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It started with the sniffles. No big deal , Eliot thought. It's just allergies . But when the sniffles turned into full-blown sneezes, a sore throat, and a croup-like cough, he knew it was probably something more. Still, he ignored his symptoms as much as humanly possible, deciding that it was strictly a “mind over matter” scenario.
The rest of the team did not feel the same way, particularly Hardison and Parker, but they also knew that there was no way they could get Eliot to the doctor. He wouldn’t even go to the hospital when he got shot last month; he wasn’t going to see a medical professional for this. But Eliot knew his “I have seasonal allergies!” excuse wasn’t cutting it anymore. He had tried to sit in on the briefing for the new case, but he kept coughing and interrupting Hardison’s carefully crafted presentation.
“Dude, you sound like you’re hacking up a lung!” Hardison exclaimed. “Please, if you’re not gonna get checked out—”
“I’m fine!” Eliot insisted.
The hacker dramatically cleared his throat for emphasis. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, please stay home until you’re back to perfect health. Some of us don’t want to catch whatever you have. It’s nasty!”
“Eliot, sweetie, please go home and get some rest,” Sophie said.
“But the job…” Eliot trailed off. It was no use arguing, especially since those three measly words caused him to have another coughing fit. Eliot tried to stand, but it was as if whatever bug he caught had suddenly zapped the life right out of him. All of his strength was gone. The hitter felt himself begin to fall backwards. Nate and Hardison caught him right before he hit the ground.
The next thing Eliot knew, he was at home in bed. “What? How did I…?” he trailed off, bewildered.
“Nate and Hardison brought you up to your apartment hours ago. I drove your car here for you!” Parker said happily, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.
“You WHAT?!” Eliot choked out. He started pulling back the covers so he could go look out his apartment window. He had to make sure Parker didn’t total his car!
“I’m kidding!” Parker said, laughing. “I knew you’d never let me drive your car. Nate drove it here, and Alec followed him in Lucille, with you lying down in the back. We figured that’d be okay because Nate’s driven it before, you know? For the race car job?” She said the last bit in a rush because Eliot was just staring at her, thoroughly confused.
“Wait, where did you get that cereal? I distinctly remember not having any of that in my pantry,” Eliot drawled, sounding a bit more like himself than he had all morning.
“Oh! I picked it up when Hardison and I went to the drug store earlier, while you were taking a nap, and we got DayQuil, NyQuil, tissues, throat coat tea—”
“Gross, Parker, you know I hate that!”
“Yes, yes we know,” Hardison said as he walked into the room, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice. “But it’s good for you right now! Don’t you want to get better so you can get back to beating people up for a living?”
“Hey, you want my job?!” Eliot asked, incredulous. “I get punched and kicked!” It was then that he felt the weight of his illness settling in his chest again. The adrenaline rush he’d gotten from the thought of Parker driving his car was starting to wear off. Eliot tried to suck in a deep breath, which led to another coughing fit.
“Here, take one of these,” Parker said, unceremoniously shoving the bag of lozenges at him.
Eliot squinted at her for a minute, and then at the bag. He blinked, trying to read what flavor his friends had picked up. Wild honey, his favorite. Sighing, he unwrapped a cough drop and popped it in his mouth.
“Now, don’t chew. It’s not candy!” Hardison told him seriously.
“Dammit, Hardison! I know it’s not candy!” Eliot growled. He could feel himself starting to get annoyed, but he tried to fight the feeling. His friends were just trying to help.
Suddenly, Parker whipped out a thermometer. “There, there,” Parker soothed as she took Eliot’s temperature (102°!). Then she took a cool washcloth and placed it on the sick man’s feverish forehead. What, did she have those in her back pocket?! Eliot wondered. Still, he found that he was leaning into her touch, despite himself. Something about the woman's actions just now felt oddly familiar. Then it clicked.
It wasn’t often that Eliot let himself think about his mother. In fact, it really only happened when he was sick and didn’t have the wherewithal to keep his thoughts and feelings about her shoved down deep into the recesses of his mind. Eliot felt tears prickling behind his eyelids. He tried desperately to suppress his emotions, but all his walls started to come down of their own accord. He sighed, knowing that whatever he was feeling was going to come spilling out of him any moment now. This was why he hated being sick so much and tried to avoid it as best he could. He hated to be vulnerable, yes, but it was so much more than that.
“She… she used to do this. For me. When I got sick,” Eliot said, voice quivering ever so slightly.
“Your mom?” Parker inquired. The thief was fairly certain she already knew who ‘she’ was, based on some conversations she'd had with Eliot over the years, but Parker felt like the clarification was necessary.
"Y-yeah," Eliot stammered. "She would… with the cloth…" he said, drifting off. Then quietly, to himself: "I miss her."
Eliot’s mother, Jeanne, had been through a lot during her lifetime. It would’ve made most people bitter and distrustful of the world and its inhabitants. Jeanne, however, was not most people. She was friendly, welcoming, and had a sweet disposition, despite her upbringing.
As a child, Eliot adored his mother, and she him. One day, they were on their way home from the ice cream parlor when a drunk driver came out of nowhere and hit the Spencer family vehicle head on. Both the drunk driver and Jeanne were killed upon impact. Eliot had been the lone survivor.
Life was never the same for Eliot after that. His father, Josiah, barely acknowledged his young son’s existence in the days and years following the crash. The man was filled with anger and resentment, which always seemed to be directed towards Eliot. As a result, Eliot had always assumed his father blamed him for the accident entirely. Never mind the fact that the drunk driver never should’ve been on the road; Eliot figured that in Josiah’s twisted mind, Jeanne would still be alive if their son hadn’t wanted ice cream. Years later, Eliot was still wracked with guilt over his mother’s death, which was why he tried (usually successfully) not to think about her at all. The grief and remorse were just too much to bear.
Then the smell of throat coat tea pulled Eliot out of his reverie. Hardison placed the offending mug of disgusting liquid on the night table.
“Here, man, ya gotta drink this,” Hardison said, gesturing towards the mug. “I know you don’t like it, but it really will do wonders for your sore throat. I promise. Nana always made this for us when we were sick, and look how I turned out,” he added with a broad smile.
Pretty sure the tea had nothing to do with how you ‘turned out,’ Eliot thought. Surprisingly, sick as he was, he still was able to keep his thoughts to himself. He knew both Hardison and Parker were just trying to help him feel better.
It was then that Eliot decided it was time that his friends—no, his family —knew how much he appreciated them and their efforts to get him on the road to recovery. Their mutual fondness had always been an unspoken thing between the three of them, so the other two already knew how Eliot felt. He didn’t have to worry. But in his sick, addled state, he was suddenly unsure.
“You guys, this… all of this…” Eliot stammered, voice wavering. “You didn’t have to… I’m sure you had more important things…” He couldn’t seem to settle on a sentence.
“Hush now, we know we didn’t have to,” Hardison started. “We wanted to.”
Eliot felt the desperate need to regain his composure, but found he was unable to do so. Once again, tears began to form in his eyes, threatening to fall at any second. However, this time he didn’t fight it. He allowed himself to shed a few tears (only a few) for his mother and, if he was honest with himself, for the team, too. The man had spent so many years longing for a family who would love, care, and support him through anything and everything. In this moment, Eliot realized that he finally had what he had begged and pleaded with God for ever since he lost his mother.
He had found his family.