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Memories and disappointments, they were hunting him.
Late at night, in his bed, Eliot tried to regain control of his own demons: his nightmares. It wasn’t an easy task, but years of training had given him the necessary edge to just do that. Despite the liters of saline solution, some of the Red Haze seemed to still be in his system, and he was finding it hard to control himself.
Images of the past, of the time of Operation Kansas, bombarded his brain. In his sleep, Eliot clenched his fists and hissed.
And now, it wasn’t just a military op gone wrong to stalk his mind: his father did, too.
He had reached out for him again- only for being turned down for the third time. There were things his old man didn’t want to forgive: his son’s previous job seemed one of them. Even now that he was sick, he refused to meet him halfway.
Death, fire, destruction, blood.
Words filled with hatred, disappointment, a slap, his back turned.
And then, anguish. Loneliness, fear. Blood. Disappointment. Sense of abandonment. And the not knowing.
(He didn't know what was worse.)
And then, peace engulfed his whole being. He felt warmth and love, and every bad feeling disappeared, replaced by happy memories as he sighed, content, and he leaned in the touch of the small hand cupping his cheek.
“Hey, babe.” He mumbled, still half-asleep- even if Becks knew that Eliot was like a cat, always on alert. He left a butterfly kiss on her palm and settled back into bed as she sat beside him.
Eliot squinted his eyes, studying between two narrow slits his lifelong companion, and found her suddenly tired.
He could understand her. Christmas was not easy for either of them.
He had his past: but she had lost their child the previous Christmas. A child they had not sought, but who, come unexpectedly, had become loved and cherished.
“You should have called me.” She gave him a gentle slap on the head. “Or allowed Sophie to tell me what was wrong.”
“You and Hardison were busy saving the world from total economic collapse.” He grunted. “And I don't need you to hold my hand. Although I must admit it can be very pleasant."
He chuckled, and she slapped him again, just a little stronger, and rolled her eyes.
“Idiot,” She mumbled.
“Brianna called you?” He asked, albeit rhetorically. He already knew the answer: of course, it was Brianna.
“She told me about RIZ and this drug they gave you.” Becks nodded, chuckling lightly as she run a hand through Eliot’s hair. In recent years he had regrown it, and now it was exactly as it had been when they had first met, there was not even a trace of a single silver strand. Eliot never seemed to age. He had the same energy as when they had met ten years earlier, and he was making hearts (and bodies) break wherever he went. No one could resist him, whether it was a damsel in distress or a brute to be taken down.
“Red Haze. It reacts with the chemical in the brain to enhance memories and emotions. The bad ones. And dragon lady knew which buttons to press. But I’m okay now.”
“Saline just increases fluids in your body, making your kidneys flush at full speed to eliminate toxins and waste, but there may still be traces in other tissues where the rate of elimination is slower. And that doesn't eliminate the problem that now there is something out there that we are not prepared for."
"Sorry babe, but I didn't have time to steal a vial of that stuff from that excuse of a cop mall.” He chuckled again.
"Ah, that's all right, I have my own ways of reverse-engineering the formula. Some organs retain chemicals very well, for example..."
With a satisfied expression, she plucked a strand of his hair from the root and enclosed it in a transparent zip bag as if it had been the mother lode evidence in a murder case.
"Hey!" He grunted, massaging his aching spot.
"Sorry honey, but hair is the best thing in this case. It holds all the substances without dispersing them, ever.” She explained. As she often did, Becks was talking slowly, underlining each and every word, as if he were five years old. It wasn’t because she thought Eliot was stupid – it was the opposite- but it had become sort of a play between them. “With this lock of yours, I could figure out what they used on you and see if it's possible to work on an antidote or recreate the original formula to build up resistance."
“Babe, I know you are talking about drugging the team and making them go through their worst nightmares…”
“In a controlled environment through hypnosis and neuro-linguistic programming…” she continued for him.
“I know you are talking about drugging the team and making them go through their worst nightmares in a controlled environment through hypnosis and neuro-linguistic programming, but you are really hot when you go all geek on me.” He finished the sentence. A smile- honest and true- appeared on his lips. Eliot closed his eyes, inspired her scent, and gently dragged her down, on top of him, her head resting on the bend of his neck. “Thanks for being here.”
She caressed his cheek, and moved her hand south, skimming over his pulse point on his neck. “Your dad was a no-show again?”
“Doesn’t matter. My family’s here, in this building. And on the other side of the world.” He admitted with a bit of reluctance. Still, Becks knew how much Eliot and Hardison loved each other: they were brothers in everything but blood. “You staying for a while?”
“I thought I’d stop by and finally meet our Mister Wilson.” She sighed, dramatically and exaggeratedly, pretending to be day-dreaming; when he had “joined” the team, Becks had worked with Hardison to recreate a masterpiece, but she had solely worked behind the scenes, without never meeting the fixer at all, and then, she had been called in Africa to help with polluted pits. “Besides, I missed you. I’m always hearing about all these damsels falling for you, and I’m sort of getting jealous.”
“Only woman I’m interested in is right here.” He reassured her with a serene expression, staring into her eyes as he squeezed her fingers.
She left a kiss on his mouth, and then, came back to rest in his embrace, getting ready for a new day- and new trials and tribulations.
