Man I Used to Be #12
Title: Man I Used to Be
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: Whoohoo! Two chapters in one week!
Banner by the wonderful and amazing and brilliant cybel
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Chapter 12
There was a jostling, and he awoke to find himself in unexpectedly familiar surroundings. Eliot was on the other end of the couch, face turned away, but watching him sidelong like-
Like he's expecting me to attack, Alec realized, horrified.
But then another second ticked past, and he looked again, and Eliot was staring at the bookshelf across the room, miles away, evidently exhausted.
Or maybe he's just waking up, too.
Another minute ticked by, and neither of them had spoken yet, and it was starting to get awkward.
Alec gave first, dragging a hand over his face. "Yo man. Sorry. Didn't mean to pass out."
"It's cool," the words were spoken through a clenched jaw. "Kind of late." On the chair, serving as evidence, the laptop screen was black.
Shaking the last of the sleep from his head as he yawned, Alec could only agree.
But something wasn't adding up. Something was off.
Other than passing out and probably drooling all over your shirt? Standing, he picked up the dishes to cover for the mortification of being caught sleeping in class, and headed for the kitchen. He was upending the empty bottles in the sink to drain when he realized what he'd had wrong.
He'd seen Eliot wake up a hundred times, now, thanks to the security footage. Saw his eyes flash open, sharp and aware, always alert. He never looked as tired and worn as this. Maybe it was the painkillers, though judging by Eliot's expression, either they hadn't been working too well, or they'd worn off.
And if that was the case, it wasn't too likely that he'd fall asleep sitting up.
Judging by the time, he'd sat there, awake, for well over an hour, apparently unmoving. His ribs had to be killing him, by now, and there was no way he wasn't smart enough not to know that he should have been in bed, lying down, taking some of the stress off. But he'd just. Sat there. Probably waiting for your ass to wake up
Alec huffed his annoyance to the trashcan. Supposed to be coming over her making sure he's sorted. Not making it worse because he's too polite to kick your ass out.
He headed towards the bathroom, needing a few minutes to think before heading back to face Eliot. Eliot who wasn't usually so polite, so quietly patient.
It wasn't that he was the sort to whine, or anything, but he'd bitch and grumble plenty. A head cold was usually enough to make people to keep their distance, but injured? At least one of them should have been shouting hours ago.
Something's actually wrong with him, he hated himself for the sudden realization, but he wasn't sure it because all this was happening in the first place, or because he hadn't seen it coming.
It wasn't like he hadn't seen plenty of evidence pointing in that direction, on the video, in that room. In the hospital. He should have known about it by now.
Seriously.
---
Eliot waited until he heard the car start out front, before moving to stretch out on the couch. It was still warm, where Hardison had been sprawled.
It wasn't helping. And it didn't change anything.
He'd listened to the end of the game, knowing all the while that he should have been waking Hardison up. Going up to bed to get some real sleep, not sitting there, aware of little besides the feeling of gravity, of sinking into Hardison's space. The solidness of his body. It hadn't felt weird, then. Not like it did now. Not by a long fucking shot.
He'd extricated himself cleanly the moment he sensed Hardison moving, had already been at the other end of the couch, deliberately dazed and unaware, but he'd felt the eyes on him, the awareness.
He wasn't sure he'd been caught out, but Hardison had knownsomething was off, even if he didn't know what. That much had been glaringly apparent. And the kid was smart. He'd figure it out eventually.
Probably before Eliot himself did. He was narrowing it down, though. Embarrassment, mostly. Guys didn't do that sort of thing. Well, some did. But not him. Even now, even with all the things he'd started admitting he'd wanted. Emasculation had never been on that particular list, and hell, it shouldn't have even been in his vocabulary, but there it was, in flashing neon lights.
If this was how it felt, maybe he needed to rethink some things again. And maybe it- guys weren't actually his scene, maybe it had all been just a fluke. Some sort of midlife crisis, or something.
---
Alec browsed Wikipedia's articles on PTSD and related entries until the words wouldn't string together properly anymore, and then he read some more.
He laughed into his pillow, later, listening to the countdown in his head, when he finally recognized the sound for what it probably was. Stopped laughing when he realized it didn't seem to be an instant cure, and turned the idea over, considering the angles.
Maybe if he hadn't watched those videos. If he hadn't hit his head. If he'd been able to go more than half an hour without having to think about any of it.
But wishing was pointless, didn't solve anything at all, so Alec reined it in. Put it in a box labeled Really Shitty Month: side effects may include insomnia, aural hallucinations, ongoing feelings of helplessness and failure. The lid wouldn't shut as tightly as he wanted it to.
And the ticking was still there. Always there, in the background, keeping him awake, like now, and following him into sleep.
Except, apparently, when he was crashing on Eliot's couch.
C'mon, man. Admit it. The couch has nothing to do with it.
And that sucked, because he had a suspicion that he knew what did, and it was a hell of a lot more complicated than an overstuffed piece of furniture.
---
Alec slept in, spending most of the day wading through the data again. He might have gotten somewhere with it if he hadn't been distracted every ten minutes by the phone that sat next to his mouse pad, silent.
It was just past eleven when it actually rang, and Eliot's number flashing on the display might as well have read commence feeling of pervasive doom now.
"Hey, got a question for you. I was messing around earlier, and turned the wireless on, but the only networks that show up were locked, and then I remembered I don't have a modem. Or whatever."
Just a tech question, then. Nothing serious.
"Uh, yeah." He sat up straight, rubbing at his eyes and blinking towards the hallway. "You want me to come over there and set you up?"
"Uh," he paused, probably checking the time. "Nah. It can wait."
"Right on. I'll get it sorted. Just let me know when."
"Cool. Thanks." Alec thought that was the end of it, was getting ready to hang up, when Eliot continued. "So, uh. How's it going?"
"Aw, man, it's been a really good day for bad data, and that's all I'm sayin'. What about you?"
"I'm fine. Had another doctor appointment this morning. Parker just left, think I bored the hell out of her, though. Slept most of the day." It felt like a strange thing for Eliot to be saying. Like it meant something more, like he was trying to tell him something.
Or that Alec was just becoming paranoid enough to make it mean something. His own reply, "good, that's good" sounded a little terse in response. "Unless that means you're going to be up all night, now."
"Nah. Gonna turn in pretty soon, here."
"Right on. Me too."
---
It was nearly six the next evening the next time his phone rang.
"Monopoly," Parker said, leaving him trying to remember if that was one of their current emergency code words, but he was fairly certain that this month, they were going with a nautical theme. Which had been a silly idea anyway, completely impractical when even he was talented enough to translate "I just ran into a friend from home, and we're going out for coffee," into "I think I've picked up a tail, warn the others." But Sophie had insisted, right at the outset, and they'd all been playing along ever since. But that was neither here nor there.
"What? Are you okay?"
"No. Yes," Parker huffed. "I'm fine. I meant we should play Monopoly. It's raining outside, and there's nothing to do, and Eliot's not feeling well, so we should go over there and you need to take a break. Nate told me so, yesterday. Said you were going to wear yourself out if you didn't."
"I was supposed to go over to Nate's tonight, talk to him about stuff." Explaining that the city of Pittsburgh's servers were down for the weekend and that it would be at least twelve hours before he could get to the data wasn't anything that he couldn't manage in five minutes over the phone, but it was close enough to the truth to serve as an excuse.
"I wouldn't," Parker warned. "I just came from there and he and Sophie were arguing. I'd wait a few hours. And during those hours, you should come over and play Monopoly. I'll bring soda!"
She hung up on him before he could get another word in, and he was left considering his options.
If he went over there, he could get a read on Eliot. See where his head was at, because in another day or so, Alec would have enough material to present to the team, and by the end of it, they'd probably have something resembling a plan in place.
And he hadn't heard from Eliot all day, anyhow. For all he knew, no one had. Digging the phone out of his pocket again, he made the call. If his suspicions were correct, he'd need the warning.
---
Parker was waiting on the front steps, Monopoly board under one arm, a case of orange soda hanging heavily from her other hand, when he opened the door, and Hardison pulled up not two minutes later.
Watching them shed jackets that they apparently didn't need in the frigid hallway, Eliot followed them into the kitchen and asked, "Nate and Sophie coming?"
"No," Parker answered, kicking the refrigerator door shut. "They were fighting, so they don't get to play."
Hardison set his bag down in the corner. "You know what it's about?"
Eliot snorted, forcing himself to take a deep breath, deciding that pneumonia might not feel so bad by comparison. Retrieving the bowl of popcorn from the counter, he set it on the table, tugging his sleeve back down his arm as he took his seat. "Probably the usual. Hardison, Parker brought that soda, it's in the fridge."
Parker was already handing him a can. "Thanks," Hardison said. "That sucks."
"You'd rather they were both here mooning over each other and being awkward? I can't stand awkward people." When Parker opened the box, Eliot wasn't surprised to see that she'd replaced the play money with real bills. He sat down at the kitchen table and tried to remember how the game worked.
"So what do you want to be?" he asked Parker. "The car?"
"I don't care."
Eliot exchanged looks with Hardison, whose raised eyebrows indicated that he wasn't the only one in the room expecting her to have a set-in-stone opinion on the matter.
"Fine," he decided. "I'm the car, then."
---
The competition was vicious, with Hardison eventually emerging victorious. It had been slow going, as conversations had broken the game play far too often. Trading stories about heists that had gone well, each trying to outdo the next. In that department, Hardison came in dead last.
Eliot spoke for the first time in a while, his voice quiet. "It's just 'cause you don't get your ass away from your computer long enough to make it out the door."
"Hey man, I get around," he replied, haughtily, realizing how that had probably sounded. "I came over here and kicked both your asses at Monopoly. Just wait until we're playing Snakes and Ladders, though, cause I rule at that game."
Parker was glaring into him like she was trying to preemptively figure out his game strategy, and Eliot was smiling, tracing his finger absently through the condensation ring left behind his water glass. There was tension at the edges of the expression, though.
Parker noticed it, too, her head swiveling to follow Alec's gaze. "Your shoulder bothering you?"
"Yeah."
"That sucks. You want us to leave?" Parker asked, hesitating, hands hovering inches above the game board. Alec checked the time. It was almost eleven.
"Nah. Distraction's good. Hang on a minute, though. Gonna go grab my meds."
---
Another half hour, and Hardison had set him up with internet, scrawling instructions for troubleshooting on a notepad. Eliot didn't honestly think he needed it, it wasn't like he was doing anything that complicated, but he half-listened, and nodded in all the right places. Rolled his eyes at Parker a few times.
It wasn't uncomfortable, really, as it probably should have been, with Hardison leaning over him to point things out on the screen. But it wasn't like he knew what he was doing with computers, that much, at least, had never been a secret.
It was business as usual, actually a little boring. He'd been missing that.
By the time the others cleared out, the painkillers were working well enough that he was asleep within minutes.
---
There was no reason, in 2009, for anyone not to know how to restart a computer. Even Eliot. And there was no reason he had to call about it in the middle of the damned night.
"So this thing?" he began, once Alec answered the phone, "I was trying to open another window in Explorer, and the screen froze. What should I do?"
Shaking his head, because he'd been waiting to hear impatient complaints, demands for information, for answers that were, in all honesty, long overdue. "You try restarting it?"
"Yeah. Just did the same thing again when I went back online."
"Okay. That's an old laptop, and it could need a new update or something. In the meantime, get it restarted and run the virus scan. It's on the startup menu, if you-"
"I can read," Eliot growled. "Hang on." A few moments later, he said. "Okay, it's going. Look like it's going to be a few minutes."
"Okay." Alec nodded, and changed the topic to why Eliot had actually called. "So, check it. Finally got enough to call the team together. Nate's planning on tomorrow at his place, but it's not finalized. Tomorrow morning work for you?"
"I don't know, see. I was going to go rock climbing, but I think I can squeeze it in." There was a pause, then, less sarcastically, "You mind picking me up?"
"No problem, just be sure to wear something nice." Hearing how that had probably come out, he grimaced. "I don't want you trailing dirt and grit and that chalk stuff all over my car. I'll call when I'm on my way over."
"Okay. Oh, hey, look like it's found something. It's giving me a prompt. Do I just read it and follow the instructions?"
"And here I was, thinking I was the only genius in town."
---
Eliot hung up the phone, groaning as he reached to place the laptop on the nightstand, but the painkillers were finally starting to kick in enough that he had a chance in hell of sleeping, at some point, and all told, he was feeling better than he'd felt all day.
And maybe the conversation had something to do with it, his brain supplied, but he stomped on that train of thought before it could gain a foothold. Moratorium thusly imposed, he burrowed back under the covers and let his eyes droop. He had things to do, in the morning.
---
"…So what we've got, here, what we've got, are some low level, low mobility guys. They're tied down, with house payments, families, car loans, whatever. If they were going to run, they would have done so by now, but they're still in the area. We can afford to give it a few days," Nate decided, turning his head to examine Eliot, still standing by the door. "Give Sophie time to get back from New York, let Eliot rest up. Alec, you've got another couple of days to work on the third unknown."
"I'll be fine."
"Humor me." Turning briefly back to the group, he stated, "And this time, we're flying. And Eliot?" His eyes searched out Eliot, standing near the doorway as was becoming usual.
You don't look so good. You take your painkillers?"
"Yeah," Eliot grumbled, obviously annoyed.
"Okay," Nate raised his eyebrows. "You need to go home. Hardison, you about ready to go?"
"Yeah. Just let me pack my things, man. Three minutes."
"I'll be in the car," Eliot edged the door open and stepped out.
Nate waited a few moments, watching out the window, before asking, "Hardison. You know what that was all about? Why he wouldn't come in?"
"I don't know, man. Could be hyper-vigilance. Guarding the door or something." It was the closest he'd come to admitting his suspicions, and it was making him nervous. Nate, though, judging by the tilt of his head, had apparently been thinking along the same lines.
"He's not guarding the door," Parker interjected, shoveling more cereal into her mouth. "I think he's keeping his escape open." She finished chewing, swallowed, and added, "That's what I would do. If I was him."
Dreading the answer, Alec asked, "Nate, man. You think it's something we need to get into?"
"He's gonna hate that," Parker warned.
"I wouldn't. No. Not yet. Just. We'll keep an eye on it for now. See how it goes."
"I hate to bring it up, but. You seriously think we've got the time to wait? That no one's going to come around looking to tie up loose ends?"
"If they do, I'd rather it happened here."
"You're weird," Parker said, and as much as Alec would have liked to agree with her, he was suddenly certain that Eliot was down on the street, being forced into the back of a truck in broad daylight. He needed to get down there.
Alec hurried to shove the last of his things into his pack, and darted towards the door. "Parker, you need a lift?"
"No. I've got some stuff to go over with Nate," she ducked underneath the couch, dragging out a roll of blueprints.
"What're those for?"
"Security plans for Eliot's house."
"He doesn't have a security system."
"Exactly. Want to have a good system in place before we tell him, though, so he won't be able to argue with us about it, so don't spoil the surprise."
Alec nodded from the doorway, looking between the two of them, and wondering whose idea it had originally been. He ran down the stairs and out the door, feeling relieved first, then foolish, when he saw Eliot sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, glaring at passing cars.
---
Hardison was quiet the entire ride home, his mind apparently elsewhere, and for that, Eliot was thankful.
Because he was about seven seconds out from a massive freakout. He could keep a hold on it, though, until he was back home. Behind closed doors. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't sure if it was because he had that much control, or because he had no idea where to start.
It was rush hour, and the street outside Nate's building had been busy. True, it meant there were witnesses, but around sunset, people's vision was usually at it's worst. Including his own. He couldn't track them all, couldn't tell if he was actually being watched, or just paranoid, but the sensation had been there , ever since they left.
It had gone away, for the moment, but he suspected it would appear again by the time they pulled up his driveway. They'd been gone a long time. If someone had been watching the place, waiting, it would have been a good time to make a move. And he hadn't even thought about it until now.
He focused on it for the rest of the drive. It was the only thing he could really do to prepare if something was actually going to go down, and it definitely beat the alternative.
Nate's obvious whatever that was, earlier. Talking like Sophie was actually part of the reason for delaying the trip to Pennsylvania. Like Hardison needed more time, when he clearly had the answers already. He'd been looking right at him when he'd decided, hadn't even made the effort to pretend not to know.
Dead weight. Bad enough that you're useless, but now it's affecting the team. You're slowing them down.
He tried not to think about it, tried to concentrate on the rest of the meeting. With the exception of Sophie, it was the first time they'd all been in the same room together. Back at Nate's place. It should have felt different.
He'd caught Hardison laughing at something Parker said, rummaging through Nate's kitchen drawers. Relaxed, like there was nothing hanging over him, like nothing in the world was wrong.
And it's not like the world wasn't the same normally screwed thing it had always been, but it wasn't one that Eliot had any chance of joining any time soon. He wanted to, at least he was supposed to want it, but he didn't now how, yet.
So he'd kept watch from a distance, and it had felt vaguely ridiculous, like he'd been spying on them through a window, but it had beat the alternative, being in the room, with the rest of them. Joining them like he had a reason to be there, and waiting for someone to realize he didn't. Bearing the brunt of their scrutiny as they assessed their newest charity case.
But he didn't have time for that now, he had to plan his approach. Hopefully, anyone waiting, poised for attack, was in his living room, or better yet, the kitchen. The gun was still stashed in the hallway. He'd get some of his own back, maybe. Scare the hell out of the others, probably, but he'd be fine.
When the house proved to be empty, he wasn't even relieved to find that all his planning had been for nothing.
---
Eliot had been in such a shitty mood, after the meeting, that Alec hadn't expected to hear from him. And he hadn't, not until he was crawling into bed.
He'd wanted to know about bouncing his web mail to the laptop's mail client. Alec still wasn't sure exactly where it had gone after that, though he vaguely remembered browsing the web to find out if calls to tech support were listed anywhere as a PTSD diagnostic.
Mostly, he'd just rambled on, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, trying to guess when it would be, exactly, that Eliot got fed up enough to hang up on him.
Alec woke in the morning with the phone plastered to the side of his head, and had to plug it back into the charger to find out when it was, exactly, that he'd hung up. A little after one.
By noon, endeavoring to kill off a little more time, trying to shake off the weirdness of the call as he wandered through his apartment, he'd checked the mirror to find that the marks on his face had finally faded.
There was nothing more they could do until they actually landed in Pittsburgh, and if he didn't stop spinning his wheels, he'd end up in even more of a rut.
---
He was buying a drink for Lisa's girlfriend, who had a birthday that night and a name that he couldn't remember, when a hand grasping his shoulder from behind almost made him drop his beer.
"Alec!" Ron had probably had a few, judging by his tone, which was even more jovial than usual. "Finally crawling out from under your rock, I see."
"Hey man, what's up?" He collected the drink, and nodded back to their table, inviting him along.
"Not much, just work. Getting the house ready for Lee's family, coming to visit. He's cleaning now, so I thought I'd get out of the way of the storm. Waiting for James to come down, gonna shoot some pool. Oh, and just so you know, when you see him. He didn't get the job at Intel, so don't say anything." Alec nodded, not having any idea what Ron was on about.
Been out of the loop longer than you thought, man.
"Right on." Nothing substantial was said for a minute as the table erupted in happy birthdays and how've you beens, and Alec was about to start explaining to Lisa that Rose Tyler was alright, but she should really hold out for Martha Jones before declaring her undying allegiance, but Ron was leaning in again.
"So, Alec. What ever happened with, ah. Edward?"
He'd spent all day spinning his wheels and getting nowhere, but he was fast deciding that maybe it didn't sound so bad, by comparison. "You mean Eliot?"
"Him too. He the reason you've been missing in action?"
"After a fashion. Not like that, though. Work stuff."
"Oh. So. Like that, but twice as awkward, then."
You don't know the half of it. He really didn't want to talk about it, because he hadn't thought about it, really. Much. Just a little bit.
And it kind of sucked, but whatever.
Because yeah, and he knew he was being plastic, here, but Eliot was a good looking guy, when he wasn't walking around like he expected the ceiling to fall on him at any moment.
Wasn't just that, though. The guy was smart. Had a good head on his shoulders. Alec trusted him.
But he wasn't stupid enough to think that was enough.
The guy was in a screwed up place, for one. Probably would be, for a while. And while Alec had given it some thought, here and there, moving in on him was an epically bad idea.
For one, it seemed a little fucked to be thinking about Eliot like that when he was nowhere near being able to deal with it.
He would never claim to be an expert on the matter, but he missed the old Eliot. Not that they weren't the same person, but sometimes, like yesterday when he'd been lurking at the edges of the room, trying to blend into the woodwork, it was hard to be certain.
And it all really felt a little opportunistic, maybe forced, when he thought about it. He knew him. They were friends. And maybe it was convenient, but convenient didn't mean right. Didn't mean that he was Eliot's type, or that Eliot was his. If something were to happen, it would only come out of some bizarre sense of duty. Alec didn't date much, but he wasn't that hard up.
If life were a movie, it would be easy. They'd barely tolerate each other at first, move up to sniping, which, now that he stopped to think about it, wasn't that far off. Then tragedy would strike, revelations would be had, and they'd fall into bed before living happily forever after. The movies missed lots of little details.
Like how Eliot had been clearly weirded out about the mere idea of being with a man, and that had been before he'd been kidnapped and banged up and fucked with. Or how, as far as movie heroics went, Alec had been weak in the saving-the-day department. Even now, he was starting to hear that damned timer counting the seconds again.
So what if the guy had nice hair, and the edges of his mouth were distracting? Details like those were hard to appreciate when worrying if Eliot was going to be able to make it up the stairs without falling. If it was the painkillers that were sapping his appetite, or if it was some early symptom of pneumonia.
And if Eliot knew, if he ever found out Alec was thinking that way? It would be twice as pointless to even consider it.
How he was supposed to explain all that to Ron, he didn't even know. He was relieved beyond words when James arrived in a flurry of small talk to drag him towards to the pool tables.
Alec was left at the increasingly drunken table, with his attention was starting to slip, and the beer wasn't tasting as good as it had twenty minutes ago.
He forced himself to play along for a little while longer before rising to make his excuses, something he was getting better at, and say his goodbyes.
He'd barely made it out into the cold night when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He considered not answering. Not dealing. But he slapped a grin on his face, anyway.
"Eliot, my man! What's up?" He stepped aside to let a half dozen screaming women pass through the door. One of them had suckers attached to her shirt. A bachelorette party, then. Good a time as any to clear the hell out.
Apparently Eliot heard the shrieking. "Where are you?"
"Out," Alec answered, pulling a face. "Just leaving the bar." You know, the one where you outed yourself? The one where I used to be able to go to get my mind off things? Yeah. That one. Alec really wished he had anyone else's skill set. Parker at her worst couldn't make this more uncomfortable.
"Oh." There was a pause on the line. Apparently, the awkwardness was infectious. "Well, I just had a computer thing, but it can wait. I'll let you get going. Um. Have a good night."
"Yeah, okay," and on any other day, he'd actually break down and find out why Eliot kept calling, because really, it was getting ridiculous, but his heart just wasn't in it. Not now. "Still on for tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Just finished packing. Anyway," Eliot repeated,"have a good night."
"You too."
---
He'd slept for shit last night, and all the coffee he'd consumed that morning had worn out hours ago.
Eliot grit his teeth as he got himself situated, sitting by the window in first class, and forced himself not to snipe at Parker when she jostled his arm as she fastened her seatbelt.
He watched Nate's head disappear into the row ahead, and Sophie was across the aisle. She'd barely spoken all afternoon, and hadn't even looked in Nate's direction once. Even Parker, flipping through the SkyMall catalog at Eliot's side, was quiet, contained. No one had said much of anything, since they'd arrived at the gate, not really.
No one except Hardison, who was shoving his pack into the overhead bin and still going on about the hand driers in the airport's restroom, being his usual obnoxiously energetic self. He wasn't even showing any signs of having a late night.
Not that Eliot was looking. It wasn't like he'd spent too many hours wondering if Hardison had gone home alone.
But he was starting to get really fucking bored with the other topics open for consideration. The strap of the sling rubbing his skin raw, or the shoulder that made him useless. The length of time it took him to get up a flight of stairs. Never being warm enough, not with two pairs of socks on and three shirts. His kitchen, at night, having him jumping at shadows because there was probably still enough left of him to break if he didn't. The suspicion that Nate and the others saw it, too.
By comparison, the knowledge that Alec Hardison had a normal social life was fairly goddamned innocuous.
Ain't none of your business, man. Leave it be.
Yeah. Tell me how that's workin' for ya.
He really needed to focus. They were finally moving, the plane backing away from the terminal, and soon they'd be arriving, getting their game in gear.
Finally fucking doing something.
He tried to be enthusiastic about the entire thing, and as long as he ignored the likelihood that he'd be doing nothing more than sitting on the sidelines, it worked.
He had another two weeks, probably, of fucking around with the sling. Of shoving ice packs on it every few hours, even though the swelling had already gone down, for the most part. With the ribs in the mix, it would be another month before he could actually start physical therapy. After that? Still too fucking long before he was up to form.
As the plane turned down the runway, he took a breath and rolled his shoulder against the back of the seat, trying to will the blood to flow back into his arm, willing the slight numbness away. Took a deep breath, too, because he hadn't done that in a while, and held it as the plane gained speed.
---
When he'd set up the reservations, it really hadn't seemed like it would be that big of a deal. But that was yesterday. Today, Alec took his time cleaning up, not wanting to go back into the room and find Eliot, eyes on the door, planning his escape. Kansas, all oer again.
He'd already showered, though, and brushed his teeth. Unless he wanted to shave, he was fast running out of justifiable delays.
Hurrying back into the room to stash his things, he to keep his eyes off Eliot, lying on the bed, still awake. His prescription bottles were on the nightstand, next to the remote and a root beer from the machine down the hall.
Running out of things to do, he grabbed his pack and hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "Gonna head down. You coming?"
"Nah." Eliot brandished his new ice pack with a tired grin. "Think I'm just gonna see what's on TV. Order room service later if I decide to eat."
"A'ight, cool. Back in a bit."
---
Alec was starting to lose steam. He'd been talking almost nonstop for nearly an hour, and had barely managed to eat any of his dinner before it had gotten cold. But he carried on.
"And last, but not least, I've just confirmed our best prospect. Name's John Warren, ex-Army, police academy washout, single, no kids, three cars. Warren, here," he continued, swiveling the laptop around so the others could see, "has his main gig with Crandall Security, they handle big events. Concerts and football games and fundraising galas, mostly. But about a month and a half ago, he started depositing cash amounts six times his usual paycheck. Fits the timeline perfectly."
Parker nodded. "So why are you just finding this now?"
"Had to wait for him to actually be logged into the HR system so I could confirm the match- there are thirteen John or Jonathan Warrens in the metro area. Went in this morning and tweaked the duty roster so he'd have to come back and fix it. His shift started about the time we got here, and he was fixing the error while we were ordering our drinks."
"That's cutting it a little close, isn't it?"
"Hey." Alec scowled in annoyance. "I had two solid profiles on our other guys days ago, but ya'll weren't ready to hear it. This one just took longer to confirm, but it's the best lead we've got. He was on the original list, but fell off the radar because he wasn't also on the unemployment list. When I overlaid the two maps, his address popped up smack-damn in the middle."
Sophie shook her head in confusion. "How do the maps figure in again?"
"Because if there's a physical location where they all met up, or a bulletin board at a grocery store or something- you really want the details?"
"Ah," she smiled, biting her lip. "No, thank you."
"So we've got three suspects instead of one," Nate cut in before the conversation fell off the rails entirely. "Good work, Hardison."
Sophie nodded, but she still wasn't entirely sold. "All three probably know our faces. They know our reputations. They'll see us and run."
"Faster than bullets?" Parker offered, frowning in confusion at the looks that met her suggestion before turning back to her increasingly large pile of shredded napkin.
Nobody wanted to be the first to agree with her. No one wanted to be the first to disagree, either. Nate, when he spoke, looked reluctant. "Look. I know this isn't just another case, but we're not killing anyone." His measured gaze searched out each of theirs in turn. "Unless you have to," he muttered, downing more water.
Presentation over, he closed his laptop, finally got around to voicing his main concern. "We know he's going to recognize us, and that if they've done any preparation-"
"If they're at all prepared, if they know who we are, they'll be expecting us to come in sideways. Yeah." Nate frowned in satisfaction. "So we're going to take the front door. Throw him off, come at him in broad daylight." He nodded to himself for a minute, before asking. "So. We know where he's going to be working tomorrow night?"
Ten minutes later, assignments in hand, they paid the tab and made their way out of the restaurant. Parker left first, heading across the parking lot back towards the hotel, with Nate following behind, more slowly.
"Yo Sophie, hold up," Alec called, sliding the files into his pack, next to the laptop. From the expression she wore, it was clear that she was anticipating what he said next. "What's going on with you and Nate, anyhow?"
"Short version?"
"Yeah."
"He." She looked out the window after him. "It's silly. I stopped over at his apartment last week, and found him researching new clients. He began telling me about them, trying to figure out how we could get working on them, being as how we're a man down."
"Yeah?" Alec wasn't surprised, and tried to figure out where the problem was.
"I thought. And I know better, now, but it seemed to me at the time that he was giving up on Eliot. Just tossing it all aside."
"And now?"
"When I was in New York, I had some time to think it over. He needs things he can actually fix. He needs control. He wasn't in a position to obtain either, with Eliot's situation." Sophie smiled, self deprecatingly. "Because it's all been up to you, so far. The rest of us are just tagalongs."
"Not anymore, though. Soon as tomorrow night comes, it's on."
Sophie hummed her agreement, pushing through the doorway, and he had to hurry to keep up.
"So. Right. I get all that, but. What were you doing in New York? Why did you leave?"
"Because sometimes, Nate and I are more similar than I'd like to admit."
---
Wired, like he always was when the plan had been set, Alec was disappointed to find the room dark when he returned.
It was still too early to sleep, though apparently Eliot was of a different mind. As wired as he was, he'd only end up staring at the ceiling, nodding along to the ticking in his head. And he really needed to do something about the lethargy that hadn't let up since they'd landed.
Hauling his pack into the bathroom, he closed the door before turning on the light and changing into his swim trunks. Pulling the track pants up over them, he shoved the key into the pocket and grabbed a towel from the rack, before sliding out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs.
He still had an hour or so before the pool was closed down for the night. Down at the other end, kids were shrieking, splashing around. Their parents shot him apologetic glances, in between trying to snap photos of the melee.
He hadn't been swimming in a few months, but after diving in, and a few awkward strokes, he found the right rhythm. He tried, for the first few laps, to match the beat in his head, but he couldn't keep up. A few more, and the timing of his own pace was starting to take over, moving in and replacing it.
Finally.
He swam until his eyes began to sting, but by that point, he was probably tired enough to get upstairs and get some sleep.
Stepping out of the water, he heard the door closing, down by the other end of the pool, and scanned the room to find that he was the last one out, and the only one in his head.
He took his time drying off, and didn't hurry back to the room.
---
The burger that room service had sent up was dry, and the potatoes on the side were watery, but Eliot finished them. Actually felt good, afterwards, a little more awake. But the idiotic documentary on Shaolin fighting was starting to grate on him.
Hardison still hadn't come back. It had only been an hour, or so, but Eliot was starting to think that maybe he should have gone down, listened to the plan, whatever it was. Even if he was sidelined on this one, he could still probably contribute in the idea stage.
But he didn't even know where they'd gone, and he'd probably missed them, anyway, and it was starting to make him nervous.
Shutting off the lights as he checked his pocket again for the key, he began wandering down towards the lounge. Maybe they'd be down there. If not, at least he wouldn't be stuck sitting in his room listening to armchair warriors arguing about things they knew nothing about.
The wood-paneled, pseudo-Irish-Pub style lounge wasn't empty, but the team was nowhere to be found.
Must've gone out, then.
He sat down at the bar, drinking decaf and allowing himself a certain amount of amusement at the wary looks the other patrons were giving him.
"What the hell happened to you?" The bartender, a lanky girl with highlights or whatever in her hair, asked as she refilled his cup.
"Rodeo accident," he drawled. "You know how it goes."
"The hell I do," she replied, smiling, but that was the end of it, and he was relieved to slip from her attention as she turned back to the TV in the corner.
A while later, after he paid the two dollar tab, he headed towards the elevators, intent on making it into bed before he fell asleep on his feet. Further down, at the end of the hall, Hardison was going ducking around the corner, with a towel slung over his shoulder.
It wasn't until the humid chlorine hit his nose that it occurred to him that he'd had no reason to follow him towards the pool.
Standing there, though, he decided that for the moment, he didn't have much reason to leave.
Hardison was a better swimmer than he would have expected, and Eliot wracked his brain, trying to remember if that was something he already knew, but drawing a blank. Instead, he watched Hardison cut across the pool and back again, and tracked the water streaming over his skin when he turned at the end of the lane.
Stepping aside to allow three dripping wet kids and two suburbanite parents trudge by, it took him a few seconds to realize why they'd looked at him funny as they passed.
It wasn't too likely he was in there to swim, after all.
Screw 'em.
Not wanting to risk being caught in the same elevator as the Cleavers, he watched Hardison slide towards the end of another lap, and leaned against the door until it let him through.
---
Chapter 13
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: Whoohoo! Two chapters in one week!
Banner by the wonderful and amazing and brilliant cybel
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Chapter 12
There was a jostling, and he awoke to find himself in unexpectedly familiar surroundings. Eliot was on the other end of the couch, face turned away, but watching him sidelong like-
Like he's expecting me to attack, Alec realized, horrified.
But then another second ticked past, and he looked again, and Eliot was staring at the bookshelf across the room, miles away, evidently exhausted.
Or maybe he's just waking up, too.
Another minute ticked by, and neither of them had spoken yet, and it was starting to get awkward.
Alec gave first, dragging a hand over his face. "Yo man. Sorry. Didn't mean to pass out."
"It's cool," the words were spoken through a clenched jaw. "Kind of late." On the chair, serving as evidence, the laptop screen was black.
Shaking the last of the sleep from his head as he yawned, Alec could only agree.
But something wasn't adding up. Something was off.
Other than passing out and probably drooling all over your shirt? Standing, he picked up the dishes to cover for the mortification of being caught sleeping in class, and headed for the kitchen. He was upending the empty bottles in the sink to drain when he realized what he'd had wrong.
He'd seen Eliot wake up a hundred times, now, thanks to the security footage. Saw his eyes flash open, sharp and aware, always alert. He never looked as tired and worn as this. Maybe it was the painkillers, though judging by Eliot's expression, either they hadn't been working too well, or they'd worn off.
And if that was the case, it wasn't too likely that he'd fall asleep sitting up.
Judging by the time, he'd sat there, awake, for well over an hour, apparently unmoving. His ribs had to be killing him, by now, and there was no way he wasn't smart enough not to know that he should have been in bed, lying down, taking some of the stress off. But he'd just. Sat there. Probably waiting for your ass to wake up
Alec huffed his annoyance to the trashcan. Supposed to be coming over her making sure he's sorted. Not making it worse because he's too polite to kick your ass out.
He headed towards the bathroom, needing a few minutes to think before heading back to face Eliot. Eliot who wasn't usually so polite, so quietly patient.
It wasn't that he was the sort to whine, or anything, but he'd bitch and grumble plenty. A head cold was usually enough to make people to keep their distance, but injured? At least one of them should have been shouting hours ago.
Something's actually wrong with him, he hated himself for the sudden realization, but he wasn't sure it because all this was happening in the first place, or because he hadn't seen it coming.
It wasn't like he hadn't seen plenty of evidence pointing in that direction, on the video, in that room. In the hospital. He should have known about it by now.
Seriously.
---
Eliot waited until he heard the car start out front, before moving to stretch out on the couch. It was still warm, where Hardison had been sprawled.
It wasn't helping. And it didn't change anything.
He'd listened to the end of the game, knowing all the while that he should have been waking Hardison up. Going up to bed to get some real sleep, not sitting there, aware of little besides the feeling of gravity, of sinking into Hardison's space. The solidness of his body. It hadn't felt weird, then. Not like it did now. Not by a long fucking shot.
He'd extricated himself cleanly the moment he sensed Hardison moving, had already been at the other end of the couch, deliberately dazed and unaware, but he'd felt the eyes on him, the awareness.
He wasn't sure he'd been caught out, but Hardison had knownsomething was off, even if he didn't know what. That much had been glaringly apparent. And the kid was smart. He'd figure it out eventually.
Probably before Eliot himself did. He was narrowing it down, though. Embarrassment, mostly. Guys didn't do that sort of thing. Well, some did. But not him. Even now, even with all the things he'd started admitting he'd wanted. Emasculation had never been on that particular list, and hell, it shouldn't have even been in his vocabulary, but there it was, in flashing neon lights.
If this was how it felt, maybe he needed to rethink some things again. And maybe it- guys weren't actually his scene, maybe it had all been just a fluke. Some sort of midlife crisis, or something.
---
Alec browsed Wikipedia's articles on PTSD and related entries until the words wouldn't string together properly anymore, and then he read some more.
He laughed into his pillow, later, listening to the countdown in his head, when he finally recognized the sound for what it probably was. Stopped laughing when he realized it didn't seem to be an instant cure, and turned the idea over, considering the angles.
Maybe if he hadn't watched those videos. If he hadn't hit his head. If he'd been able to go more than half an hour without having to think about any of it.
But wishing was pointless, didn't solve anything at all, so Alec reined it in. Put it in a box labeled Really Shitty Month: side effects may include insomnia, aural hallucinations, ongoing feelings of helplessness and failure. The lid wouldn't shut as tightly as he wanted it to.
And the ticking was still there. Always there, in the background, keeping him awake, like now, and following him into sleep.
Except, apparently, when he was crashing on Eliot's couch.
C'mon, man. Admit it. The couch has nothing to do with it.
And that sucked, because he had a suspicion that he knew what did, and it was a hell of a lot more complicated than an overstuffed piece of furniture.
---
Alec slept in, spending most of the day wading through the data again. He might have gotten somewhere with it if he hadn't been distracted every ten minutes by the phone that sat next to his mouse pad, silent.
It was just past eleven when it actually rang, and Eliot's number flashing on the display might as well have read commence feeling of pervasive doom now.
"Hey, got a question for you. I was messing around earlier, and turned the wireless on, but the only networks that show up were locked, and then I remembered I don't have a modem. Or whatever."
Just a tech question, then. Nothing serious.
"Uh, yeah." He sat up straight, rubbing at his eyes and blinking towards the hallway. "You want me to come over there and set you up?"
"Uh," he paused, probably checking the time. "Nah. It can wait."
"Right on. I'll get it sorted. Just let me know when."
"Cool. Thanks." Alec thought that was the end of it, was getting ready to hang up, when Eliot continued. "So, uh. How's it going?"
"Aw, man, it's been a really good day for bad data, and that's all I'm sayin'. What about you?"
"I'm fine. Had another doctor appointment this morning. Parker just left, think I bored the hell out of her, though. Slept most of the day." It felt like a strange thing for Eliot to be saying. Like it meant something more, like he was trying to tell him something.
Or that Alec was just becoming paranoid enough to make it mean something. His own reply, "good, that's good" sounded a little terse in response. "Unless that means you're going to be up all night, now."
"Nah. Gonna turn in pretty soon, here."
"Right on. Me too."
---
It was nearly six the next evening the next time his phone rang.
"Monopoly," Parker said, leaving him trying to remember if that was one of their current emergency code words, but he was fairly certain that this month, they were going with a nautical theme. Which had been a silly idea anyway, completely impractical when even he was talented enough to translate "I just ran into a friend from home, and we're going out for coffee," into "I think I've picked up a tail, warn the others." But Sophie had insisted, right at the outset, and they'd all been playing along ever since. But that was neither here nor there.
"What? Are you okay?"
"No. Yes," Parker huffed. "I'm fine. I meant we should play Monopoly. It's raining outside, and there's nothing to do, and Eliot's not feeling well, so we should go over there and you need to take a break. Nate told me so, yesterday. Said you were going to wear yourself out if you didn't."
"I was supposed to go over to Nate's tonight, talk to him about stuff." Explaining that the city of Pittsburgh's servers were down for the weekend and that it would be at least twelve hours before he could get to the data wasn't anything that he couldn't manage in five minutes over the phone, but it was close enough to the truth to serve as an excuse.
"I wouldn't," Parker warned. "I just came from there and he and Sophie were arguing. I'd wait a few hours. And during those hours, you should come over and play Monopoly. I'll bring soda!"
She hung up on him before he could get another word in, and he was left considering his options.
If he went over there, he could get a read on Eliot. See where his head was at, because in another day or so, Alec would have enough material to present to the team, and by the end of it, they'd probably have something resembling a plan in place.
And he hadn't heard from Eliot all day, anyhow. For all he knew, no one had. Digging the phone out of his pocket again, he made the call. If his suspicions were correct, he'd need the warning.
---
Parker was waiting on the front steps, Monopoly board under one arm, a case of orange soda hanging heavily from her other hand, when he opened the door, and Hardison pulled up not two minutes later.
Watching them shed jackets that they apparently didn't need in the frigid hallway, Eliot followed them into the kitchen and asked, "Nate and Sophie coming?"
"No," Parker answered, kicking the refrigerator door shut. "They were fighting, so they don't get to play."
Hardison set his bag down in the corner. "You know what it's about?"
Eliot snorted, forcing himself to take a deep breath, deciding that pneumonia might not feel so bad by comparison. Retrieving the bowl of popcorn from the counter, he set it on the table, tugging his sleeve back down his arm as he took his seat. "Probably the usual. Hardison, Parker brought that soda, it's in the fridge."
Parker was already handing him a can. "Thanks," Hardison said. "That sucks."
"You'd rather they were both here mooning over each other and being awkward? I can't stand awkward people." When Parker opened the box, Eliot wasn't surprised to see that she'd replaced the play money with real bills. He sat down at the kitchen table and tried to remember how the game worked.
"So what do you want to be?" he asked Parker. "The car?"
"I don't care."
Eliot exchanged looks with Hardison, whose raised eyebrows indicated that he wasn't the only one in the room expecting her to have a set-in-stone opinion on the matter.
"Fine," he decided. "I'm the car, then."
---
The competition was vicious, with Hardison eventually emerging victorious. It had been slow going, as conversations had broken the game play far too often. Trading stories about heists that had gone well, each trying to outdo the next. In that department, Hardison came in dead last.
Eliot spoke for the first time in a while, his voice quiet. "It's just 'cause you don't get your ass away from your computer long enough to make it out the door."
"Hey man, I get around," he replied, haughtily, realizing how that had probably sounded. "I came over here and kicked both your asses at Monopoly. Just wait until we're playing Snakes and Ladders, though, cause I rule at that game."
Parker was glaring into him like she was trying to preemptively figure out his game strategy, and Eliot was smiling, tracing his finger absently through the condensation ring left behind his water glass. There was tension at the edges of the expression, though.
Parker noticed it, too, her head swiveling to follow Alec's gaze. "Your shoulder bothering you?"
"Yeah."
"That sucks. You want us to leave?" Parker asked, hesitating, hands hovering inches above the game board. Alec checked the time. It was almost eleven.
"Nah. Distraction's good. Hang on a minute, though. Gonna go grab my meds."
---
Another half hour, and Hardison had set him up with internet, scrawling instructions for troubleshooting on a notepad. Eliot didn't honestly think he needed it, it wasn't like he was doing anything that complicated, but he half-listened, and nodded in all the right places. Rolled his eyes at Parker a few times.
It wasn't uncomfortable, really, as it probably should have been, with Hardison leaning over him to point things out on the screen. But it wasn't like he knew what he was doing with computers, that much, at least, had never been a secret.
It was business as usual, actually a little boring. He'd been missing that.
By the time the others cleared out, the painkillers were working well enough that he was asleep within minutes.
---
There was no reason, in 2009, for anyone not to know how to restart a computer. Even Eliot. And there was no reason he had to call about it in the middle of the damned night.
"So this thing?" he began, once Alec answered the phone, "I was trying to open another window in Explorer, and the screen froze. What should I do?"
Shaking his head, because he'd been waiting to hear impatient complaints, demands for information, for answers that were, in all honesty, long overdue. "You try restarting it?"
"Yeah. Just did the same thing again when I went back online."
"Okay. That's an old laptop, and it could need a new update or something. In the meantime, get it restarted and run the virus scan. It's on the startup menu, if you-"
"I can read," Eliot growled. "Hang on." A few moments later, he said. "Okay, it's going. Look like it's going to be a few minutes."
"Okay." Alec nodded, and changed the topic to why Eliot had actually called. "So, check it. Finally got enough to call the team together. Nate's planning on tomorrow at his place, but it's not finalized. Tomorrow morning work for you?"
"I don't know, see. I was going to go rock climbing, but I think I can squeeze it in." There was a pause, then, less sarcastically, "You mind picking me up?"
"No problem, just be sure to wear something nice." Hearing how that had probably come out, he grimaced. "I don't want you trailing dirt and grit and that chalk stuff all over my car. I'll call when I'm on my way over."
"Okay. Oh, hey, look like it's found something. It's giving me a prompt. Do I just read it and follow the instructions?"
"And here I was, thinking I was the only genius in town."
---
Eliot hung up the phone, groaning as he reached to place the laptop on the nightstand, but the painkillers were finally starting to kick in enough that he had a chance in hell of sleeping, at some point, and all told, he was feeling better than he'd felt all day.
And maybe the conversation had something to do with it, his brain supplied, but he stomped on that train of thought before it could gain a foothold. Moratorium thusly imposed, he burrowed back under the covers and let his eyes droop. He had things to do, in the morning.
---
"…So what we've got, here, what we've got, are some low level, low mobility guys. They're tied down, with house payments, families, car loans, whatever. If they were going to run, they would have done so by now, but they're still in the area. We can afford to give it a few days," Nate decided, turning his head to examine Eliot, still standing by the door. "Give Sophie time to get back from New York, let Eliot rest up. Alec, you've got another couple of days to work on the third unknown."
"I'll be fine."
"Humor me." Turning briefly back to the group, he stated, "And this time, we're flying. And Eliot?" His eyes searched out Eliot, standing near the doorway as was becoming usual.
You don't look so good. You take your painkillers?"
"Yeah," Eliot grumbled, obviously annoyed.
"Okay," Nate raised his eyebrows. "You need to go home. Hardison, you about ready to go?"
"Yeah. Just let me pack my things, man. Three minutes."
"I'll be in the car," Eliot edged the door open and stepped out.
Nate waited a few moments, watching out the window, before asking, "Hardison. You know what that was all about? Why he wouldn't come in?"
"I don't know, man. Could be hyper-vigilance. Guarding the door or something." It was the closest he'd come to admitting his suspicions, and it was making him nervous. Nate, though, judging by the tilt of his head, had apparently been thinking along the same lines.
"He's not guarding the door," Parker interjected, shoveling more cereal into her mouth. "I think he's keeping his escape open." She finished chewing, swallowed, and added, "That's what I would do. If I was him."
Dreading the answer, Alec asked, "Nate, man. You think it's something we need to get into?"
"He's gonna hate that," Parker warned.
"I wouldn't. No. Not yet. Just. We'll keep an eye on it for now. See how it goes."
"I hate to bring it up, but. You seriously think we've got the time to wait? That no one's going to come around looking to tie up loose ends?"
"If they do, I'd rather it happened here."
"You're weird," Parker said, and as much as Alec would have liked to agree with her, he was suddenly certain that Eliot was down on the street, being forced into the back of a truck in broad daylight. He needed to get down there.
Alec hurried to shove the last of his things into his pack, and darted towards the door. "Parker, you need a lift?"
"No. I've got some stuff to go over with Nate," she ducked underneath the couch, dragging out a roll of blueprints.
"What're those for?"
"Security plans for Eliot's house."
"He doesn't have a security system."
"Exactly. Want to have a good system in place before we tell him, though, so he won't be able to argue with us about it, so don't spoil the surprise."
Alec nodded from the doorway, looking between the two of them, and wondering whose idea it had originally been. He ran down the stairs and out the door, feeling relieved first, then foolish, when he saw Eliot sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, glaring at passing cars.
---
Hardison was quiet the entire ride home, his mind apparently elsewhere, and for that, Eliot was thankful.
Because he was about seven seconds out from a massive freakout. He could keep a hold on it, though, until he was back home. Behind closed doors. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't sure if it was because he had that much control, or because he had no idea where to start.
It was rush hour, and the street outside Nate's building had been busy. True, it meant there were witnesses, but around sunset, people's vision was usually at it's worst. Including his own. He couldn't track them all, couldn't tell if he was actually being watched, or just paranoid, but the sensation had been there , ever since they left.
It had gone away, for the moment, but he suspected it would appear again by the time they pulled up his driveway. They'd been gone a long time. If someone had been watching the place, waiting, it would have been a good time to make a move. And he hadn't even thought about it until now.
He focused on it for the rest of the drive. It was the only thing he could really do to prepare if something was actually going to go down, and it definitely beat the alternative.
Nate's obvious whatever that was, earlier. Talking like Sophie was actually part of the reason for delaying the trip to Pennsylvania. Like Hardison needed more time, when he clearly had the answers already. He'd been looking right at him when he'd decided, hadn't even made the effort to pretend not to know.
Dead weight. Bad enough that you're useless, but now it's affecting the team. You're slowing them down.
He tried not to think about it, tried to concentrate on the rest of the meeting. With the exception of Sophie, it was the first time they'd all been in the same room together. Back at Nate's place. It should have felt different.
He'd caught Hardison laughing at something Parker said, rummaging through Nate's kitchen drawers. Relaxed, like there was nothing hanging over him, like nothing in the world was wrong.
And it's not like the world wasn't the same normally screwed thing it had always been, but it wasn't one that Eliot had any chance of joining any time soon. He wanted to, at least he was supposed to want it, but he didn't now how, yet.
So he'd kept watch from a distance, and it had felt vaguely ridiculous, like he'd been spying on them through a window, but it had beat the alternative, being in the room, with the rest of them. Joining them like he had a reason to be there, and waiting for someone to realize he didn't. Bearing the brunt of their scrutiny as they assessed their newest charity case.
But he didn't have time for that now, he had to plan his approach. Hopefully, anyone waiting, poised for attack, was in his living room, or better yet, the kitchen. The gun was still stashed in the hallway. He'd get some of his own back, maybe. Scare the hell out of the others, probably, but he'd be fine.
When the house proved to be empty, he wasn't even relieved to find that all his planning had been for nothing.
---
Eliot had been in such a shitty mood, after the meeting, that Alec hadn't expected to hear from him. And he hadn't, not until he was crawling into bed.
He'd wanted to know about bouncing his web mail to the laptop's mail client. Alec still wasn't sure exactly where it had gone after that, though he vaguely remembered browsing the web to find out if calls to tech support were listed anywhere as a PTSD diagnostic.
Mostly, he'd just rambled on, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, trying to guess when it would be, exactly, that Eliot got fed up enough to hang up on him.
Alec woke in the morning with the phone plastered to the side of his head, and had to plug it back into the charger to find out when it was, exactly, that he'd hung up. A little after one.
By noon, endeavoring to kill off a little more time, trying to shake off the weirdness of the call as he wandered through his apartment, he'd checked the mirror to find that the marks on his face had finally faded.
There was nothing more they could do until they actually landed in Pittsburgh, and if he didn't stop spinning his wheels, he'd end up in even more of a rut.
---
He was buying a drink for Lisa's girlfriend, who had a birthday that night and a name that he couldn't remember, when a hand grasping his shoulder from behind almost made him drop his beer.
"Alec!" Ron had probably had a few, judging by his tone, which was even more jovial than usual. "Finally crawling out from under your rock, I see."
"Hey man, what's up?" He collected the drink, and nodded back to their table, inviting him along.
"Not much, just work. Getting the house ready for Lee's family, coming to visit. He's cleaning now, so I thought I'd get out of the way of the storm. Waiting for James to come down, gonna shoot some pool. Oh, and just so you know, when you see him. He didn't get the job at Intel, so don't say anything." Alec nodded, not having any idea what Ron was on about.
Been out of the loop longer than you thought, man.
"Right on." Nothing substantial was said for a minute as the table erupted in happy birthdays and how've you beens, and Alec was about to start explaining to Lisa that Rose Tyler was alright, but she should really hold out for Martha Jones before declaring her undying allegiance, but Ron was leaning in again.
"So, Alec. What ever happened with, ah. Edward?"
He'd spent all day spinning his wheels and getting nowhere, but he was fast deciding that maybe it didn't sound so bad, by comparison. "You mean Eliot?"
"Him too. He the reason you've been missing in action?"
"After a fashion. Not like that, though. Work stuff."
"Oh. So. Like that, but twice as awkward, then."
You don't know the half of it. He really didn't want to talk about it, because he hadn't thought about it, really. Much. Just a little bit.
And it kind of sucked, but whatever.
Because yeah, and he knew he was being plastic, here, but Eliot was a good looking guy, when he wasn't walking around like he expected the ceiling to fall on him at any moment.
Wasn't just that, though. The guy was smart. Had a good head on his shoulders. Alec trusted him.
But he wasn't stupid enough to think that was enough.
The guy was in a screwed up place, for one. Probably would be, for a while. And while Alec had given it some thought, here and there, moving in on him was an epically bad idea.
For one, it seemed a little fucked to be thinking about Eliot like that when he was nowhere near being able to deal with it.
He would never claim to be an expert on the matter, but he missed the old Eliot. Not that they weren't the same person, but sometimes, like yesterday when he'd been lurking at the edges of the room, trying to blend into the woodwork, it was hard to be certain.
And it all really felt a little opportunistic, maybe forced, when he thought about it. He knew him. They were friends. And maybe it was convenient, but convenient didn't mean right. Didn't mean that he was Eliot's type, or that Eliot was his. If something were to happen, it would only come out of some bizarre sense of duty. Alec didn't date much, but he wasn't that hard up.
If life were a movie, it would be easy. They'd barely tolerate each other at first, move up to sniping, which, now that he stopped to think about it, wasn't that far off. Then tragedy would strike, revelations would be had, and they'd fall into bed before living happily forever after. The movies missed lots of little details.
Like how Eliot had been clearly weirded out about the mere idea of being with a man, and that had been before he'd been kidnapped and banged up and fucked with. Or how, as far as movie heroics went, Alec had been weak in the saving-the-day department. Even now, he was starting to hear that damned timer counting the seconds again.
So what if the guy had nice hair, and the edges of his mouth were distracting? Details like those were hard to appreciate when worrying if Eliot was going to be able to make it up the stairs without falling. If it was the painkillers that were sapping his appetite, or if it was some early symptom of pneumonia.
And if Eliot knew, if he ever found out Alec was thinking that way? It would be twice as pointless to even consider it.
How he was supposed to explain all that to Ron, he didn't even know. He was relieved beyond words when James arrived in a flurry of small talk to drag him towards to the pool tables.
Alec was left at the increasingly drunken table, with his attention was starting to slip, and the beer wasn't tasting as good as it had twenty minutes ago.
He forced himself to play along for a little while longer before rising to make his excuses, something he was getting better at, and say his goodbyes.
He'd barely made it out into the cold night when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He considered not answering. Not dealing. But he slapped a grin on his face, anyway.
"Eliot, my man! What's up?" He stepped aside to let a half dozen screaming women pass through the door. One of them had suckers attached to her shirt. A bachelorette party, then. Good a time as any to clear the hell out.
Apparently Eliot heard the shrieking. "Where are you?"
"Out," Alec answered, pulling a face. "Just leaving the bar." You know, the one where you outed yourself? The one where I used to be able to go to get my mind off things? Yeah. That one. Alec really wished he had anyone else's skill set. Parker at her worst couldn't make this more uncomfortable.
"Oh." There was a pause on the line. Apparently, the awkwardness was infectious. "Well, I just had a computer thing, but it can wait. I'll let you get going. Um. Have a good night."
"Yeah, okay," and on any other day, he'd actually break down and find out why Eliot kept calling, because really, it was getting ridiculous, but his heart just wasn't in it. Not now. "Still on for tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Just finished packing. Anyway," Eliot repeated,"have a good night."
"You too."
---
He'd slept for shit last night, and all the coffee he'd consumed that morning had worn out hours ago.
Eliot grit his teeth as he got himself situated, sitting by the window in first class, and forced himself not to snipe at Parker when she jostled his arm as she fastened her seatbelt.
He watched Nate's head disappear into the row ahead, and Sophie was across the aisle. She'd barely spoken all afternoon, and hadn't even looked in Nate's direction once. Even Parker, flipping through the SkyMall catalog at Eliot's side, was quiet, contained. No one had said much of anything, since they'd arrived at the gate, not really.
No one except Hardison, who was shoving his pack into the overhead bin and still going on about the hand driers in the airport's restroom, being his usual obnoxiously energetic self. He wasn't even showing any signs of having a late night.
Not that Eliot was looking. It wasn't like he'd spent too many hours wondering if Hardison had gone home alone.
But he was starting to get really fucking bored with the other topics open for consideration. The strap of the sling rubbing his skin raw, or the shoulder that made him useless. The length of time it took him to get up a flight of stairs. Never being warm enough, not with two pairs of socks on and three shirts. His kitchen, at night, having him jumping at shadows because there was probably still enough left of him to break if he didn't. The suspicion that Nate and the others saw it, too.
By comparison, the knowledge that Alec Hardison had a normal social life was fairly goddamned innocuous.
Ain't none of your business, man. Leave it be.
Yeah. Tell me how that's workin' for ya.
He really needed to focus. They were finally moving, the plane backing away from the terminal, and soon they'd be arriving, getting their game in gear.
Finally fucking doing something.
He tried to be enthusiastic about the entire thing, and as long as he ignored the likelihood that he'd be doing nothing more than sitting on the sidelines, it worked.
He had another two weeks, probably, of fucking around with the sling. Of shoving ice packs on it every few hours, even though the swelling had already gone down, for the most part. With the ribs in the mix, it would be another month before he could actually start physical therapy. After that? Still too fucking long before he was up to form.
As the plane turned down the runway, he took a breath and rolled his shoulder against the back of the seat, trying to will the blood to flow back into his arm, willing the slight numbness away. Took a deep breath, too, because he hadn't done that in a while, and held it as the plane gained speed.
---
When he'd set up the reservations, it really hadn't seemed like it would be that big of a deal. But that was yesterday. Today, Alec took his time cleaning up, not wanting to go back into the room and find Eliot, eyes on the door, planning his escape. Kansas, all oer again.
He'd already showered, though, and brushed his teeth. Unless he wanted to shave, he was fast running out of justifiable delays.
Hurrying back into the room to stash his things, he to keep his eyes off Eliot, lying on the bed, still awake. His prescription bottles were on the nightstand, next to the remote and a root beer from the machine down the hall.
Running out of things to do, he grabbed his pack and hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "Gonna head down. You coming?"
"Nah." Eliot brandished his new ice pack with a tired grin. "Think I'm just gonna see what's on TV. Order room service later if I decide to eat."
"A'ight, cool. Back in a bit."
---
Alec was starting to lose steam. He'd been talking almost nonstop for nearly an hour, and had barely managed to eat any of his dinner before it had gotten cold. But he carried on.
"And last, but not least, I've just confirmed our best prospect. Name's John Warren, ex-Army, police academy washout, single, no kids, three cars. Warren, here," he continued, swiveling the laptop around so the others could see, "has his main gig with Crandall Security, they handle big events. Concerts and football games and fundraising galas, mostly. But about a month and a half ago, he started depositing cash amounts six times his usual paycheck. Fits the timeline perfectly."
Parker nodded. "So why are you just finding this now?"
"Had to wait for him to actually be logged into the HR system so I could confirm the match- there are thirteen John or Jonathan Warrens in the metro area. Went in this morning and tweaked the duty roster so he'd have to come back and fix it. His shift started about the time we got here, and he was fixing the error while we were ordering our drinks."
"That's cutting it a little close, isn't it?"
"Hey." Alec scowled in annoyance. "I had two solid profiles on our other guys days ago, but ya'll weren't ready to hear it. This one just took longer to confirm, but it's the best lead we've got. He was on the original list, but fell off the radar because he wasn't also on the unemployment list. When I overlaid the two maps, his address popped up smack-damn in the middle."
Sophie shook her head in confusion. "How do the maps figure in again?"
"Because if there's a physical location where they all met up, or a bulletin board at a grocery store or something- you really want the details?"
"Ah," she smiled, biting her lip. "No, thank you."
"So we've got three suspects instead of one," Nate cut in before the conversation fell off the rails entirely. "Good work, Hardison."
Sophie nodded, but she still wasn't entirely sold. "All three probably know our faces. They know our reputations. They'll see us and run."
"Faster than bullets?" Parker offered, frowning in confusion at the looks that met her suggestion before turning back to her increasingly large pile of shredded napkin.
Nobody wanted to be the first to agree with her. No one wanted to be the first to disagree, either. Nate, when he spoke, looked reluctant. "Look. I know this isn't just another case, but we're not killing anyone." His measured gaze searched out each of theirs in turn. "Unless you have to," he muttered, downing more water.
Presentation over, he closed his laptop, finally got around to voicing his main concern. "We know he's going to recognize us, and that if they've done any preparation-"
"If they're at all prepared, if they know who we are, they'll be expecting us to come in sideways. Yeah." Nate frowned in satisfaction. "So we're going to take the front door. Throw him off, come at him in broad daylight." He nodded to himself for a minute, before asking. "So. We know where he's going to be working tomorrow night?"
Ten minutes later, assignments in hand, they paid the tab and made their way out of the restaurant. Parker left first, heading across the parking lot back towards the hotel, with Nate following behind, more slowly.
"Yo Sophie, hold up," Alec called, sliding the files into his pack, next to the laptop. From the expression she wore, it was clear that she was anticipating what he said next. "What's going on with you and Nate, anyhow?"
"Short version?"
"Yeah."
"He." She looked out the window after him. "It's silly. I stopped over at his apartment last week, and found him researching new clients. He began telling me about them, trying to figure out how we could get working on them, being as how we're a man down."
"Yeah?" Alec wasn't surprised, and tried to figure out where the problem was.
"I thought. And I know better, now, but it seemed to me at the time that he was giving up on Eliot. Just tossing it all aside."
"And now?"
"When I was in New York, I had some time to think it over. He needs things he can actually fix. He needs control. He wasn't in a position to obtain either, with Eliot's situation." Sophie smiled, self deprecatingly. "Because it's all been up to you, so far. The rest of us are just tagalongs."
"Not anymore, though. Soon as tomorrow night comes, it's on."
Sophie hummed her agreement, pushing through the doorway, and he had to hurry to keep up.
"So. Right. I get all that, but. What were you doing in New York? Why did you leave?"
"Because sometimes, Nate and I are more similar than I'd like to admit."
---
Wired, like he always was when the plan had been set, Alec was disappointed to find the room dark when he returned.
It was still too early to sleep, though apparently Eliot was of a different mind. As wired as he was, he'd only end up staring at the ceiling, nodding along to the ticking in his head. And he really needed to do something about the lethargy that hadn't let up since they'd landed.
Hauling his pack into the bathroom, he closed the door before turning on the light and changing into his swim trunks. Pulling the track pants up over them, he shoved the key into the pocket and grabbed a towel from the rack, before sliding out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs.
He still had an hour or so before the pool was closed down for the night. Down at the other end, kids were shrieking, splashing around. Their parents shot him apologetic glances, in between trying to snap photos of the melee.
He hadn't been swimming in a few months, but after diving in, and a few awkward strokes, he found the right rhythm. He tried, for the first few laps, to match the beat in his head, but he couldn't keep up. A few more, and the timing of his own pace was starting to take over, moving in and replacing it.
Finally.
He swam until his eyes began to sting, but by that point, he was probably tired enough to get upstairs and get some sleep.
Stepping out of the water, he heard the door closing, down by the other end of the pool, and scanned the room to find that he was the last one out, and the only one in his head.
He took his time drying off, and didn't hurry back to the room.
---
The burger that room service had sent up was dry, and the potatoes on the side were watery, but Eliot finished them. Actually felt good, afterwards, a little more awake. But the idiotic documentary on Shaolin fighting was starting to grate on him.
Hardison still hadn't come back. It had only been an hour, or so, but Eliot was starting to think that maybe he should have gone down, listened to the plan, whatever it was. Even if he was sidelined on this one, he could still probably contribute in the idea stage.
But he didn't even know where they'd gone, and he'd probably missed them, anyway, and it was starting to make him nervous.
Shutting off the lights as he checked his pocket again for the key, he began wandering down towards the lounge. Maybe they'd be down there. If not, at least he wouldn't be stuck sitting in his room listening to armchair warriors arguing about things they knew nothing about.
The wood-paneled, pseudo-Irish-Pub style lounge wasn't empty, but the team was nowhere to be found.
Must've gone out, then.
He sat down at the bar, drinking decaf and allowing himself a certain amount of amusement at the wary looks the other patrons were giving him.
"What the hell happened to you?" The bartender, a lanky girl with highlights or whatever in her hair, asked as she refilled his cup.
"Rodeo accident," he drawled. "You know how it goes."
"The hell I do," she replied, smiling, but that was the end of it, and he was relieved to slip from her attention as she turned back to the TV in the corner.
A while later, after he paid the two dollar tab, he headed towards the elevators, intent on making it into bed before he fell asleep on his feet. Further down, at the end of the hall, Hardison was going ducking around the corner, with a towel slung over his shoulder.
It wasn't until the humid chlorine hit his nose that it occurred to him that he'd had no reason to follow him towards the pool.
Standing there, though, he decided that for the moment, he didn't have much reason to leave.
Hardison was a better swimmer than he would have expected, and Eliot wracked his brain, trying to remember if that was something he already knew, but drawing a blank. Instead, he watched Hardison cut across the pool and back again, and tracked the water streaming over his skin when he turned at the end of the lane.
Stepping aside to allow three dripping wet kids and two suburbanite parents trudge by, it took him a few seconds to realize why they'd looked at him funny as they passed.
It wasn't too likely he was in there to swim, after all.
Screw 'em.
Not wanting to risk being caught in the same elevator as the Cleavers, he watched Hardison slide towards the end of another lap, and leaned against the door until it let him through.
---
Chapter 13