Elliotâs eyes track her hand as it settles against the glass, the way her fingers linger there just a second too long. He doesnât need a badge to read that kind of pause. Evidence. Attachment. Guilt, maybe.
Heâs seen it in interrogation rooms, in victims, in his own reflection more times than heâd ever admit out loud. The artifacts donât pull his attention the way they probably should. Ark of the Covenant, Spear of Destiny⊠names that should carry weight. But right now, heâs watching her.
Kidâs carrying something heavy. Not just this place. Something older. Something she hasnât decided if Iâm allowed to see yet.
He exhales slowly, one hand settling on his hip while the other brushes absently over his coat like heâs grounding himself back in something familiar. âYeah,â he mutters, voice low, thoughtful. âWeird I can handle. Seen worse than weird.â His gaze flicks to the spear, then back to her. âItâs the âpeople wanting to kill you for what you protectâ part that sounds like my old job, just with⊠better props.â
Thereâs a beat where he studies her again, more openly now. The way she talks about it, like itâs fact. Like sheâs already accepted the cost.
âYou say that like it doesnât bother you,â he adds, not accusing, just⊠steady. âLike itâs already decided.â A slight tilt of his head. âThat you donât have anywhere else to go.â
Thatâs not something you say unless youâve already closed the door behind you.
He shifts his weight, shoulders easing just a fraction, tone softening in a way that doesnât quite match the hard lines of his posture. âListen⊠I donât need the full story. Not today.â He paused for a moment as he thought about it before making a face, shrugging. âHell, maybe not ever. You get to decide that.â His jaw tightens briefly before relaxing again. âBut Iâve spent a long time working with people who think they gotta carry everything alone.â
And I know exactly how that ends.
Elliot steps a little closer, not crowding her, just enough to make it clear heâs not standing on the outside looking in anymore. âYou woke up here,â he says, quieter now, more deliberate. âThat doesnât mean this place is all youâve got. It just means itâs where you landed.â
His eyes flick once more to the case beneath her hand, then back to her face, steady and unflinching.
âAnd for the record?â he adds, that familiar dry edge creeping back in just enough to keep things from getting too heavy, âIâm starting to think the payâs not the main selling point here.â
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it doesnât quite hide the sincerity underneath.
âYouâve got people here,â he says. âThat counts for more than whateverâs in that glass box.â
And if nobodyâs told you that yet⊠they should have.
He straightens slightly, rolling one shoulder like heâs settling into the role whether he fully believes in it or not. âAs for enemies?â a small huff of breath. âGood. Means I know what Iâm doing.â His gaze sharpens, something protective locking into place like muscle memory.
âYou keep worrying about the flying horses and ancient history,â Elliot adds, voice steady, grounded. âIâll handle the people who think they can take a shot at you.â
Then, softer, almost an afterthought: âYou donât have to figure all of it out right now, Addy.â
You donât have to earn your place just to keep it.