a reason to start over new - "Leverage" fic - PGish

[tigriswolf]

Title: a reason to start over new

Fandom: “Leverage”

Disclaimer: not my characters; quote from Emmylou Harris; title from Hoobastank.

Warnings: takes place between seasons; mentions child abuse

Pairings: Eliot/Hardison, Nate/Sophie

Rating: PGish

Wordcount: 2820

Point of view: third

Notes: thanks toredfirecrackerfor reading through this

Dedication:moonchildfic ; prompts were Hardison sees Eliot's scars for the first time and The team has to help Eliot recover from captivity and torture. 

 

 

 

He came out of nowhere, no shirt on his back, armed for survival, no plan of attack.

 

Eliot has a scar across his belly-button. It’s been there so long he actually forgot about it until Hardison’s fingers trail along his torso and catch on it.  Hardison traces it and Eliot shivers, bringing a hand up to touch Hardison’s smooth, unmarked chest.

The room is dark. Eliot mutters, “We doin’ this or what, Hardison?”

“Alec,” he replies. “Here, I’m Alec.”

Eliot’s assent is biting Alec’s shoulder and the scar is forgotten.

 

            Parker watches as Eliot changes from his normal clothes to the costume. He’d flicked his eyes to her hiding spot when he entered the room, but he didn’t say anything, so she stayed.

            She has seen naked men before, but not one so scarred. It fascinates her and she wants to touch, but Eliot is so skittish that even brushing up against him makes him tense and pull away.

            “No one likes a Peepin’ Tom, Parker,” he calls, turning to face her while buttoning his shirt.

            She drops down and smiles at him. “I like your scars,” she says. “Where’d you get ‘em?”

            He pulls his hair back and rolls his shoulders, loosening up. “I’m a retrieval specialist,” he drawls and smirks.

            She cocks her head, eyeing the shirt. It’s tight across his chest, clearly a size too small.

            “Eliot,” she says. “Just tell Nate you’re not going to—”

            He cuts her off. “I do my part.” He stalks up to her and she straightens to her full height. “If Nate needs me to go undercover, I go undercover.”

            As he passes her, she brushes his shoulder and he shifts out of reach. “That scar across your belly—where’d you get it?”

            He pauses at the door. “Hey, Parker,” he says, his tone making her tense. “Was it your daddy?”
            Parker’s mouth drops open. Eliot doesn’t look back as he stalks out.

 

            Sophie sips her margarita, watching the men on auction. Most of them ham it up, clearly enjoying the attention. Eliot is playing the part, but he isn’t happy. The women love his hunted look. Sophie knows he’ll sell for a lot.

            Their target has been nursing a glass of water all night. Her eyes haven’t left Eliot. She’ll take the bait here and while distracted, Hardison will do whatever it is he does and their client will get reparations.

            In and out, easy. Except as Sophie watches, Eliot’s hunted look turns haunted when it’s his turn. Sophie’s fingers tighten around her glass. Something isn’t right here.

            The bid starts at five thousand and Eliot’s face blanks. Finally, like planned, it comes down to Sophie and the mark. Eliot glances at the other woman and then Sophie before looking at the stage beneath his feet.

            Sophie wins the bid. She uses her own money instead of their company’s, and she takes Eliot out to dinner. He says nothing except his order throughout the meal and finally, once they’re back on the street heading to the car, he asks, “Why?”

            She stops, waits for him to look at her, and says, “I never saw you afraid until tonight.”

            Eliot’s face tightens. “I’m never scared,” he growls and stalks away.

            Sophie watches him go in silence.

 

            Nate paces around his office, trying to make a new plan. Sophie won’t explain why she didn’t follow through on their first, and Eliot—well, Eliot’s only spoken in monosyllables for the last day.

            When Nate thinks about it, he realizes something has been wrong with Eliot since they took this job. Nate pauses, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He’s read everything known about Eliot Spencer, which isn’t much. No one’s even sure if that’s his birth name. Nothing on record before his twenties. A few traffic citations, public disturbances. No jail time in the United States because there was never enough hard evidence, even if everyone involved knew it was him.

            Of the team, Nate knows the most about Hardison and the least about Parker. Until the David jobs, he’d thought he knew Sophie. But Eliot—even after they met in Beirut that first time, Eliot was a ghost. A lot is rumored of Eliot, speculated. Everyone is sure about only one thing: he doesn’t like guns. No one knows why, or even if he can use one. But he doesn’t like them.

            Nate could have Hardison dig deep, follow the scantest crumb to Eliot’s past. But such an invasion of truth—Eliot would never forgive him. Eliot would be right to never forgive him.

            Nate glances at the door. He needs to know why the plan went south, why Sophie didn’t follow through. If he can’t count on his team, he needs to understand why.

            He settles at his desk and picks up the phone. “Hardison,” he says. “I need to speak with Eliot. Find him, please.” As he’s hanging up, he hears Hardison grumble, “I ain’t no damn secretary, man.” He grins.

 

            Alec looks over to the window, where Eliot is staring up at the sky. Alec misses the office building; Nate paid for it, but Alec spent a great deal of time and money decorating it and setting everything up. The new place, it’s just not Leverage, the company. The whole team lives there, now. It’s big enough for everyone to have their own set of rooms.

            He’s waiting for the right moment to ask Eliot to move in with him, to share a bed for longer than one night. The hard part is already done: they live in the same house.

            “Hey, Eliot,” he calls when Eliot doesn’t react to Nate’s summons.

            “Yeah, I heard,” Eliot says without turning. “I just—”

            Something is wrong. Has been since they took this job. Alec pushes his chair back and stands, strides to Eliot. He doesn’t touch—he learned the hard way that Eliot has to initiate contact or else. He just stands next to him, waiting.

            “Alec,” Eliot murmurs after a moment. “Before your Nana, what was life like?”

            Alec shrugs. “My daddy died in a car wreck and Mama got picked up for trickin’. I lived the clichéd black man’s life, dude.”

            Eliot glances at him out the corner of his eye. “Were you ever—”

            “No,” Alec assures him quietly. “No one ever hurt me, Eliot.”

            “You’d tell me if someone had?” Eliot asks. There’s coiled tension in him; Alec can see him in the midst of a brawl, the last man standing. Before Eliot, Alec had never really understood dangerous.

            “Of course,” Alec lies. “I’d tell you.”

            Eliot nods. “I’ll go talk to Nate.”

 

            It’s been a long time since Eliot thought about his scars. Most of them, he remembers where they came from. If not the moment, then the place. The job. He stopped counting before he’d become a retrieval specialist. He stopped counting a while ago, in his stepfather’s house. His mother remarried a hard, cold man after Dad left. He hated his stepfather on sight, but Mom never asked how he felt.

            Nate’s going to ask about the job, he knows. But he can’t explain. He hasn’t ever explained, not to the police, not to the doctors.

            “Eliot,” Alec says behind him. Always Alec now. 

            “Yeah?”

            “We all have our issues, man.” Alec reaches out and Eliot moves into the touch. “So you don’t like bein’ auctioned off like a chunk of meat.” Alec squeezes his shoulder. “Just tell Nate. He’ll understand.”

            Eliot closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Find Parker for me—I owe her an apology.”

            He stalks into Nate’s office. He’s never talked about it, but these people, his team—family. They should know what they have living with them, what they’ve invited into their lives.

 

            Parker sneaks into Eliot’s bedroom two nights after the job goes sideways.

            “Hardison said you wanted to see me,” she announces.

            He sits up in the bed, naked beneath the covers. Hardison is curled up next to him, softly snoring.

            Eliot nods. “I’m sorry for what I said,” he tells her. “I had no right.”

            Parker shrugs. “It’s been a lot of men,” she says. “But Daddy was never one of ‘em.”  She turns to go, then adds, “If you hurt him, I’ll blow you up.” His quiet chuckle follows her out.

 

            Sophie finds Nate in the kitchen, staring at a glass full of whiskey. It’s nearing midnight but he’s still dressed, still wide awake.

            “Nate,” she asks. “What is it?”

            “The target is his stepfather’s sister,” Nate says. “He doesn’t think she recognized him; he’s changed a lot in the twenty-five years since her brother beat him into a coma.” Nate trails his finger along the rim of the glass. “He didn’t tell us,” Nate continues when Sophie can think of nothing to say, “He didn’t tell us because he thought he’d lose our respect. Can’t face an old woman, oh, Eliot Spencer must be useless. Let’s toss him out.”

            Sophie catches his wrist when he lifts the glass. “Don’t,” she says softly.

            He looks at her and lowers his arm. “There’s something else. Something he couldn’t bring himself to tell me.”

            Sophie nods. “I’ll see if he’ll tell me, Nate. Now, let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

            Nate follows her to bed.

 

            They don’t have sex, he and Sophie, though he knows she wants to. So does he. But he’s still not ready.   He hasn’t slept with any woman since Maggie and tonight is not the night.

            But she slips into bed with him, places her head on his chest, and whispers, “Sleep, darling.”

            He can’t. Not with Eliot’s words playing on repeat. Eliot had laid out the bare bones of the story, a stepfather who hated him, a stepaunt who knew, and a mother who turned a blind eye until—something.

            Nate had suspicions that made him want to raise the dead and kill them again, but “Mom finally dealt with him,” Eliot had said. “And after I woke up, healed up, I took care of myself.”

            He was so matter of fact, so that’s how it was, and I dealt with it, and I survived, and then he said, “I can still do the job, Nate. You just needed to know, and now you do.”

            Nate nodded. “I have a new plan in mind,” he said. “I’ll tell everyone tomorrow.”

            Eliot’s eyes flicked to the door. 

            “You can go now,” Nate said.

            At the door, Eliot had paused. “My name, back then,” he muttered without turning. “I—it was—”

            “You don’t have to tell me, Eliot,” Nate said quickly. “I trust you.”

            No one in their business, in hacking and grifting and hitting and thieving, knows Eliot Spencer’s real name.

            “My name was Spencer Adams,” Eliot told Nate and left.

            Eliot left something major out of his story, something worse than a coma.  He gave Nate his real name. With his arms around Sophie, Nate thinks about what to do with the knowledge.

 

            Alec wakes alone in bed. He stretches, yawns, and turns over to go back to sleep. He snuggles in close when Eliot returns, burrowing in as much as possible.

            “You’re like a cat or somethin’,” Eliot grumbles, but he doesn’t push Alec away.

            “Remember how you asked if anyone ever hurt me?” Alec murmurs into Eliot’s skin.

            Eliot tenses. “Yeah.”

            His fingers find that same scar from before. It spreads from one side of Eliot to the other, cutting across his navel.

            “Well, now I’m askin’ you.” He glances up to meet Eliot’s eyes. “Before you became a retrieval specialist, anyone ever hurt you, Eliot?”

            Eliot looks away. Alec moves his hands to cradle Eliot’s face. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But I’ll listen if you ever wanna talk.”

            He skims his palms along Eliot’s chest, feeling all the scars, the proof that, above all, Eliot survives. He follows his fingers with his lips and tongue.

            He’s wanted Eliot since the moment they met and he’ll stay as long as Eliot lets him.

 

            They finish the job and Eliot never comes face-to-face with his stepfather’s sister. Sophie tells him she’s there if he ever wants to talk, Nate sends him to some men that need to be beaten up, and Parker takes him on a small robbery. 

            Alec asks him to move into his room. Only Aimee had ever been so serious before, and Eliot says yes.

            Every night they spend together, Alec traces his scars, asking for the stories. Eliot tells him because Alec knows what he is, what he’s done, and so he has nothing to hide.

            Finally, Alec’s fingers find the worst, the oldest, the one scar for which Eliot has no answer. So he tells Alec, “I don’t remember.”

            Alec accepts that and the night moves on.

 

            Parker stalks Margot Hester for months. The old lady has little to take, but Parker wants to understand. Margot Hester did something or saw something years and years ago, something that still hurts Eliot. 

            “Hello,” Parker says, dropping in the window.

            Margot Hester shrieks and spins around, hands clutched to her chest. After gasping for a few moments, the woman says, “You were the nurse.”

            Parker nods. Margot Hester reaches for her phone but Parker gets there first. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she promises. Then she pauses to think and adds, “Unless you deserve it.”

            Margot Hester blanches like that’s no comfort. Parker supposes it isn’t. “What do you want?” she demands, sinking down into the armchair.

            “Do you remember your brother’s stepson?” Parker asks.

            The old lady flinches, eyes widening. “I had nothing to do with that!” she says. “That boy was a devilchild and Marcus needed to punish him.”

            Parker snarls, “What did Marcus do?”

            Margot Hester doesn’t want to tell her. After hearing it, Parker understands why.

 

            “Sophie,” Parker says, entering her room without knocking.

            “Yes, Parker,” Sophie replies, trying very hard not to sigh. She marks her page and closes the book. “What can I do for you?”

            Parker throws herself onto the bed. “We’re a family, right?”

            Sophie blinks and straightens in her chair. “Of course we are, Parker. Why do you ask?”

            Shrugging, Parker starts to bunch some of the comforter, smoothes it out, and bunches it again. “What does Eliot like?” she asks. “For a present?”

            “Parker.” Sophie uses her most commanding tone.

            “I talked to that Hester woman,” Parker says in a rush.

            “You didn’t.” She groans, “Parker.”

            “I know where he got that scar,” Parker confesses, one hand on her stomach.

            “What scar?” Sophie knows he must have dozens, at the least, but she’s never seen him unclothed.

            “Do I tell him I know?” Parker ignores her, turned somewhere inside. “He’ll be angry.”
            Sophie sighs.

 

            Nate knocks on the door of Sophie’s study, waiting until she says, “It’s open,” before entering. She has papers spread out on the table and half a dozen highlighters, each a different color.

            “You know you’re not a thief anymore, right?” he jokes.

            She smiles. “Half the fun was planning, Nate.” She sets aside the marker in her hand, looking up at him inquisitively.

            He takes a deep breath. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

            Sophie smiles again, wide and bright.

 

            Alec and Eliot are the only ones who use the pool with any regularity, and they don’t always wear swimtrunks. Alec never gets tired of watching Eliot cut through the water.

            He still wants the story of Eliot’s scar, the one that looks like it ripped him open. How he survived the wound, Alec doesn’t know. It bothers him to even think about, but his mind keeps picking at it.

            Eliot splashes him and Alec dives into the water.

 

            Eliot teaches Alec self-defense, how to duck and dodge and run. He shows him the basics of knife fighting, how to use almost anything as a weapon. The rest of the team stop in for some tutoring, too. Since he’s sure he won’t always be there for their protection, he’s glad.

            Those who live by the sword, he knows. He has reasons now, people to come home to, Alec waiting.

            He’s a survivor, but one day, there’ll be something he can’t survive. So he needs to teach his family how to take care of themselves.

 

            What Eliot didn’t tell Nate:

            He has no memory of the week leading up to his two-day coma. He knows his mother shot Marcus and then herself because the police told him so.

            But the dull throb in his gut, which healed into a scar bisecting his belly-button—he has no idea how it got there.

            Once he healed up enough to move without gasping, he left the hospital and vanished into the streets.

            He was fifteen.

 

            What Parker knows:

            Eliot likes horses. She buys him two mustangs, a buckskin and a paint.

            She never tells.

 

 

 

Comments

[moonchildfic.livejournal.com]

I...

*Squees in utter delight and then goes back to reread it*

Thank you! It's amazing and awsome and I love it.

At first the jumping between members was a little jarring but it actually added to it once I got used to it. Also, I love how Sophie made the job go south to save him and that Parker and oh hell, I love the whole thing!

[tigriswolf]

I'm glad you like it!