At least, not inside. The windshield is broken, though, and a cold wind races through the car. Eliot frees himself from the seat belt cutting into his chest and assesses the situation.
Head. Sore - concussion, probably. Wrist - swollen but not broken or sprained. Scratches and cuts from the shattered windshield, including a fairly bad gash on his leg. Freezing cold thanks to the wind.
Okay. Not great, but manageable as long as he gets out of the cold soon. Eliot reaches for his phone, but there’s no sign of it. Probably fell out of the car at some point during the rollover. Comms, then.
“Hardison?” He says. “I need help.” There’s no response, and that’s when Eliot realizes he hasn’t heard the team’s chatter since he came to. Crap. Comms are damaged. He swallows hard. He’s got no way of communicating with the team now - or with anyone, for that matter.
Eliot takes a deep breath. He’s got two options as far as he can tell, neither of them great. He can try walking towards what he hopes is civilization - probably only a mile or two, but that will take him a couple hours with this weather and with his leg the way it is, it might take even longer. The other option is to stay in the car and hope a snow plow or a cop or a good samaritan drives by and sees him. The car doesn’t offer the best shelter, not with the broken windshield, but he’d rather sit here instead of possibly collapsing in some snowbank.
Time passes incredibly slowly, the cold seeping into Eliot’s bones. He’s pretty sure his teeth are chattering, and he’s having a hard time staying awake. He pulls the collar of his jacket up over his face as much as he can and tries to brace against the snow piling up inside the car.
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“Be careful.” Hardison says for what must be the sixth or seventh time since they got in the car.
“I am.” Parker says. “How far are we from the signal?”
Hardison glances down at his phone, where the GPS shows the location of Eliot’s phone. “Not far. Slow down so we can see if we spot him.”
They drive even slower than they have been. The roads haven’t been plowed in a while, and Hardison’s a little worried that they might spin off the road. At least he’s got Nate and Sophie on standby should things go south.
“There, on the right.” Parker says, slowing to a stop. “There’s a car off the road in that ditch.”
“Holy -” Hardison opens the door and braces against the icy air. “That’s him.”
Eliot is slumped in the front seat when they finally get down into the ditch. He doesn’t look too injured, which is a relief, but he’s a terrifying pale shade of white and he’s having difficulty keeping his eyes open.
“We need to get him warm.” Parker says. “Hurry.”
“On it.” The two of them drag Eliot from the car and back up to their car. Hardison had thought ahead and brought several blankets from the collection Parker has built up. He yanks off Eliot’s outer layers and replaces them with the blankets, practically swaddling the other man in his eagerness to warm Eliot up. Parker adjusts the heat.
“Can we make it back?” She asks. “Or do we need to find somewhere to stop?”
Hardison glances at his phone. “Take this exit. There’s a hotel like a mile away. I think we need to get him warmed up as soon as possible.”
Twenty minutes later, they’re in a tiny hotel room. Eliot still hasn’t said a word, but at least his teeth aren’t chattering quite so badly.
Hardison frowns at his phone, where he’s pulled up a page on what to do in situations like this. “Body heat.” He says to Parker.
She grins. “Cuddle time!”
Eliot finally protests when they unwrap him from his blanket cocoon, his speech slow and slurred. “No cold.” He complains.
“Hang on, man.” Hardison says. Once Eliot’s down to a single layer of clothes, they guide him under the covers of the king bed. He sighs as they pile the comforter and layers of blankets over him.
Parker slips under the covers on one side of Eliot and he immediately burrows into the warmth she provides. Hardison hesitates a moment before climbing into bed with them, sending a quick text to Sophie to tell her they’re all safe. Then he joins Parker and Eliot, wrapping Eliot in a giant bear hug.
“This is nice.” Eliot mumbles after a few minutes. “Warm. Like warm.”
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Eliot is warm. No, actually, he’s hot. Burning hot. He tries to move, but finds himself trapped by layers of blankets and wrapped in the arms of a hacker and a thief.
“What’s going on?” He asks. Next to him, Hardison stirs.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.” He says. “You had us worried, man. You were blue.”
Right. The crash. “You found me. How?”
“Tracked your phone’s GPS.” Hardison says. “You wrecked pretty badly.”
“Yeah.” Eliot says. “Thanks for finding me.” He glances over at Parker, who’s awake but has her face buried against his chest. “And for warming me up.”
“Cuddle time is nice.” Parker mumbles, her words muffled. “But next time let’s do it without you almost freezing to death.”
Eliot smiles. “Deal.”