The pained, pinched look around his eyes some days, the dark rings on others. They shrug and go on with the con when he tells them it’s just a hangover (no matter that he rarely gets drunk enough to get hung over in the first place), or that it’s just the remains of a concussion, nothing more. He gives the same reason for the dizziness and nausea that creep up on him at times, but only if he can’t hide them first.
The way he’s been losing weight. It’s gradual. They don’t realize it until one day, Hardison digs up a photo of Eliot taken back when they’d first got together and jokes, “You been watchin’ your weight or somethin’, Jenny Craig?” Eliot just grumbles something about “all ‘a y’all” needing to eat better, and how they’d starve to death without him.
The way he gets tired more easily. Parker comments that he’d lied to them: He sleeps waaay more than the ninety minutes a night he’d once claimed he gets. He tells her that watching people sleep is creepy, and that it’s something sparkling vampires do.
The way he doesn’t fight more than one guy at a time now if he can help it. That’s something they only realize when they hear the almost silent curse when four guys turn up to block the only escape he and Nate have. He takes them all down after a longer fight than usual (with Nate assisting where he can), but one gets back up, and doesn’t even touch him before Eliot stumbles and has to lean against the wall. It’s Nate that knocks the thug out.
That’s when they really start watching, but they would have noticed the next thing that happens, even if they hadn’t been keeping a close watch on him.
He’s in the kitchen, just like always, chopping something to add to the pot of merrily bubbling homemade chili, when there’s a sudden clatter, a groan, and the thud of a body hitting the ground, in that order.
They rush in and stop short, stumbling all over each other in their shock at the sight in front of them. It’s Parker that recovers first; she slides over to him and pulls his head up onto her lap so that it’s not banging against the hardwood floor with every violent tremor of his body.
“Call 911!” she shouts angrily at the rest of the team. “Hey! Snap out of it and help him!”
. . . . . . . . . .
The doctor tells them that the seizure was caused by a tumor in his cerebellum.
The stare at him, dumbfounded.
“Tumor?” Nate croaks.
The doctor’s expression turns understanding, sympathetic. “You didn’t know. He hadn’t told you.” It’s not a question.
“No, he hadn’t told us,” Sophie says. “Perhaps he hadn’t known?”
The doctor shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid he would have noticed the symptoms long ago. Even if he hadn’t in the beginning, the sheer size of it now has to be causing more problems than even the most stubborn of patients can ignore. I’m sorry,” he says. “If you would like to see him, he’s awake. Don’t overtire him, though.”
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timeasmymeasure
Terminal, Part 1
Date: 2011-10-08 10:38 pm (UTC)The pained, pinched look around his eyes some days, the dark rings on others. They shrug and go on with the con when he tells them it’s just a hangover (no matter that he rarely gets drunk enough to get hung over in the first place), or that it’s just the remains of a concussion, nothing more. He gives the same reason for the dizziness and nausea that creep up on him at times, but only if he can’t hide them first.
The way he’s been losing weight. It’s gradual. They don’t realize it until one day, Hardison digs up a photo of Eliot taken back when they’d first got together and jokes, “You been watchin’ your weight or somethin’, Jenny Craig?” Eliot just grumbles something about “all ‘a y’all” needing to eat better, and how they’d starve to death without him.
The way he gets tired more easily. Parker comments that he’d lied to them: He sleeps waaay more than the ninety minutes a night he’d once claimed he gets. He tells her that watching people sleep is creepy, and that it’s something sparkling vampires do.
The way he doesn’t fight more than one guy at a time now if he can help it. That’s something they only realize when they hear the almost silent curse when four guys turn up to block the only escape he and Nate have. He takes them all down after a longer fight than usual (with Nate assisting where he can), but one gets back up, and doesn’t even touch him before Eliot stumbles and has to lean against the wall. It’s Nate that knocks the thug out.
That’s when they really start watching, but they would have noticed the next thing that happens, even if they hadn’t been keeping a close watch on him.
He’s in the kitchen, just like always, chopping something to add to the pot of merrily bubbling homemade chili, when there’s a sudden clatter, a groan, and the thud of a body hitting the ground, in that order.
They rush in and stop short, stumbling all over each other in their shock at the sight in front of them. It’s Parker that recovers first; she slides over to him and pulls his head up onto her lap so that it’s not banging against the hardwood floor with every violent tremor of his body.
“Call 911!” she shouts angrily at the rest of the team. “Hey! Snap out of it and help him!”
. . . . . . . . . .
The doctor tells them that the seizure was caused by a tumor in his cerebellum.
The stare at him, dumbfounded.
“Tumor?” Nate croaks.
The doctor’s expression turns understanding, sympathetic. “You didn’t know. He hadn’t told you.” It’s not a question.
“No, he hadn’t told us,” Sophie says. “Perhaps he hadn’t known?”
The doctor shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid he would have noticed the symptoms long ago. Even if he hadn’t in the beginning, the sheer size of it now has to be causing more problems than even the most stubborn of patients can ignore. I’m sorry,” he says. “If you would like to see him, he’s awake. Don’t overtire him, though.”