eliot’s the oldest. he doesn’t remember when he was born, or where, but he’s lived longer than he’s ever wanted to.
he finds sophie in the late 10th century. they revolve around each other for a few centuries, neither staying together or venturing too far apart. she saves him, once, and never lets him live it down.
they find each other when they dream of nate in the 1300s. eliot steals sophie away from the play she’d snuck into and looks away as she changed out of her trousers into a favored dress.
“do you know where he is?” she asks, like she didn’t get the same dream he did; nothing but grief, the night sky, the slice of a blade on thin skin, and then nothing at all.
“im thinking he’s north,” he says anyways and she raises an eyebrow. he sighs heavily and crosses his arms.
“the stars were a little off.”
“the stars,” sophie says, voice familiarly teasing.
“it’s distinct,” he grumbles and grabs her bag over his shoulder.
-
they find nate drowning in grief, killing himself over and over again. they spend a few years with him, living together, just to make sure nate lives through first a single day, then a week, then a month. they sit beside him as he cries for his son, for his wife, and help him rebuild on sand. it’s not the best, but it’s enough, and the glint in nate’s eye may be too hard, but at least it’s there.
-
eliot leaves, sophie stays behind. he can tell from the set of sophie’s shoulders that she’s going to force him into shape and eliot decides he won’t go too far, just in case.
when sophie runs, nate chases, and eliot follows behind to make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.
and it’s just the three of them for a long time. they don’t always live together, but sometimes they do; the three of them tucked away in some hole or in some overpriced hotel. sometimes it’s just eliot and sophie, breaking into parties and stealing whatever catches sophie’s attention. sometimes it’s just eliot and nate, eating cold takeout on a dusty floor trying to make peace with whatever it is they are.
-
it’s early in the 21 century when nate snaps. the world has always been nasty, but it’s becoming easier and easier to learn about it all.
his first con, fighting against the injustice of a child’s needless murder, swept under the rug to protect a ceo, is sloppy and reckless and eliot has to drag nate’s dead body away to safety until he can regenerate.
eliot’s furious. sophie’s furious. nate’s drunk. eliot can’t let nate go off halfcocked again, and so they make a plan.
the next con is good. the third is even better. soon they work like a well oiled machine. they’re not always subtle, but eliot’s long grown used to being the boogieman and so if he exists in some dark, hidden file tucked away amongst the world’s secrets, then so be it.
-
meeting parker was an accident. meeting hardison was intentional.
-
parker had been stealing something priceless, eliot kept swiping it out of her bag to put back. initially, he was correcting a wrong, but then it morphed into some kind of game between the two; and then parker started showing up on their jobs, squirreling something of his away when he wasn’t looking. a watch here, a walkie there. nothing that would get him killed, but enough that he’d notice. then one day he finds her in his apartment, eating plain cereal out of a box, sitting on his counter and all she says is, “you should get something more colorful next time,” around a mouthful of bran flakes. suddenly, their little group of three immortals grows by one mortal.
-
hardison tracks them down through the internet. he whistles upon breaking into their meeting place and raises his hands in peace. “y’all really need cyber security, huh?” eliot likes him instantly. gutsy, cocky, genius. the kid could be a huge asset. sophie’s excited to grow their little trio even further and nate, though clearly annoyed, does nothing but offer hardison a mocking salute and down his glass of whiskey.
-
they’re working together for three months before parker kicks her feet against eliot’s thigh until he looks away from the book he’s reading and up at her.
“what?” he asks gruffly and she frowns, bites her lip and presses it into a thin line.
“you don’t die,” she says. it’s not a question, but not fully a statement and eliot’s heart pounds in his chest.
“no,” he agrees cautiously. he could lie, but he hates doing that to strangers, refuses to do it to parker.
“how?” and eliot sighs, marks his page, and explains everything to her.
-
eliot tells nate and sophie what parker knows. habit tells them to run, but instinct tells them to wait it out, and when angry mobs don’t burst through their doors, and parker doesn’t vanish in the night, the decide it’s time to tell hardison.
hardison pauses for half a second, then finishes pushing the chip he’d been about to eat into his mouth.
“yeah, i know,” he says and eliot frowns, looks over to nate, who’s wearing a matching expression, and sophie, who’s eyebrows are high in surprise.
“you... know?” nate asks and hardison shrugs, leaning back with a wide grin that eases something in eliot’s chest.
“i was serious when i said you needed cyber security. most governments knew about you,” he says and eliot blinks.
“knew?”
“what,” hardison asks with a laugh, “you think i’d just let them keep the family secrets?” and eliot grows warm.
-
he hasn’t been close to a mortal since the early days of his second life. he’s a little terrified of how these two will ruin him, but he truly wouldn’t change a thing.
-
they’re in the middle of a con and parker is dangling ten stories in the air by her finger tips. her harness is secured around her torso, but it’s a little comfort when the harness itself is hooked onto nothing.
she can’t find any traction for her feet, any leverage for her hands to gain a better hold, and she looks over her shoulder at the thin grass below her. the team is in her ear and if they weren’t in their own danger they might be able to rescue her. as it is, she’s on her own.
taking a deep breath, she lets go.
she curls herself into a ball and hopes she doesn’t make a sound when her body crunches into the ground.
-
eliot’s exit is hot when he spots her. parker’s in a crumpled heap on the grass and without warning his eyes go up to the ledge he’d known parker had climbed out on.
unwilling to escape his pursuers and abandon her, he turns and fights and dies and fights some more, until he’s the last man standing. he runs over to her and skids to his knees beside her.
“parker? c’mon parker, wake up,” he says, tone tense and frantic. he can’t hear the others questioning in his ear, but he can’t focus on that. he finds a racing pulse and his hands roam over her body, checking for breaks or wounds. he gently feels along her neck, making sure the delicate vertebrae were aligned before he carefully picks her up in his arms.
“pull the van around,” he orders. “parker’s unconscious.”
there’s more chatter in his ear but all he can care about is the rise and fall of her chest.
-
parker comes to in the car with a sharp gasp and wince.
“what was that?” she rasps out, rubbing at her shoulder absentmindedly.
“that was a ten story fall,” eliot growls and parker’s eyes narrow in thought.
“huh,” she says and then gives a wild smile, “i’ve never fallen from that high before.”
-
hardison’s running.
he knows the rest of the team is somewhere nearby, but he’s lost his flashlight and gotten disoriented and is unwilling to disclose his own location to his pursuers by shouting for them. he can hear the sounds of crashing waves and he moves towards it, hoping that at least near the water he’ll be able to orient himself.
he’s just stepped into the small space between the forest and a cliffs edge when he hears debris snap behind him. he spins and sees the shadowy outline of a man holding a gun.
hardison takes a step back towards the angry ocean behind him.
“on your knees,” the man says sharply and hardison swallows hard. talk about a rock and hard place.
“you know,” he starts to say, but the sound of a gun cocking cuts him off.
“i’m not asking again.”
well. if he’s going to die, it’s going to be on his terms.
he twists, throwing himself backwards and he thinks he hears his name being called before the sound of a gunshot rings into the night air and he hits the water with a gasp.
-
eliot has just enough time to watch hardison fall backwards into empty space before he reaches the gunman. he knocks into the man like an unstoppable force and wrestles him to the ground. it’s a fight, but eliot knocks him unconscious before running to the cliffs edge where he last saw hardison.
eliot grabs the flashlight from his pocket and flicks it on into the dark waves below.
“hardison!” he yells and waits for a reply. his heart’s pounding in his chest and his breath catches in his throat. he wasn’t even supposed to be out here! rage makes his hands shake.
“hardison!” he shouts again. he can hear people moving in the woods behind him and he hopes it’s his team moving towards his location. he opens his mouth to shout again, when he spots him.
hardison’s belly-down, rising and falling with the waves, moving ever closer to the sharp rock wall.
there’s no time to get down there safely. eliot pockets his flashlight and jumps.
he’s able to angle his legs to slice into the icy waters and break his fall, but what he isn’t able to account for is the strength of the waves when he’s disoriented and trying to find which way’s up. the waves snatch him and slam him in every direction. eliot takes in a lungful of salt water when his head smacks into the wall, and everything goes black.
-
eliot wakes quickly. he struggles against the current and fishes his flashlight out of his pocket. he tries to blink the burning water out of his eyes and breathe as he looks around once more for hardison’s body.
he sputters as he’s shaken by the tides and then could shout when he spots him. eliot swims out to him, fighting with everything in him to reach hardison, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in anymore that he’s made it in time. he flips the man over and miraculously, hardison sputters, coughing weakly as more water splashes into his mouth.
“you’re okay,” eliot tries to say. “i’ve got you, you’re okay.” he’s not sure if he can be heard, but it makes him feel better nonetheless.
it feels like it takes years, but he’s able to keep them both afloat and pulled to the side, where eliot can drag hardison onto semi-dry land.
hardison’s still. so still.
eliot struggles to catch his breath as he crawls over him, leaning down and pressing a hand to his chest. his heart pounds in his ears and eliot shifts, readying his hands over hardison’s sternum. he rises to do the first set of chest compressions when hardison’s chest follows his hands, and then his whole torso is jerking as he coughs up water from his lungs.
relief sweeps through eliot so strongly he feels dizzy with it. immediately, his hands are on hardison, helping him elevate so he can cough without suffocating himself and eliot rubs his arms soothingly.
“you’re okay, hardison, you’re okay,” eliot says and he’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince.
-
when the immortals sleep, they have normal dreams. sometimes they’re nightmares, sometimes they’re not, but they’re never the inky splashes that indicate they’re viewing life through someone else’s eyes.
they don’t need to. they already found each other.
please,, how do they find out hardison is immortal?
continuation of this post! i used the rundown job as a basis for this BUT i still hope you enjoy it :)
he tried to send them home. he tried, but they’re too stubborn, too filled to the brim with loyalty (loyalty eliot doesn’t know how he could possible deserve, but is grateful for nonetheless) and when he watches them dig their metaphorical feet into the sand, he knows he can’t do anything but accept their help.
he tries not to think of the stakes on this one, but this is so much larger than anything he’d run with nate and sophie. this is- this is terrorism and eliot can’t stop thinking about how very human the people in front of him are.
when hardison tracks down an address, and both hardison and parker turn to leave, eliot feels something tight constrict in his chest.
“you’re staying here,” he says, voice tight and firm. there’s no excuse for the anxiety making his blood run cold; they’ve dealt with murderers, with kidnappers, with sociopaths, with warlords and crime bosses. they’ve been threatened at gun point, disarmed bombs, raced into danger without caring about the consequences - all because the world could be better and they wanted to make it so. but through all of that, eliot knew he could count on nate and sophie to help keep them safe if he couldn’t. and he’s alone now, with them, and he can’t stop thinking about how he’s made them both a promise to keep them safe.
above all else, he has to try to honor that promise.
so he plays dirty, when they start to protest, and stops them in their track with a soft, “please, just wait for me here.” he feels a little guilty for it, but that’s absolved when they physically slouch and nod.
“i’ll be back,” he promises and slips out of the van before they can reply.
-
he doesn’t feel the phone in his pocket vibrate while he’s working the man for information, while he learns the where and the when and the why.
it’s not until he’s finished, when he’s leaving the small house after cuffing the man to his own stair rails, that he pulls out his phone, intent to call hardison and parker and tell them where to meet him, that he sees he’d missed their call.
he’d missed their call three times. they left a voicemail and two text messages.
found bomb. then, can’t wait. meet us. there’s a string of coordinates and eliot’s heart falls to his feet.
-
there’s not enough time.
he tries calling them, but the phone goes straight to voicemail and he knows they’re already there, in the tunneled underground searching for a bomb that’s set to explode far too quickly.
he races across town, first in a car and when he hits his first stretch of congestion, he abandons it on the side of the road and runs.
one of them must’ve called in the threat, because the streets are being blocked off as several blocks are being fully evacuated. there’s a fiercely guarded line, that’s pushing gawking onlookers back further and further and eliot fights to the front and tries to look around the cops blocking entry.
he knows it’s risky, but leaving them down there is not an option.
he looks for a way around and spots a delivery truck nearby, climbs to the top of it and before anyone notices, jumps behind the law enforcement line. his ankle snaps at the landing, but he can’t afford to hesitate. he charges towards the building, ignoring the screams and shouts behind him. he hears the crack of a gun going off and feels the built bite into his back. he flinches but keeps running.
more hit him as he enters the building and he allows himself a second to fall to his knees as his back heats in healing, before pushing himself back to his feet and running to the stairwell.
it feels like it takes years to get to the tunnels under the building. he’s suddenly blinded as he leaves the florescent-lighted staircase and enters the dim tunnel and he breathes heavily.
“parker!” he screams. “hardison!”
“eliot?” hardison’s voice echos from his left and he turns, running towards the sound.
“get out! get out now!”
he can see them more clearly now. they’re behind an abandoned subway car. they look uninjured, but panicked. hardison takes a step towards him, but he’s looking back at parker- parker who’s kneeling beside the bomb like she might know how to stop it; like it’s a safe she’d spent her whole life cracking.
“go!” eliot shouts. begs. he’s getting closer to them now, he just needs a few more minutes to reach them and push them a safe distance away.
he’s close. he can do it. he pushes himself to go faster.
and then suddenly, parker jumps to her feet and shoves hardison, pushing him towards eliot. hardison stumbles and like deja vu, eliot sees the first time hardison stumbled when a bomb was going off. back then, eliot had been beside him, had been able to grab him and jerk him back to his feet, push him to safety. eliot’s hands burn with the memory and his own feet become clumsy.
he’s out of time.
parker throws her body over hardison’s as if that alone would protect him from the flames that suddenly explode outward.
eliot throws himself at them, is close enough to grab hardison’s wrist, when fire burns through him.
-
sophie is ghosting down the hall with sterling at her side when she overhears two agents talking together.
“something exploded in dc,” she hears and her heart immediately is thundering in her throat. she jerks to a stop and ignores sterlings startled, “what are you doing?”
“when?” sophie asks, grabbing the phone out of her purse and holding it tight in her grip.
“just now,” the agent says, eyes wide. “they think it’s a terrorist attack.”
“what?” sterling says sharply and sophie grabs the phone and puts it to her ear.
“nate,” she says, breathlessly and she hears him take a sharp breath.
“i’m coming to you,” he says and sophie nods, but moves towards the direction he’ll be coming from anyways. she can hear sterling talking to her, but she can’t focus long enough to understand him. her thoughts spin and race in her head and only begin to settle when she sees nate coming down the hall.
“we have to get to dc, now,” nate says, hands going to sophie’s back as he looks intensely at sterling.
“we can’t just get to dc,” sterling says, and she can tell his mind is racing as fast as nate’s does, can tell the moment he realizes why they have to get there.
“the others...” he says slowly and nate nods. sophie mirrors him, feeling like a vice has closed around her throat.
“i’ll... i’ll see what i can do,” he says with a heavy sigh and pulls out his cellphone.
-
eliot lives with a gasp, choking on dust and blood catching in his throat. he rolls to the side and immediately regrets it; his freshly made insides pull and pinch at the weak muscle and he tries not to groan. he breathes shallowly, despite the pain, trying to take in as little dust as he can while the previous events slot themselves into place in his mind.
his new heart cracks and shatters. he feels bile burn at his partially healed throat and a sob catches in his chest.
he curls tighter in on himself and tries not to think of the two people he loves most in the world in ash behind him.
-
sterling gets them to dc.
sophie doesn’t know how, and she doesn’t particularly care. all she can think about are the three members of the team that aren’t returning her phone calls.
they follow sterling tightly through the throngs of people and she wraps nate’s suit jacket around her shoulders, feeling exposed like a nerve. sterling flashes his badge and gets them entrance to the front of the perimeter. nate’s eyes are wild, red rimmed despite not shedding tears, and his breathing is erratic, coming out in sudden quick gasps.
sophie reaches out to him and grips his hand tightly as they peer over sterling’s shoulder to watch surveillance footage of eliot racing to a building that’s nothing but a smoking mess of debris.
“nate,” she says at the same time he lets out a strangled noise, low in his throat.
“hey!” sterling shouts, catching the nearest agent that isn’t rushing around with duties. “this man. did he come out?”
“i-” the agent says hesitantly, looking at sterling and then around for help.
“yes or no,” sterling warns and the agent shakes their head.
“no, no we haven’t seen any proof he left.”
sterling pales and nate’s grip on her hand has turned almost painful. her own fingers dig nails into his flesh.
“he... he wouldn’t have gone down there if... if they weren’t...”
sophie chokes on her sob.
-
eliot lets himself scream in agony, growling into his knees as grief saps all the energy out of him.
he should have been faster. smarter. should have had his phone on. should have sent them home when this whole mess started.
gravel rains down on him, echoing against the concrete below him, as the crumpled building settles above him. he tucks his head firmly against his knees and for the first time in years, prays for an end.
-
“we have to get down there,” nate says distantly, eyes far away. he takes a step back and sophie lets go of his arm. nate meets her eyes. “we have to get down there.”
he’s right; they can’t leave eliot to dig his way out, not after having just seen--
“we can’t just go down there,” sterling says, but not nearly as exasperated or sharp as he usually is. “the... the tunnel will have collapsed--”
“james,” nate says, voice suddenly strong and firm, but his eyes are still wild. “i need you to trust me. he’s down there and we have to get him first.”
sterling’s face crumples as he looks at nate but he sighs and nods. “i’ll see what i can do.”
-
if they go out far enough, the police presence is less and sterling’s able to get them into the tunnels with a flash of his badge and promise of reprimand if he isn’t obeyed.
the lights dim and they use the flashlights on their cellphones to create a narrow path of light. sophie walks next to nate, holding his hands tight in her grip and she feels like her heart is going to burst out of her chest with every step they take. sterling walks quietly behind them and some part of her aches at feeling supported by that action.
she likes sterling, they all-- they both do. but some part of her knows this will have to be the last time she sees him. she knows once they get eliot and bury whatever’s left of hardison and parker, they’ll disappear; vanish to lick their wounds and let the universe know they get it, they understand: the mortals are not for them to play with.
they reach the edge of the cave in and nate walks forward and starts pulling at the debris. sterling, after pausing a moment and shrugging off his jacket, joins him.
-
eliot’s laying on his side with his eyes closed, trying to muster up the energy to stand and find a way out, when he hears it.
a shuttering gasp of a breath.
his eyes snap open and he twists, his back cracking as his bones shift and relax from the position he’d forced them in. he pushes to his knees and holds his breath.
hardison’s finger twitches.
“hardison?” he asks in a raspy breath. his hand clenches tight. eliot scrambles over to him, all thought evaporating his mind. his knees bleed and bruise as he reaches with shaky hands for hardison. he touches his fist and lets out a shaky laugh as hardison responds to the touch.
“el?” he hears and looks up, looks at parker’s face scrunched in pain.
confusion and relief flood through him so sharply he feels dizzy with it. he collapses, catching himself on his elbows.
“you’re alive,” he says and feels tears burn his eyes and fall down his face. “you’re alive.”
with a trembling hand, he rests his palm against parker’s dirty cheek and does the same to the top of hardison’s head. hardison shifts and they make twin noises of pain that laces through eliot.
eliot will never live long enough to repay the universe for this.
-
sophie sinks to her knees as they dig and her chest feels split open. it feels like it takes centuries before they make entrance to the little pocket of dust and smoke and the smell of charred flesh and flames rush to escape past them.
“eliot?” nate calls out and sterling looks over at him as sophie gets to her feet.
“nate,” eliot replies and there’s a hysterical tone to his voice. sophie rushes forward, ignoring sterling’s questions.
“soph,” eliot says breathlessly from where he’s kneeled on the ground next to the others. tears are already flowing down her face and she tries to catch her breath when she gets to his side.
“what’s going on?” nate asks from behind her, voice rough in confusion.
sophie makes a noise of her own confusion when she looks behind her at him, but then follows his gaze to eliot... eliot who isn’t crying, who looks almost... relieved. without meaning to, sophie’s eyes dart down to where his hands are and sees parker’s face, screwed up in pain and notices hardison’s hand tight around eliot’s.
“how...?” sophie trails off and eliot shakes his head and shrugs, a helpless smile on his face.
“i don’t know,” he says, voice light and disbelieving. “and i don’t care.”
sophie reaches out and strokes hardison’s arm, runs her hand through parker’s hair. they both relax at her touch and she feels her own disbelieving laughter escape her in a huff.
“what is going on?” sterling demands, confused and angry and sophie looks over as nate smiles, looks upward and then over to his friend.
“i promise i’ll explain everything, james, just give us this,” nate says and he meets sophie’s gaze with a relieved smile.
The little airport bar is empty when Nate sits down at the bar. He’s got a blinding headache, but can’t tell if it’s because he needs a drink or if it’s because a vision is trying valiantly to push through the watery haze of his mind.
The bartender glances at him then looks at the early time displayed on the clock by the register before moving over to him.
“Morning,” the bartender says, stepping in front of Nate’s seat. “What can I get you?”
Unbidden, Nate Sees the bartender sitting down a drink, Sees himself reaching for it. Nate squints his eyes, feels the nausea rising in his throat and places his order distractedly. He wants to reach for the mini bottle in his pocket, but grinds his teeth at the urge.
“Do you, uh,” Nate starts, rubbing at his forehead, “do you know when the shuttle’s coming?”
The bartender already has his back to Nate, making the drink, but he looks up in the mirror and meets Nate’s eyes. “I’ll check.”
Nate nods his thanks as his drink’s finished. The bartender places a little black straw in the finished glass before walking away and Nate clenches his jaw at being able to see the drink, but unable to get it. It doesn’t take long for the man to return and he grabs the drink and a napkin, placing both down in front of Nate.
“Airport shuttle’s in fifteen minutes.”
He blessedly leaves Nate alone, walking to the other end of the bar to disappear from view and Nate takes the bottle out of his pocket and pours the contents into his glass.
Before Nate can even get the glass to his lips, a man rushes towards the bar, crowding into the seat next to him.
“I’m sorry,” the man apologizes and for a second, Nate assumes the man’s on the phone, until, “Mr. Ford, sorry. I’m Victor Dubenich. I know who you are.”
Nate glances at the coffee cup placed on the counter and then squints at the man. He moves quick, nervous and jittery. He starts gushing about what Nate used to do and Nate rolls his eyes and stares straight ahead, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave.
Nate used to be a gifted Watcher and while he wasn’t famous, he was known in certain circles as the man to go to if something needed found. Rumors would pop up that he was actually a Sniff, that he lied on his government forms in order to keep it a secret, that his abilities far outweighed the normal Watcher. None of it was true; Nate was a Watcher, he was talented, but a lot of his skills came from his understanding of humans and how people ticked.
He listens half-heartedly as Dubenich continues to praise him and his ability to save IYS millions of dollars when he goes too far.
“What happened to your family is the kind of thing—”
Nate turns, fingers tightening around the glass, and for the first time all morning, it feels like the pounding in his head abates.
“You know this part of the conversation where I punch you in the neck nine or ten times? We’re coming up on that pretty quick.”
Dubenich leans back in his seat but isn’t cowed. “I just want to offer you a job.”
“What do you got?”
Nate’s torn between annoyance and interest. He’s not sure if Dubenich is stupid or cruel, and despite himself, he wants to see where this is going.
“Do you know anything about airplane design?”
“I could give it a shot. You know, give me a pencil and one of those little rulers.”
“Somebody stole my airplane designs.”
“Oh, I see.” Nate says, cocking his head. Stupid then, he decides with a smirk. “And you’d like me to Find them, right? If you know so much about me, you know I don’t Find things anymore.”
“No,” Dubenich says quickly as Nate takes another drink. “I know where they are. I want you to steal them back.”
Nate looks over at him and furrows his brows in question.
“I have a team,” the man says, voice low, and Nate looks around at the empty bar but still gestures over his shoulder.
“Let’s talk.”
They move to a table near the windows and Dubenich pulls out files from the briefcase he’s holding. He talks in choppy sentences and Nate watches as Dubenich’s hands refuse to stay still. Nate listens, tries to focus, and sighs when he refuses to go to the police.
“Look at the people I’ve already hired,” Dubenich says, pushing a file across the table towards Nate. “Do you recognize any of these names?”
Nate leans back in his seat and opens the file, then leans forward with a frown. “Yeah. I’ve chased all of them one time or another…” he says distractedly as he looks over the papers.
These are government level documents; names, birthdates, aliases, associates. Nate flips through them and is settled when he realizes that they’ve just been compiled by a good PI and aren’t official.
His eyes skim over the pages. Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, Parker.
“Parker? You got Parker?”
“Is there someone better?”
“No, but Parker is insane.” There is nothing on this profile indicating Parker’s a Shift and that, more than anything, is what cements Nate into the job. There is a startling lack of information on these master criminals. Nothing on Parker’s Shifts, no mention of the Moves Eliot can make in a crisis, the bare minimum of Hardison’s hacking style. This civilian obviously has no idea who he’s dealing with and while Nate has never heard of any of these three betraying a client, he’s also never heard of them working for a civilian.
“Which is why I need you. I just need one honest man to watch them.”
Nate looks up from the file and there’s sweat along Dubenich’s hairline.
“Are you in?”
Nate doesn’t answer, but tries, again, to push Dubenich towards the police. “It’s not going to work,” he says, “the people you hired, they all have the same rep. They work alone, they always work alone. There’s no exceptions, and there’s no way they’re going to work for you.”
“No, they will,” Dubenich replies, voice taking on a desperate tone. “They will. For $300,000 each, they will. And for you, for running it, it’s double that. And it’s off the books, completely off the books. Look at me, I’m desperate here.”
Nate hesitates and Dubenich continues, “And that’s just a salary! There is a bonus. Pierson is insured by IYS. It’s a $50 million intellectual property rights policy. Mr. Ford, how badly do you want to screw the insurance company that let your son die?”
“Alright,” Nate bites out. “Where are they meeting.”
Dubenich passes him a sheet of paper with an address and time written down and Nate slips it into his pocket.
“Thank you, thank you Mr. Ford.” Dubenich says, hands in a flurry. “You have no idea what you’re doing for me.”
Nate nods, taking another sip of his drink. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
-----
They meet in the lobby of the empty building across the street. Nate walks in to see the three thieves already introducing themselves and smirks when Parker catches sight of him.
“What are you doing here?” she asks and draws the attention of the two men.
“No, absolutely not. Hell no,” Hardison says, throwing up his hands. “He takes a step towards Nate and then turns towards his gear, shaking his head. “I will not be victim to a setup. I said no.”
“It’s not a setup,” Eliot growls and Nate nods a greeting that Eliot returns.
“Sure, I’m gonna take your word on it. Who even are you?”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough Hardison,” Nate says, but Hardison makes a show of ignoring him, muttering his refusal as he packs his bag.
“Where’s my…” Hardison trails off and looks up to see Parker across the lobby tossing hardware between her hands. “Hey! That ain’t yours!”
Nate joins Eliot in the center of the room and the two watch as Hardison darts to Parker.
“You’re our mastermind?” Eliot says, looking away from the commotion on the other side of the room.
“Just this once,” Nate agrees. Eliot turns a sharp eye on him.
“So how’s this gonna work, huh?” Eliot asks under his breath. “Can you even See anymore?”
Nate stares at him blandly. “I don’t need to See to do my job.” He steps away from Eliot and pretends he can’t feel Eliot’s eyes drilling into his back.
“Parker, give it back. Let’s gather up, the quicker we do this, the quicker we walk away.”
-----
Nate sets up shop amongst the construction of an empty floor. He listens as the thieves get ready across the street, bickering softly in his ear and only after he gets his computer’s booted and small projector illuminating the far wall does he gets their attention.
“Guys, listen up. We’re going to go on my count, not a second sooner. Parker, no freelancing.”
“Nate, relax. We know what we’re doing.”
“On the count of five, four—”
“Aw, he doesn’t want to be our pal.”
“We’re on the count. Five,” he says again firmly, ignoring Hardison.
“She’s gone, Nate.”
Nate curses, dropping the binoculars. He should have Seen that coming. He paces in frustration and tries to ignore the discomfort turning his stomach. He hasn’t done much of anything since he blinded himself, drowning his ability in too much alcohol for it to handle, and doing a heist blind is something new. He shakes his shoulders and looks back through his binoculars, following Parker’s steady descent down the side of the building.
“Vibration detectors are on.”
“No cutting, Parker. Use the binary.”
He watches as she cuts a small circle in the glass and if he wasn’t watching, he would have missed the way her shoulders Shifted smaller to fit within the opening. He glances at his monitors while she moves through the building, double checking the layout as Hardison and Eliot get into the elevator shaft.
Parker shorts the elevator override and listens as the boys pry open the doors and climb out on their floor.
“Alright guys, show time.”
Nate glances back at the monitors and does a double take at the screen tapped into the guards office. The men are shifting around and their silhouettes are hard to track but something feels off. He leans in, squinting at the screen before straightening.
“You got any chatter on their frequencies?” he asks, looking at the schedule Hardison procured for them. “There’s eight listed on the duty roster; there’s only four at the guard posts.”
“Problem?” Eliot asks and Nate hesitates.
“Maybe,” he admits, “Run the cameras.”
“Got ‘em!” Parker says. “They’re doing their walk through an hour early. Why the fuck are they early?”
Nate answers without even thinking about it. “Because it’s the playoffs.” He looks back at the security feed. “Game five of the playoffs. They’re doing their rounds an hour early so they can watch the playoffs. Where are they?”
“They’re at the stairwell!”
-----
Eliot shakes his head in frustration and lowers the finger he’d been holding to his ear.
“How long’s this gonna take?” he asks, nudging Hardison and peering over his shoulder.
“I don’t know, man, it’s a ten-digit passcode—”
“Eliot,” Nate’s voice comes over the line before Eliot can say anything more. “I want you to clear the zone. Use Hardison as bait.”
Before Nate’s even finished talking, Eliot’s shrugging off his jacket and moving away around the corner, ignoring Hardison’s mumbling protests.
Hardison bounces on his heels as the scanner slowly works on the lock. Adrenaline floods through him and he cranes his neck to try and peer around the corner without moving. There’s a moment of panic that freezes him as the heavy thud of boots on tile rushes down the hall and he raises his hands as the guards round the corner with their guns drawn. His pupils flicker as the story he’s about to weave filters through his mind.
I’m just a janitor, he thinks. You’ve seen me for years. You congratulated me on my daughter’s wedding. His heart rate slows and his pupil stretches to consume his iris.
“Hey,” he says, Pushing the words onto the guards, “I’m just—”
Eliot slips out silently behind the guards and Hardison smirks despite himself. His pupil shrinks to normal size and the guards yell at him to drop the bag in his hand; he obliges with a wide smile, letting the straps roll out of his palm.
Eliot moves quickly, catching the first two off-guard and the next two before they even fully realize they’re under attack. Hardison isn’t sure if he imagined the near invisible pulses of a Mover, knocking a guard just off balance enough for Eliot to turn and punch the man in the chest, knocking him into the opposing wall where he collapses onto the ground unconscious. He tries to think if he read anything about Eliot being a Mover, or any kind of clairvoyant, but comes up empty. It doesn’t matter, not when Eliot’s standing in a hallway he’d just cleared of any threats.
“That’s what I do,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk and Hardison returns it with a nod. That’s more like it.
-----
They get the files and Hardison leaves a barren wasteland where their servers used to be. They’re on their way out when Parker’s voice comes across the line.
“Problem. Those guards you ganked, they reset all the alarms. We can’t go up.”
Hardison’s fingers tighten around the hard drive in his hand.
“Every man for himself then,” Eliot says with an amused tone. It’s the amusement that makes Hardison snap; the amusement that colored the tone of every older sibling he’s ever had, and in one childish moment, Hardison wants to shove him.
“Go ahead. I’m the one with the merchandise,” he argues and Parker, never one to be outdone, chimes in over the comms,
“Yeah, well I’m the one with the exit.”
“Enough!” Nate’s voice cuts through their chatter. “Now I know you children don’t play well with others but I just need you to work together for exactly seven more minutes. Now, get to the elevator and head down.”
They follow Nate’s Plan B and Hardison gets chills, forcing someone to believe a fictional narrative without even the hint of Pushing them.
Nate’s waiting for them in a car parked on the curb and as they move towards him, the three thieves move together in unison for the first time all night. Hardison slips into the front seat and waits until the car’s been moved into traffic before he looks around the car at his partners. He’s beaming and Eliot meets his eyes with his own muted smile. He looks over at Parker, who smiles widely at him as she peels the fake face off her cheek.
Nate’s deliberately focused on the road, but Hardison can see the tightness around his eyes has loosened. He leans back in the seat and resists the urge to exclaim into the night.
-----
Nate walks into the warehouse with double vision, like there’s a film over his eyes making everything a little fuzzy. There are people already there and he frowns at the confrontation as he moves towards the noise.
“You wanna tell me what happened with the designs?”
“What makes you think I know what happened? Stupid.”
“No, no, forget you man. You did it. Okay? When we were coming down from the elevator.”
“Yeah, that makes sense, doesn’t it? You had the file every second.”
“Now hold on, Cujo, I did my part. I transferred the files—”
“You better get that gun outta my face, or I tell you, I’m gonna feed it to you.”
Nate walks into view and sees Hardison holding Eliot at gunpoint, wrist twisted sideways like that might make him look serious. Eliot’s relaxed, with his hands in his pockets, and for a moment Nate wonders if Eliot’s been training; if he’s advanced enough in the few years Nate hadn’t seen him and is able to cast a shield over himself, but one second longer of evaluating the scene makes it clear that’s not the case. Eliot just isn’t afraid of the gun being pointed with trembling hands at his chest.
There was a run-in, with Eliot, nearly a decade ago. A low-level white collar criminal panicked at being face-to-face with the Eliot Spencer, aimed a gun at Eliot’s unprotected chest. Nate was quick to make himself known because, despite being on opposite sides, Eliot’s always been an ally, and the gun flickered between the two of them for a moment while Nate tried to talk the man down.
It was slow going, but it was Eliot’s words that caused pause: “The safety’s on.” The man’s eyes went to the gun and that was all Nate needed to grab the gun and step aside so Eliot could deliver one quick knockout punch.
Eliot has something like an eidetic memory and Nate has no doubts the man remembers that encounter, he just hopes it’ll play out like they need it to.
“Hey!” Nate yells and draws Hardison’s attention. Eliot doesn’t move.
“Did you do it?” he asks as Nate approaches them. “You’re the only one that’s ever played both sides.”
“Yeah, and you seem pretty relaxed for a guy with a gun pointed at him.”
“The safety’s on.”
“Like I’m gonna fall for that,” Hardison says and Nate follows the script.
“No, he’s right.” Hardison tilts the gun and the second diversion is all Nate needs to disarm Hardison.
“Are you armed?”
“You know I don’t like guns,” Eliot replies and Nate doesn’t even consider that Eliot could be lying.
Parker’s voice echoes when she steps into view with her own gun, pointed briefly at them and then up at the ceiling. She moves with a calculated, careful air, but Nate’s not fooled. Parker’s reputation is vast, but she’s not a killer. She doesn’t put up a fight when Nate slowly reaches for the gun and disarms her.
The three of them fall into an argument and Nate can’t stop the laughter building in his chest. They’ve been conned. These master criminals, conned by a civilian. His laughter echoes in his ears and then everything’s pieced together. The moment it clicks in his mind, a vision flashes weakly across his eyes. Fire, burning, the warehouse door not opening in time.
Nate’s eyes flash open and he sees the door from his vision.
“Get out!” he shouts and darts to the door. “Now!”
He presses on the opener and when he looks back, Eliot’s pushing Parker and grabbing Hardison, jerking him by his jacket.
“Go,” Eliot growls, shoving Hardison and looks behind them, taking a risky glance around the room, unsure of what Nate Saw but willing to fight the threat regardless.
Parker reaches the door, Shifting to roll under the space slowly revealing itself as the mechanics pull the door up. Nate’s heart races and he Sees Hardison trip a moment before he does in life, but Eliot’s there to grab him roughly by the arms and hold onto him as they both duck under the door.
Nate shoves a hand at Eliot’s back and Sees them all lying unconscious on the concrete moments before the explosion rocks him out the door.
-----
Nate comes to with a full body spasm. His eyes dart to the steady beeping of a hospital machine before roaming the room and spotting Eliot handcuffed to a chair by the window.
His skin looks sunburnt, but he’s uninjured. Nate looks down at himself and sees much of the same. If he were a gambling man, he’d have placed money down on Parker and Hardison looking similar.
Nate knows how close they were to the explosion, knows there’s no way they should have escaped that without injuries worse than skin irritation.
He knows what Eliot did, he wonders if Eliot does.
Parker’s voice comes from the vents, but Nate doesn’t assume she’s free.
Nate takes a second to orient himself to the situation at hand before dolling out orders.
She forces herself to vomit and Hardison winces in disgust; the doctor with a nurse rushes in, followed closely by the police guard. Hardison has half a mind to Push them, but he waits. He hates Pushing and he wants to see what Nate and this little team will do together.
They switch phones and Parker stands, free of her handcuffs yet again, and passes the flip-phone through the vent.
“They’re expecting a phone call, so let’s give them a phone call.”
-----
After switching cars two more times, they end up at Hardison’s apartment. He already has the various documents prepped for himself in case of emergencies, all he has to do is swipe out the pictures, change some names and pronouns, and within the hour he’s printing out new identities for everyone.
“You’re running.” Nate says simply and Eliot tucks the new papers in his jacket pocket.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re running,” Nate says again, but slowly, contemplating the picture of Dubenich pulled up on Hardison’s desktop.
“You got a better idea?” Eliot asks, moving like he’s ready to dart out the door.
“Yeah,” Nate says slowly, finally looking away from Dubenich to the rest of the room. “We can’t give this guy any time to cool down.”
“You want to run a play? You?”
“Yeah, well this guys the best kind of mark.” Nate’s defensive and turns to Parker and Hardison, like if they’ll side with him, Eliot has to.
Eliot isn’t going to go along with Nate’s plan blindly but Nate’s able to subdue every issue Eliot raises.
“Alright,” he says, moving out of the room. “Let’s go get Sophie.”
Parker and Hardison follow him.
“What the hell’s a Sophie?” Eliot asks their retreating forms.
-----
Sophie, it turns out, is a terrible actress. Eliot’s floored by the performance and is relieved he isn’t the only one who thinks so.
“She’s very awful,” Hardison mumbles.
“Is she injured? In the head?” Parker asks in a whisper. When Eliot looks over, Nate’s staring down at the stage with barely concealed happiness.
“Seriously, man, this is the worst actress I’ve ever seen.”
“This is not her stage,” Nate whispers back at them. “She’s the greatest Shifter, greatest grifter, the world’s ever seen.”
Parker shifts and Eliot raises a single eyebrow. This will be a train wreck.
Eliot waits by the car as Nate moves towards Sophie, clapping his hands and praising her. Sophie looks at him, then at the three of them by the car, and then back to Nate. They talk too softly for Eliot to hear, but he watches as the two smile and shift and finally, Sophie turns to the three of them and offers a small smile to the group.
Watching the way Nate fumbles around Sophie, the feeling from early returns strongly. This will be a train wreck.
-----
The team meets up the next morning back at Hardison’s apartment. Nate sets up the computer and slowly they move towards the couch to settle. Hardison sets out snacks and puts popcorn in the microwave, much to Nate’s annoyance. Eliot grumbles and shoves Hardison away from the kitchen and Hardison lets him take over, deciding to sprawl out on the loveseat.
Parker watches Sophie from across the room and pushes off from the wall once Sophie’s seated on the couch.
“So, you’re a Shifter, huh,” Parker says. Sophie looks up, but before she can say anything, Parker jumps over the back of the couch and sits on the edge of her seat. “Me too.”
Sophie beams at being trusted with that information.
“Wait, you’re a Shifter?” Hardison asks, leaning towards Parker. “I’m—”
“Move your feet,” Eliot growls, moving around the small coffee table to sit between Parker and Sophie.
Hardison doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Nate starts the briefing.
-----
Letting Sophie set the hook has Eliot tense, but he trusts Nate; and he’s confident enough in his own abilities that if Sophie doesn’t work out, if Nate really is just loveblind, then he can get out alive.
It turns out, though, that all his planning was unnecessary. Sophie introduces herself in a South African accent and has Dubenich hooked before she even leaves his office.
Eliot’s waiting for his cue in an empty office, but he catches a glimpse of Sophie as she leads Dubenich out of the building. Her face is long, angular, with eyes light as honey.
He doesn’t have time to think on it before he hears Parker over the comms say, “We’ve got someone from IT on your floor.”
He walks to the assistants desk and is able to watch Parker slip down a vent far too narrow for a human.
He’s never known Shifters that could move like this. He wonders if Nate knows what he’s collected here.
-----
Hardison’s the one who started the pool game, but then the files he was downloading became ready and Parker got bored once she realized Eliot noticed when the balls were swiped off the felt, and it fell down to a half-hearted game between him and Nate.
He’d been waiting all evening for a moment alone with Nate. He wants to know what Hardison is, wants to know if Nate knows what Sophie can really do, what Parker can do. He’s almost certain Nate knows he has some faint ability to Push, but not even Eliot is sure how to use it, so it doesn’t really count. He’s not an asset like that. Any of his previous employers would be all over this knowledge, would get drunk on the perceived power of having this many clairvoyants working under them – but Nate’s an honest man and Eliot doesn’t know how to bring it up.
“You look better,” Eliot starts, “than when we started.”
The conversation only goes down from there. He makes the mistake of mentioning Nate’s son, of offering his condolences too late.
“Eliot,” Nate says shortly, cutting Eliot off of the poor joke he’s making to try and dig himself out of the hole he’s in. “You and I are not friends.”
“Right,” Eliot says and can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. He’s known Nate for almost a decade, shared safe houses in a pinch and saved each other’s lives any chance they could. Eliot didn’t assume they were buddies, but he’d thought they were friends. “Right, ‘cause you have so many of ‘em.”
Sophie had been listening to the mess of a conversation and moves to defuse the situation too late. Eliot disappears as she approaches and she steps into Nate’s space, angling her head towards him.
She’s Unshifted, face bare; she feels safe with Nate and hasn’t been intentionally Shifted around him in years. Not that it ever really mattered; he used to be able to identify her anywhere.
She smiles at him, trying to put him at ease and ignoring the brushoff he’s attempting to give.
“C’mon, Nate, please.”
The blush that burns across her cheeks is real when he brushes away her hair and tucks it behind her ear.
She’s missed him, and more importantly, she agrees with Eliot. He is looking better.
-----
Dubenich arrives early to their stolen offices and Nate orders Parker to get Sophie to the lobby before the whole plan comes crashing down around them. Parker looks down the stairwell, sees Eliot jogging up the last flight, and peeks into the hallway.
“Sophie,” she stage whispers and beckons as Sophie moves to her. She tosses a harness to her and runs a quick eye over the rig to double check it’s still hooked up right. Parker looks back over Sophie and grabs the straps, pulling them tighter and then brushes her hand over Sophie’s shoulders.
“Can you take these in a little?” Parker asks, hooking the harness up to her own.
“What?”
“Your shoulders. It’s easier if you’re smaller.”
“I can’t just,” Sophie sighs, exasperated and frightened due to the proximity she is to the open space between the stairs. “These are my bones, Parker.”
“I know they’re bones,” she says as if that was obvious. Sophie just continues to stare at her and they don’t have time for this. She just sighs and pulls them closer together.
“Hold your breath,” Parker says softly and smiles.
“Wait, you can—”
Parker jumps.
-----
The rest of the heist goes off according to plan and when the FBI arrives, Sophie shifts them some jackets and they move in and out of the building with ease. They gather files and slip off with the evidence unnoticed.
Nate reaches for his phone and experiences another rare vision. Pierson, standing in the empty office building across the street from his own, overlooking the city.
Satisfied he’s choosing right, Nate makes the call.
-----
Walking into the building gives off the vaguest sense of Deja Vu and it settles him, deep in his belly. As awful as his ability is, there is something satisfying about seeing a good vision come to life.
-----
Nate leaves the building and Hardison flanks his right, Parker his left. Eliot joins them and before he realizes, he’s stumbled upon Sophie waiting for them on a bench.
They make a compelling argument. The least he can do is hear them out.
where is my fic with the nate and eliot background stories? i mean they’re buddies in the pilot. reluctant (on nates end) buddies. on the kfmonkey blog they say nate “caught hardison, never caught parker. technically worked parallel to eliot several times, chased him a few” and then in the pilot we have the whole pool table scene?
“listen, i’m sorry about your kid” “you dont know anything about that” “everybody knows. a guy like you goes off the street, a lot of people notice” okay this tells us a few things. eliot knew about nates personal life before they meet up-- he had to have known to be comfortable enough to offer his condolences, unprompted and years later.
so wheres the fics where eliot and nate are NOT working together they’re just. holed up together. and theres a lot of grumbling and sassing and “i will arrest you” and “before or after i knock you unconscious” but then, they’ve settled down into companionable silence. it’s late, they’re both waiting for the dead of night to make their move and nates watch beeps, three soft little beeps and eliot glances at his own watch to check the time before he looks over at nate. “what was that” and nates reply is quick, “nothing.” eliot stays silent and nate continues after a pause, “it’s my sons birthday” “you have a son?” eliot asks, and nate hears the unspoken, why arent you home? “he’s three. four now,” nate says into the dark “there’ll be plenty of birthdays for me to be at when he’ll actually remember them”
or the time when nate’s on eliot’s tail and he’s so close to catching him red-handed, but when nate bursts into the hotel room where, according to all his sources, eliot should’ve been in, all his finds is a neatly made bed and a toy fire engine, resting on the sheets with a post-it note that says ‘for your boy’ on it. eliot never finds out if nate took it home or left it there, but that doesnt stop him the next time he’s walking past a toy store and sees a black and white soccer ball sitting in the window. he thinks of japan 2002, and he thinks of losing nate in a crowd of ecstatic brazil fans.. he grins to his reflection in the glass and buys it, leaving it behind for nate’s son with a cheeky message.
and what about when nate loses his son. and the art criminal underground sits up and takes notice. eliot, at first, assumes it was an accident. just. a horrible accident. but then details start to emerge. the ford boy was sick, they say. some say it was cancer, some say it was a birth defect. a bad lung, a bad heart. some hear he had meningitis as a baby and it all spiraled from there. but theres one thing he learns, his death wasnt an accident and it was preventable, if only someone could afford the bill. eliot wishes he’d known. wishes nate had told him his boy was sick. eliot has all this fucking money... he wouldve given it away. donated it anonymously, wouldve bought the kid another day if hed known.
almost like they were paying respects, no one moved IYS merchandise until after the funeral. payments were halted, plans were paused, giving nate imagined reprieve, because despite the man, a lot of criminals were fond of him. but, debts need paid and work began as usual once the boy was in the ground.
but nate didnt come back.
he didnt come back and didnt come back.
and the bad criminals took notice. then the Bad(tm) criminals took notice.
and eliot has enough debts to cover, he has enough issues of his own to deal with. but he overhears a plan and maybe his stomach clenches in angerfeardisgust because the man just lost his son, lost his wife....
eliot thinks of all the times nate let him go. thinks of all the times they worked side by side and raced to get intel or merchandise. thinks of the one time they stumbled upon each other and eliot was bleeding sluggishly from a wound he couldnt reach to suture and nate sewed him up before leaving in the night.
eliot has enough on his plate. and it will be another two years before he even sees nathan ford again, let alone decides to work with him, but when he’s mercilessly beating the goons looking for nates address he makes his point perfectly clear. anyone looking for nate ford will be answering to him
as someone who works with an earpiece in but also has to deal with customers, i really would love to see a fic of just, the leverage crew out in society practicing and learning how to exist with 4 other voices in their head because there is a learning curve of being able to focus on what youre saying, on being able to focus on what someone else is saying to your face, on being able to focus on what is being said in your ear.
just, to see the crew out trying to buy groceries but they’re all in different stores having conversations and just, working at being “normal”. the long pauses, the stuttered misspoken sentences, the angry blushing???
okay why haven’t I talked about the actual finale... Nate would have had to have driven the van off the bridge. his story would have fallen apart immediately if they found out he lied about that, if he simply drove into the river and not off the bridge, they would’ve known he was lying immediately. and because of the police chase, the crew wouldn’t have had time to either escape the van afterwards or help plant the evidence. so he would’ve been the only one in the car.
now, imagine hitting the water the way he did. alone. the van hitting the water, his head hitting the wheel, then maybe the window. the seatbelt digging into his chest and he’s confused, hurting, choking on the water rapidly filling the van.
maybe, through bleary eyes, he sees the fake sophie, limp in the passenger seat. maybe, for a moment, he doesn’t remember the con.
maybe it hurts to turn his head, but he does, and around the water flooding the van, obscuring his vision, he sees hardison, can just make out eliot just past him. the dark water looks darker as it rushes past them. looks red.
no one but him moves.
maybe he forgets the con, and all he can think is oh god. not again.
they’re able to pull him from the van before he drowns and he’s in the back of an ambulance, watching the rescue crew pull out limp, unmoving bodies.
maybe he feels like he’s trapped behind glass. maybe the ringing in his ears is because of the head injury, maybe the ringing in his ears is because he’s in sam’s hospital room.
maybe “i made a mistake” slips out of his mouth, ragged and broken and he’s lucky he’s not screaming. i made a mistake. i made a mistake.
maybe he’s in shock, maybe it’s fight or flight and the paramedics don’t know — he doesn’t know — which one he’s acting on. so they sedate him and he wakes up in an interrogation room.
maybe for the first few moments he can’t remember what’s real, not until the details, the facts start surrounding him and while he chases the feelings he’d just had, the feelings he had when he lost them, he feels such relief his breath stutters in his chest when he remembers the con.
part 1 of a little leverage ficlet that @spyderinej and @chadlesbianjasontodd seemed interested in lmao if i get the whole thing finished ill post it to ao3 but for now, enjoy number one
I.
They’re finishing up a mission, four hours south of Boston. It was a simple mission, as simple as their missions can get, but a hard one nonetheless. Eliot had taken a few hard hits and he’s sure he’ll have an impressive spread of bruising on his torso tomorrow. Sophie had been captured with Nate, but Parker has taken the lion’s share of danger.
Within two days, she had been chased, shot at, and taken an unharnessed climb up a nine-story building to save the mission almost single-handedly.
Eliot doesn’t wait for the rest of the team before heading back to the van. His face is already beginning to swell and he doesn’t feel the need to gloat like the others do; he doesn’t need the satisfaction of seeing the mark’s face, he knows what he’s doing is making a difference and that’s enough.
So, it’s a surprise to find he’s not the first one back at the van. He slides the side door open and pauses when he sees Parker already sitting in the middle bench. She grins at him, showing too many teeth and looking near feral. The tremors that run through her body aren’t easily hid and Eliot identifies the issue: adrenaline rush.
“You gonna stand there all day?” Parker asks and the tremors that run through her body take hold of her voice too.
Eliot climbs in the seat beside her and pulls the door shut.
“How're you doing?” he asks, carefully watching the way she seems to vibrate in her seat. Parker scrunches her nose at the question and even though Eliot’s sure she knows the crash is coming, her eyes are bright and excited.
“Oh, I’m great,” she says with a cocked brow. “How’re you doing?”
“Oh, I’m great,” he mimics and she snorts a laugh. That brings a genuine grin to Eliot’s face and despite the pain, Eliot can’t force his face neutral.
He’s aware they’re both lying, but Parker has Eliot’s respect instinctively, in the way the others don’t quite yet. He understands Parker and he thinks, if he lets her, she could understand him.
He’s prepared to be cheesy, to give her the acknowledgment that without her this case would’ve failed, but before he can get the words ordered in his mind, the backdoors open.
Bright light filters into the semi-dark of the van and Eliot squints, heart pounding and fists clenching on instinct.
“Oh, damn,” Hardison says, letting out a low whistle which settles Eliot’s racing heart. “What in the hell happened to you?”
Hardison climbs in through the back and settles in the final row of seating. Eliot narrows his eyes in lieu of rolling them and shifts to face the front.
“What do you think happened,” he says, well aware Hardison heard every hit through the comms. In his peripherals, he can see Sophie approaching the passenger seat and he sees Nate passing Parker’s window towards the driver’s seat.
Hardison leans forward as the car starts, long arms extending over the seat and tapping Eliot on the shoulder with the backside of his hand. His other hand rests against Parker’s shoulder- effectively placing himself between them.
“Ya know,” he starts, grin in his voice, but then pauses and looks over at Parker. “You’re shaking.”
At Hardison’s tone shift, Nate’s eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and Sophie looks over in her seat.
“I’m fine,” Parker says, waving off the concern, but she is shaking, harder than before. She’s crashing and Eliot wishes they had a blanket or something for her to hold on to. He’s tempted to shrug off his jacket and drape it over her, but he knows she’d like that as much as he would. The only thing he can do to help is back her up and bring the attention off her. She’s a big girl, she’s taken care of herself for a long time; if she needs help she’ll ask.
“Hardison,” Eliot says, softly but firmly. It gets his attention and Hardison’s dark eyes are on him. “She’s fine.” He tries to put as much sincerity into the statement as he could. It seems to work, because Hardison gives her one last look before retreating to the backseat. Parker gives him a grateful smile and something in him wants to say something soothing like, get some sleep, Parker. He bites back the urge and clenches his teeth; this team is making him soft.
But, like she could hear him anyway, Parker slouches in her seat and leans her head against the window. The muscles in her jaw are tight and Eliot’s sure she’s fighting back nausea or a headache, or both, though he hopes for her sake it’s not both.
Eliot stops watching over her, almost certain Hardison is, and closes his own eyes. His ribs ache and he focuses on taking easy, shallow breaths.
The van rumbles soothingly underneath him and he can hear Sophie and Nate talking softly to each other. He lets himself relax; he’s safe, here, in this smelly van with four other thieves. A year ago, hell, six months ago he never would’ve believed that.
He lets the sounds of their conversation flow over him as he drifts. He can hear the sound of Hardison fingers moving across his keyboard, a gentle tapping that usually would irk him, but today just serves as another reminder that someone’s watching his back.
He doesn’t know how long he spends half-asleep, but he’s startled awake by the van jostling sharply. Poor roadwork causes the van to shake and bounce its way down the road and it takes a moment for Eliot to catch his bearings.
Parker’s head rocks from side to side before it slides down the seat and rests on his shoulder. Eliot stiffens and pinches his lips together; a hand raises to cup Parker’s head to keep it from bouncing as best as he can.
“Hey,” he growls towards Nate. Sophie is the one to acknowledge him, but only to smile fondly at them before returning her gaze out the window.
The van stops bouncing suddenly, and without the constant jostling, Eliot’s too aware of the weight of Parker against him.
Tension pulls his shoulders tight and straightens his spine.
Instinct and habit almost have him launching Parker across the van. He restrains, but only just.
“Hey, man, relax. It’s a girl, not a bomb.” Hardison’s grinning; Eliot’s positive he is and the knowledge makes him want to tackle Hardison to the ground and teach him some respect.
“It’s not a girl,” Eliot replies, looking at the blonde hair spilling over his shoulder. “It’s... Parker.”
He knows Hardison is smirking, can practically feel the humor radiating from behind him. He frowns, a wrinkle forming deep between his eyebrows and something in his chest tightens. The urge to shove her off and remove himself from this situation is strong, but knowing it’s Parker is stronger. Eliot shifts, wincing as the movement tweaks the aches in his ribs, and lifts Parker’s head off his shoulder slowly. With a gentleness he uses exclusively with bombs, he maneuvers her off and away from him, guiding her until she’s leaned against the window.
He can see Hardison watching them from the corner of his eye and he wants to be annoyed at the surprise he sees there, but instead he withdraws carefully from Parker and settles back down on the other end of the row. Holding Parker the way he did, at the weird angle he did, put a lot more strain on his ribs than he wanted and white flashes dance across his vision for a moment. He presses his hand to his side and breathes slowly until the pain is back to being manageable, but he keeps his eyes closed.
Hardison has gone back to tapping at his keyboard. Sophie is singing along to the low radio under her breath. Parker shifts in her sleep to get more comfortable. Eliot keeps his eyes closed and breathes.
okay but also I really need a fic where eliot is sitting in the food truck passenger seat, smiling, beaming, feeling filled to the brim with light. because his dad is proud of him. and wants to see him again. and it’s so much more than he thought he’d get. (because he always imagined it cold and dark. imagined being shut out and ignored with the only option of leaving his pleas and his sorrow through the cracks in a closed door).
but then, unbidden, tears are running down his face and he’s not smiling anymore and he doesn’t even know when it happened. between one heartbeat and the next, he’s choking on air around sobs he’s desperately trying to keep silent and breanna goes stiff beside him, putting her feet flat on the floor and sitting ramrod straight.
its too late to hide, but still he tries.
he stands abruptly. the truck swerves as parker looks over and reaches for him but he twists to avoid her reach and pushes through the curtain into the back.
harry is sitting in one of the office chairs and sophie is leaned against breannas desk. they look up when he enters. he wishes he could jump out the back.
harry opens his mouth and eliot can hear the whisper of a word forming before sophie cuts him off, pushing his shoulder and straightening.
“go,” she orders softly and harry moves without comment. eliot moves with him, they barely touch shoulders as harry moves into the cab and he doesn’t know what’s happening, feels like he’s free falling, until sophie wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him close.
“its okay.” she says, and he grips onto her shirt, holding on like a child. “its okay, eliot.
and he cries. he cries for the 18 year old who lost his mother and his father. he cries for the man who was welded into a weapon, who was used for atrocities he can’t even fully talk about. he cries for the 32 years, lost. he cries for the mother he didn’t get to say goodbye to. he cries because his dad got to meet parker and sophie and breanna and harry. he cries because his dad didn’t get to meet hardison. he cries because his dad hasn’t met hardison yet.
he doesn’t know when sophie maneuvered them onto the floor but when he comes back to his body, they’re situated together and his knees ache, his back aches, his shoulder aches, but he feels better.
it takes him a few moments of silence before he realizes the truck isn’t rumbling under them and unease sinks into his gut because he didn’t notice-
but then he breathes in, because sophies arms are still wrapped around him and he knows, even if he can’t hear them, parker and breanna and harry are keeping a lookout.
sophie seems to know when he noticed the truck is off and she rubs her hand across her shoulder before leaning back.
“parker pulled off at a rest area,” she says. “gave us a little privacy.”
us. like it wasn’t an act done solely for eliots benefit. us because they’re a team and a family and if one hurts, they all hurt. if one heals, they all heal.
sophie gives him the space to ground himself and when he’s ready, he pushes himself to his feet, wincing at the pain and stiffness in his joints. he holds out a hand and helps pull her up. she looks at him fully, for the first time, and raises her hands to his face, wiping away the remaining wetness lingering under his eyes and she gives him a small nod in silent question that he returns. she smiles at his silent answer and drops her hands and moves gracefully towards the front of the cab, as if she hadn’t just been crumpled on the floor with him for who knows how long.
eliot waits a moment before following. he shakes out his shoulders and rubs out his knee. when he pushes away the curtain dividing the cab from the mobile office, he watches his family through the window; watches parker and breanna sitting on a park bench talking, watches harry leaned against the hood of the truck people watching, watches as sophie stands unnoticed surveying the same scene.
something solid and warm settles in eliots chest, a feeling so deep he hadn’t even realized he was cold before.
eliot steps outside and thinks of laughter, of dusty vents, of the heat of a computer, of the sounds of knives on a chopping block, of a bar and a brewpub and an abandoned jazz bar. of pretzels and robot bodies.
