Man I Used to Be #14 REPOSTED
Okay. Trying this AGAIN. Hopefully, LJ won't decide to reformat it after I post it. AGAIN.
Chapter 14
The morning was a panicked litany of alarm clocks going off an hour late and two hours early, weak coffee, bad traffic, and hassles at the rental return. The sky was starting to cloud over, threatening to make moods even worse, and the 10:14 boarding was already being called as they rushed towards the terminal. They barely made it.
Eliot was the last to board, barely settling into his seat before the pilot began his announcements.
Intent on taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he was finally sitting down, he glanced past Nate and across the aisle at Hardison's profile, and felt his relief head spin into something else entirely.
Stubble just catching at the edge of his lips as he tilts his head, trying for a better angle.
Hardison pulling back, but not as far as he'd been before. Still close enough to see everything, read his mind, if Eliot let him. Still close enough that there was no space that Eliot could see that didn't have him in it.
Eliot swallowed thickly enough that it caught Nate's attention. "You doin' alright?"
"I'm fine," he answered, wincing at the tightness of his own voice, but it didn't matter. Nate was already turning back to his book, opening it up and finding his page.
Eliot kept his focus on the dreary tarmac outside the window, convincing himself that the flaps at the back of the wing really were that fascinating, and wondered, idly, if maybe he'd be able to catch some sleep.
It wasn't fucking likely.
They took off at some point. He watched as the ground slipped away, cars becoming glints on the roads, and the roads becoming nearly invisible barriers between patches of brown and green. A few more minutes, and gray washed in as the clouds finally obscured even those from view.
Maybe they were getting inside, too. He was starting to feel numb, okay, distant. Muted, drifting with his forehead pressed against the plastic wall, his knit cap enough pillow for now as he stared unseeingly at nothing.
The light started to change, though, as they clambered out over the top of the clouds, and suddenly, everything was too bright.
Outside, the sky's growing light. The sun will be up soon, and it's surreal to think that everywhere else, time had been marching steadily onward.
Wanting to say something, point it out, maybe, but getting derailed by the small curl at the edge of Hardison's mouth, the glint of canine just peeking through the near smile, because he was in on the joke, too.
Awareness creeping in on the realization that whatever it was, whether it was a "we're all good" thing or a "shut the hell up" thing, an apology, distraction, experiment, or a just really bad idea- whatever it meant when all this started, he'd wanted it.
Still does. It's terrifying and it might screw things up, but for now he can afford it. He pushes thought away, though, because he doesn't want to miss anything, not right now.
He can freak out later. Right now, he's busy.
---
Across the aisle, Eliot was still staring out the window resolutely enough that when the stewardess had come by with the coffee cart, Nate decided not to disturb him.
And it was just as well, really, because seriously? This was fucked.
Alec yanked his laptop out of the bag the moment the announcement came on that it was okay to do so. Checked to make sure that it was in offline mode, and shook his head derisively. Ain't like I can't fly the damn thing from here.
Next to him, Sophie stretched her back before resettling with her book, some thing about Mary, Queen of Scots, with a dreary portrait on the cover.
He pulled his headphones on and set to work. He wouldn’t be able to find anything new, not until they landed, but he could start cleaning everything up, and right now, the tedium was distraction enough.
You kissed him.
Or not.
Okay. You spent a very long time engaging in make-out-like behavior, against all your better judgment. And you knew damn well it would turn out like this.
Maybe if they'd had more than ten minutes between waking and running out the door. Two minutes to, who knows, clear things up, find out where they stood, see if they were fucking okay.
Because if Eliot had been planning on being too disgusted to face him, a little warning would have been nice.
The translations were completed, so after creating a folder and naming it "Burma Shitstorm," he began sorting the files for later access. He tried to read only as much as he had to in order to keep them organized, but details, here and there, kept catching his eye.
Eliot's name on scanned papers, surrounded by words that didn't fit him any more. Had him all wrong. Even with everything Alec already knew, they didn't add up to any sort of sense, and if they were trying to describe the man Alec had kissed, they were even more lacking than he'd thought.
Maybe the paper trail hadn't caught everything. This, what he had on his computer, was Eliot, decontextualized. If the bits and pieces didn't add up to the man across the way, maybe they belonged to the stranger Eliot was pretending to be.
He wanted to delete every last one of the files, toss the hard drive out the window, because it wasn't like he needed them, really. He knew all he needed to know.
Like how there's a good chance that you were the first dude he's made out with. Ever. He's got what, like, ten years on you, and he's just now figuring it out? Or how he's still probably dosed up from…what was it? Oh yeah. Being kidnapped. Or how you've been tearing through his history like it was nothing?
Give the guy a break.
The understanding would have felt better if it hadn't been followed up with the certainty that any one of those, on their own, would have been enough to jolt anyone up towards the door.
He was probably going to leave.
Sophie glanced up when she realized he'd been scowling intently at back of the seat in front of him, but then she turned the page and read onward, still unaware of the mess that he'd caused.
Fuck.
---
The plastic of the airplane's inner wall was cool against his forehead, where the cap was slipping back, but the vibrations were starting to drill into his skull, down his neck, and echoing uncomfortably into his shoulder.
Eliot sat up again, using his movement to cover a cursory scan of his surroundings. Up ahead, on the other side, Parker was taking up two seats, her legs and sneaker-clad feet the only part of her that was visible.
Behind her, Hardison was staring angrily at his laptop, and if he knew he was being watched, he didn't let on. Not one to leave it to chance, though, Eliot tore his eyes away. He'd seen enough as it was.
Besides. He wasn't the one that started it.
Before it was the first kiss, back when it was still the kiss that hasn't happened yet.
Leaning in, lips brushing a little rough before pulling back, but not away. Hardison's voice is a near whisper when he asks, "This okay?" Hesitant, nervous, even, and it's ridiculous, seeing as how he's still got Eliot's breath clinging to his lips, and he's thrown by it, too, so now it's Eliot's turn.
"Yeah."
The second and third kisses are small brief things, but they're everything they need to be, and the next time Eliot gets enough space to breathe, to look, Hardison's focus is on him so fully that Eliot will never not feel it. Never not know.
He brings his hand up to the side of Hardison's neck, it's warm under his fingers as they wrap to fit the curve. It's a deliberate move, because Eliot has to show him that he gets it, he really does. Tactical, too, since Eliot needs to pull him in closer if he's going to make sure the message gets through.
Less than half a day later, Hardison wouldn't even look at him.
---
Sophie and Nate were both getting twitchy, either eager to get off the plane, tired of all this stillness, or becoming aware that something was going on. At least Parker was still asleep in the row ahead, but the stewardess in the aisle, making like she was about to lean over to wake her.
They'd be landing in about ten minutes, and the world would reorganize them into a different array. Probably not one where he and Eliot could ignore each other so easily.
He had ten minutes to figure this out.
So you kissed him. A lot. And he was into it. Take everything else out of the equation, that's a good thing.
But it's bad math.
Right.
Temporary insanity aside, how did you get to that point?
Alec began listing the possibilities.
He's hot. So were a lot of people.
He was freaking out, and you're a sucker for that sort of thing, was likewise turned down.
The timing seemed right would have made sense, if he'd ever known himself to have predilections towards being turned on by unpleasant war stories. Acknowledging that, however, shunted his thoughts in a more useful direction.
Bad scene. So you tried to ignore it, and that was what you came up with. And he played along. Something about it resonated, but it was an unbalanced equation, still missing something.
The intensity, maybe, or the fact that his jaw still ached hours later.
The fact that he was trying to come up with a solution for it at all, when it was probably a lot easier to just let it go.
The fact that, even now, With Eliot seven feet and a thousand miles away, he wanted to do it again. Better. Get it right.
It wasn't a solution, yet, but it was a new equation. Regarding the tray, stowed in its upright position, Alec relaxed back into his seat, aware of shifting and the downward movement of the plane as it settled into a new course, destination locked in.
It's some time after the first few, only this time, the kiss doesn't waver, it's insistent and sure. It's lips as rough as his own pressing in. It's the flush spreading up along the curve of Eliot's ear, inches away, the closest it's ever been.
It's his hand curving along the edge of Eliot's chest, fingers slotting perfectly between the ridges of his ribcage, even under the sweatshirt.
It's mouths easing open and the startling shock of teeth tapping teeth, tilting for a better angle because the only other option is stopping.
It's falling, fast, and not minding at all.
---
They're going to ask about what happened.
The fasten seatbelt signs were turned on for their descent, and not a moment too soon. He wanted to get home, away. Get some space to fucking think, for a minute, without having to deal with everyone's reactions.
They're going to need to know.
Because that would come soon enough. And maybe he'd have enough of a game plan together that he could get through this without ruining everything.
It's all going to come out.
Hardison fell into step next to them as they made their way towards the parking lot, grinning, and Eliot hated the spark it sent through him. It felt an awful lot like hope, so he did what he could to stamp it out, turning his attention to Parker, who was talking about lunch, and omelets, and how Eliot had promised to show her how to make them.
Every condemned man got a last meal. There wasn't much sense in fighting it.
---
"I've come to talk to you about Nathan Ford's crew."
"No."
"No I haven't, or no you won't talk to me?"
"Take your pick."
"It's interesting, you know. Alec Hardison got himself distracted a few months back, working a job. Got sloppy. Seems he was too busy showing off to clean up after his crew."
"Evidence. You're talking evidence?"
"Almost enough to hang the lot of them. Unfortunately, and more to the point, their trail's gone cold. They've scattered. I'm not looking for a miracle, here. But if we don't track Alec Hardison down in the next few days, we've got nothing to take to the judge."
Colin Mason beamed, leaning forward across the table. "How can I be of service?"
---
Alec was the last one to filter into Nate's apartment, but didn't make it ten feet before hearing, "So did you find anything, or are we booking a flight back in three days?" Nate, he sometimes forgot, wasn't a particularly patient man.
"Looks like we might have a lead, yeah." Dropping his bags on the couch wasn't an evasion, it was just what people did when they came into a room. He checked his watch, fairly certain that he'd been in a good mood not too long ago.
Nate looked to Eliot, Parker and Sophie following his gaze. "Care to elaborate?"
"Uh. Yeah." Eliot scratched his head, apparently intent on the floorboards, but another second ticked by, and he began.
"It was Myanmar, few years back. Went in to retrieve some prisoners. Job went south. Prisoners didn't make it, two guards didn't, either. Had to bail, skin out to Thailand for a bit."
He'd rehearsed the report. Gotten his lines down, whittled them into neutrality. Nate and Parker were impassive, which had probably been the whole point.
Sophie probably suspected, though, and though her eyes narrowed, she wasn't calling him on it, yet. "So what's the connection?"
"Got tagged by a sniper when I was crossing the border. My arm." He tilted his head to indicate. "If it wasn't Mikel Dayan pulling the trigger, she knows who did."
"You didn't mention that that before," Alec interjected, startled, but it rolled off. Eliot obviously wasn't about to start explaining any more than he had to, but something flashed across his face, almost too quick to catch.
Alec wasn't sure that he'd seen it until a moment had passed, and by then it was too late.
"You didn't tell any of us about any of it." Parker's accusation hung in the air, solidifying, gaining mass.
Eliot was the first to snap under the weight of it.
"Okay. You know what? No, I didn't." His angry scowl pinned each of them in turn as he raised his jaw in defiance "It wasn't any of your business. Wasn't even mine anymore. It's old news. Old bad news, and not even the worst of it, if you gotta know, but it's over and done with." He snorted, coiled to strike as he glared at Parker. "And don't pretend like you want me telling your bedtime stories."
"She does have a point, Eliot," Nate was apparently looking to get his ass handed to him. "You didn't mean to get dragged back into this, and I know you didn't mean to bring us down with you, but here we are."
Eliot was flushed and furious, almost shaking with it, but he didn't take the bait. Just raised his eyebrows and sliced his hand through the air. "Exactly. I never asked, so back the hell off."
His glare skimmed over Alec as he turned, and the door slammed behind him as he left.
Staring after him, it wasn't clear, exactly, what they were supposed to do now, and it was a short while before anyone was looking anyone in the face.
It was Parker who moved first, sending a silent message to Nate, which was met with a brief nod. Permission granted or order given, Alec couldn't be sure, she was crossing the floor, pausing to listen before slipping out into the hallway to follow.
A beleaguered sigh drew his attention back towards the couch, Nate's was already there.
"Okay," Sophie began, "Would you mind terribly if we could stop acting like children? Nate, you knew about his past, more than any of us. I understand that you're upset, and that we all have reason to be, but you can't just wield that knowledge like a sword."
"And what? Like sweeping it under the rug and pretending everything's fine is going to solve anything?" They regarded each other's annoyance while Alec wondered if there was any way he could possibly escape without getting caught in the crossfire.
He slid towards the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.
Nate deflated, after a moment, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Okay. You're right. I'll clear it up with him in a bit. Until then, we've got more important things to run down. First off, Mikel Dayan."
It was purpose, focus, and Alec had never been so relieved to start talking about a woman that could kill him with her pinky and a paperclip.
"Whatever else is going on, Eliot's right about one thing. We don't need her. Look here." Ignoring the clock readout at the corner of the screen, Alec transferred his desktop to the large monitors, tapped a few keys, and brought up the map. "The red dots are her recent known locations. Going by the dates, this," he ran the animation and lines began to connect the dots. "This insanity is her trail over the past year. She's been everywhere but Myanmar. Hasn't even hit any of the bordering countries, and going by the dates on the places she has hit, ain't no way she could have fit it in without using some form of teleportation."
"You sure about that?"
"Well, I am leaving out wormholes, but I'm pretty sure if one opened up in the middle of Cardiff, or somewhere, it would've made the papers. Probably. One thing that did get noticed, though. He brought up another window, showing the grainy scanned articles he'd found. "A marketplace shootout, few miles north of Dawei in '03."
"What're we looking at?" Nate squinted over the top of his glasses. "Newspaper stories?"
"Nothing in English, but I ran them through translation. It ain't exact, but…the gist of it is that the guards that, ah." Eliot killed. "They were members of the military force that's been running the place into the ground for the past fifty years. They were lauded in the local propaganda rags as heroes."
Sophie glared at the ceiling in disbelief. "So, great. Eliot crossed a military junta, and they're looking to bring him to justice?"
"Nah, that doesn't fit," Nate reasoned, after brief consideration. "Their government, if you can call it that, controls the media and forces their own citizens into labor. Getting justice for two low-ranked soldiers doesn't fit the M.O." He scowled at the map for a moment, calling over his shoulder. "Revenge might, though." Nate paced the room a few times, his eyes sharp but focused inward.
"Okay," he announced, coming to a stop. "So this Nicola guy knew to track Eliot down. He would have had to get the information to do so. So we need to find, ah. We need to know who's been looking at the original case files."
"C'mon, man. We're talking boxes of molding paperwork in basements on the other side of the planet, and I'm not seeing any indication that they're putting any sort of premium on good recordkeeping practices. If there is a chain of custody somewhere, it's not electronic. I'd actually have to get out there, and there's no way you're getting my ass back on a plane before I get a shower and-"
"No," Nate shook his head. "You're backup on this one. Sophie, you're up on this one. If Hardison gets you the numbers, can you talk someone into getting you what we need?"
Sophie was already practicing her bureaucratese. "You understand, of course, the volume of documentation that comes through this office, so it is imperative that you present the information in as complete a format as possible, otherwise the regulatory department will be forced to step in."
"All right, good." he laughed, pleased, his face going a little awkward when he realized Sophie was smiling back at him. Pulling his sleeve back to check the time, he began muttering to himself. "Okay. I'm going to track down Eliot, find out if Parker's cooled him off or just made things worse."
Yeah, right. Just like that. "You know where he went?"
"I have my suspicions," Nate called over his shoulder. "Back in a bit."
Alec peeled at the bottle's label as he searched out the numbers Sophie would need for her calls. It was harder going than it should've been. It was hard to concentrate. What it meant that he hadn't returned, what would happen when he did. If things would be playing out differently if last night hadn't happened.
He was at it for a while, long enough to forget that Sophie was still there.
"He's probably quite tired of having us putting his entire life under a microscope, wouldn't you think?" Sophie was looking down at the cell phone in her hand, her eyes scanning over some text message she'd received, probably from Nate. Sliding it shut, her full regard turned to Alec.
Alec turned and raised the bottle halfway to his mouth, having forgotten that it had been empty for a while, now. He'd get up for a new one in a while. He settled for toying with the neck of the bottle, spinning it between thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, but…Ain't like we've got some nefarious purpose, here. We are trying to help him."
"Which only makes it worse. He is not exactly the type to ask for help."
"So what do we do? Just drop it?"
"No, of course not. But to be honest, I don't know that there's anything we can do, other than let him storm out when he needs to, and pretend we didn't notice when comes back."
Alec snorted. "Way ahead of you. I'm all over that particular course of action, believe me."
"No, you're not." Sophie evidently thought he was missing something important. "You were going to corner him in the kitchen the moment he gets back, and make sure he was okay."
"Really," Alec was puzzled. "How do you figure-"
Sophie didn't wait for him to finish. "You keep fiddling with an empty bottle, and you've been checking the time every two minutes since he's left. You're waiting until he's in there, so you can run into him."
"No, I'm merely distracted by trying to figure everything out." It sounded weak, even to him, and the only thing for it was to make sure Sophie didn't take it as confirmation.
The fact that she'd been right had was entirely beside the point. He turned resolutely to the screen, pretending to be engrossed, until a damp chill was pressed into his bicep.
He smiled as he accepted the open bottle, but there was no way he was going to thank her.
"It's okay, you know," she said, and Alec had to admit, again, that he had no idea where that one had come from.
"What do you mean?"
"To worry about him. Even if he doesn't seem to want it."
"I wasn't-" he broke off, not knowing what he'd even meant to say, but Sophie took it in stride.
"Hardison," Sophie leaned against the side of the couch, and he was suddenly very aware of where she was going with all this. "Things have been hard for all of us. Especially you two."
"Me? Nah, I'm fine."
"You've been handling almost everything, and don't think for a moment that we don't see it. You need a break, you're exhausted."
"That's just not likely, Soph."
She laughed, then, quietly. "Well. It wouldn't be remiss, or even out of character if you were to, say, decide that you were going to take a night off. Get out for a drink or two and a game of darts-"
"I don't play darts," Alec chuckled. "More of a pool guy."
"You would if you were stir-crazy and only had the use of one arm, though, wouldn't you?"
---
Parker could break into anywhere, find any thing, unless it traveled on two legs and knew how to evade a tail. Even when he was freezing his ass off. There was no way he was going back to that cell. Apartment. Back to the apartment.
He'd lost her two blocks back, and all it had taken was ducking into the police station.
He spent a few moments in the entryway, perusing a bulletin board full of faces that weren't his, and making note of the snow parking rules, which he'd have to look up at some point anyway, and started working out what came next.
Getting home- getting to his house was going to be a problem, but there wasn't much to pack, really. He could afford to leave the rest. It was shitty, going out like this, but maybe if he called, said goodbye. The crew had it together enough that he probably wouldn't have to explain. Much.
Behind him, the door opened, and the sound of traffic washed in on the chill draft, cutting right through him. He heard footsteps, then, stopping a few feet behind him, but forced himself not to turn.
"You done, Eliot?"
Eliot rolled his eyes, but didn't turn from the board. Read the numbers for three emergency shelters and the tip hotline, and tried to ignore the raw soreness of his lips, the most recent addition to his collection of physical baggage.
Nate continued. "About earlier. Ah. Didn't mean to come off like I did, you know? Don't think anyone did."
"Yeah."
A sidelong glance found Nate nodding his head, already moving on. "You want to come back up? Make lunch or whatever Parker was going on about?"
Ain't that simple. He turned, regarding Nate skeptically. "Sure that's the best way to play this?"
"I don't. How? What do you mean?"
Two officers walked by, talking about the game and barely noticing them, but Eliot waited until they'd passed, all the same. "All this. You and the others, knowing everything. Back there proved it. It's already messed things up."
"Ah."
"And it's not like there's any point in going after this Nicola guy, anyway. I mean. We can screw him over a dozen different ways, but…"
"You don't want revenge?"
"Hell yeah I do, but." Eliot glared at Nate. "But there's only one kind that I can think of right now, and even if I could manage it," he shrugged his shoulder, painfully, for emphasis, "it'll only make things worse."
"We can make sure he doesn't try it again, Eliot. That's what we're here for."
Nate's optimism was a little hard to handle, sometimes. "No. You're here to help out people who've been screwed over. To make sure the bastards of the world get what's coming to them. Not to help us get away from it."
"Seriously? That's how you're seeing this? Cause let me tell you, Eliot. It's just you, thinking that way. You know I've seen that file, that one and some of the others, right?"
"What, Hardison's spilling everything already?"
Nate shook his head. "2005."
Berlin.
"So, what. General signs off on it, and everything's fine? Not that simple, man, and you know it. Even if you're cool with it, you saw Parker back there."
"Yeah, but I also saw her coming back up towards my place, and she wasn't worried about you coming back. She was worried that you weren't."
"What about the others?"
"Sophie reads people better than anyone, and she's been around the block more than once." Nate thought for a moment, then snorted. "You know, the second you were out the door, she was pissed at me?"
Eliot didn't want to ask, it felt like tipping his hand, but it couldn't be avoided. "What about Hardison?"
"Seriously?" Nate snorted. "Yeah, he tends to be a little, what…socially naive, but our resident king slacker's been busting his ass trying to figure this thing out. Believe you me, if he had any doubts, he'd be out the door already."
"Said it yourself, man. Thinks the best of everyone, but it don't mean he's always going to be right."
And there it is. All of it.
Nate's regard was measured, turning smug as he rested his case.
"So don't disappoint him. Come back and show Parker how to make omelets."
---
"Alec Hardison is back. The entire crew came in on the same flight from Pittsburgh."
"Interesting. All for one, it seems."
"You want me to kill him?"
"Circumstances have changed, it seems that I will be able to attend myself. I want to see if Eliot Spencer will crawl on his knees to save his friend, first."
"And if he won't take the bait?"
"Even better. He loses everything."
---
Judging from the too-quiet-to-be-heard conversation between Parker and Eliot as they get to making lunch, one or both had made some apologies.
It didn't mean that lunch wasn't almost unbearably awkward. Sophie did what she could, but eventually, the conversation dwindled down to the weather, and then nothing. And Alec wasn't sure he was helping much on that front, either. Truth be told, he'd rather be back home already.
It would have helped if he'd gotten more sleep, maybe. And it definitely would have been nice if he'd had some idea that it was okay to look across the table at Eliot, headlong. Instead, he spent half the meal with his eyes sliding away every time Eliot's muted, dead-eyed regard turned his direction, and the other half pretending not to notice Sophie's insistent glances.
It was all a little ridiculous.
It was Nate, however, who finally managed to break the ice, about half an hour too late.
"Don't think for a minute that you're going to leave before the kitchen's cleaned up," was all he said, as the first chair was being pushed back from the table.
Eliot frowned, then gestured at his arm with the first grin he'd tried all day, and a moment later Parker was insisting that she'd done all the cooking. More for the sake of keeping the sound of voices going, Sophie lodged a disagreement on the basis that she'd only been following Eliot's instructions.
"I'm on it," Alec volunteered, stacking up a few plates and heading to the counter, regarding the mess reluctantly. He was contemplating just dumping the plates into the washer, food scraps and all, when he sensed movement behind him.
"You screw up his dishwasher, you're going to have to fix it, you know," Eliot said, setting a small stack of plates on the counter and reaching over to turn on the taps.
"Life of the landlord. For an injured guy, you seem to be handling everything just fine, though," he nodded at the new stack of dishes. "Sure you don't want to take over?"
"Um. Ow?" Smirking, he filled his glass with water, setting it aside before turning to lean against the counter to thumb the lid off the bottle he retrieved from his pocket. He palmed once, and set the bottle aside. It didn't rattle as he set it on the counter.
"Still on the antibiotics?" Alec asked, because what's with the Jekyll and Hyde routine probably wouldn't go over so well.
"Last one," he said, before picking up his glass to chase the tablet down. "Finally."
Alec snorted and turned on the garbage disposal. Glancing up to the glass cabinet over the sink, he could see the girls in the living room, talking to Nate as they gathered their jackets. Sophie already had her keys out.
He turned on the garbage disposal and began rinsing everything down the drain. The grinding noise filled the condo, and for a moment, if he spoke, if he asked, only Eliot would be close enough to hear.
Which would be great, if that wasn't exactly what you're worried about. And Eliot was stepping away already, anyhow, but.
"Hey El," he started, watching him in the reflection, letting the sink and disposal run even though he'd finished with both of them moments ago, now.
"Yeah?"
But the moment had passed, and Alec cringed inwardly as he spoke. "You, ah. You ready to go when I'm done with these?"
---
It took him five minutes to get his coat back on and the sling back in place, but it wasn't anywhere near as awkward as the drive out to his house, and nowhere near as long.
He hadn't been alone with Hardison since first thing that morning, when they'd both been scrambling to meet the others for the ride over to the airport, and since then?
Yeah. Things hadn't been much better.
He knew damn well that he wasn't lucky enough to get through the last five minutes of the trip without one or the other of them having to talk, though it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that it would be Hardison. Any minute now.
He wasn't wrong. "So Eliot," Hardison was trying for casual and falling about a mile short.
Like you can do better. He grunted a vague acknowledgement, though, at least he could show that he was listening. Even if he was having a hard time tearing his gaze from the dashboard.
"That. Earlier. I don't want to. I don't know. But. Was any of that about last night? Or just everything?""
Don't give yourself so much credit.
Neither answer would leave his pride intact, but either beat cowardice. "The second one. We're cool."
"All right. Cool." Hardison scowled out the windshield. "You down with changing the subject now?"
"That would be a yes." Eliot snorted, watching the kids crossing at the stoplight. "Uh. So…"
"All right. What're you gonna do when you get home?"
"Not much. Get cleaned up, take the car out for a bit. Hit the library. You?"
"I'm gonna sit my ass down in front of the TV and do absolutely nothing, least until Sophie gets on her calls. Put together another few earpieces. Ain't' gotten around to it since the last time she lost hers."
"Thought you had spares lying around?"
"Don't you start with me, Doctor Mine Keeps Falling Out Because I Head-butted Some Dude at a Skynyrd Concert."
Where the hell am I supposed to go with that? "Whatever man," because a blowoff was always good, when the conversation went nowhere.
But maybe it hadn't been the best route to take, because the silence was more awkward than the near-talking had been.
And there was no doubt that Hardison got it, because he was huffing his annoyance, and rolling his eyes, and then his mouth was moving again.
"So you want to go shoot... darts or something tonight?"
He actually sounded vaguely pissed when he said it. That had to be what set Eliot off, laughing. Wasn't the best move, judging by Hardison's ramrod posture, so he cut himself off, coughing. "Yeah. Okay. Sounds good."
And finally, Hardison relaxed, the tension eased, and he loosened his grip on the wheel. Did that thing like he was trying not to smile like a total nerd.
He'd totally call him on it, on any other day, but.
Ain't like you had the balls to go there.
Besides. It was kind of an ego boost. Sort of…cute? Endearing? There had to be a word for it that didn't sound so…
Whatever.
Still, though, he did a better job not-smiling than Hardison did. And even if there wasn't much left to say, at least it was due to a different kind of anticipation.
It lasted until the car braked to a smooth halt, in front of his house.
"So, uh..." Hardison took his hands of the wheel, trailing off like he was still hell-bent on trying to recreate the earlier awkwardness, so Eliot cut him off.
"Yeah. So." He twisted to undo his seatbelt, and it was only because he knew an advantage when he saw it that he kept moving past his original destination, changing his target midway to catch at Hardison's mouth, almost too quick for him to react.
This wasn't a fight, though. He didn't have to worry about timing for the quickest strike. But it didn't mean he wasn't aware of every move, every sensation running through him, every minute detail of Hardison's reaction
Or the fact that he himself was acting like an idiot, so he reached out to the door handle and pulled away, grinning.
"Darts are cool, but I can still kick your ass at pool one handed, you know. Meet you there 'round eight?"
---
By the time he was getting off the elevator, Alec was realizing two things.
One, it was the middle of the night in Myanmar. And two, holy shit, he said yes.
Dead sure that she'd hear it, he wiped the grin from his face before calling Sophie to let her know she was off the hook on making the calls. Tried to get mad when she pretended she had no idea why they'd have to wait until tomorrow night, instead.
He had hours, yet, until he had to leave. Plenty of time to rest up, chill for a while. Get to work on finishing a few new sets of comms.
By five, he'd finished nine of them.
By six, he'd showered, and every piece of clothing he owned was in a heap on the floor, cast aside for being too formal, too ratty, too obvious, or too sloppy. He knew he was acting a damned fool, diving into the pile to retrieve a different pair of black jeans, but it didn't matter.
He was alone in his apartment. Not like anyone was there to see him.
---
Eliot almost sliced his face off, twice, trying to shave, but it wasn't until the third near-miss that reality started to set in.
He was going on a date. With Hardison. With another dude.
With a guy that he worked with, almost every day.
With the guy who'd found him beat to hell, naked on the floor with a bucket of piss in the corner. Who'd watched him moving like an old man, dressing like a bum, and acting like a freak for weeks, now.
Who'd seen too much, and knew things that nobody was supposed to ever know.
After all that, they entire "guy" thing started looking like a non-issue in comparison.
Except.
Hardison was almost ten years younger, probably had ten years more experience, and could probably have anyone he wanted, if he'd just unplug long enough to look. He had to know that he was getting the short end of the stick. Some beat up mess of a head case who had to stop and consider, briefly, whether or not he'd been overoptimistic, going off the painkillers when he did.
But Hardison had asked, anyway, and it hadn't seemed like a pity thing, and Eliot had agreed. Because really, when it came down to it? It's not like his pride was running all that far off the floor, these days.
And, shit. The look on Hardison's face when he'd accepted? Kind of stunning, really.
So he got to it.
Combed his hair and brushed his teeth. Boots, instead of sneakers. Jeans that fit a bit more loosely than they used to, but it wasn't like Hardison hadn't seen him in worse, and at least the bruising around his face was gone. There wasn't much he could do about the sling, not if he didn't want to be in agony after fifteen minutes, but apart from that?
It would do, as long as he stopped thinking about it.
---
Ron knew something was up the moment he'd laid eyes on Alec, but thankfully, he was on his way out the door, DVDs in hand. "Stepping out for a minute. See that the place is still standing when I get back," he'd said, leaning in conspiratorially. "And try not to have too much sex on the bar. You know how the owners get about that sort of thing."
Alec had to admit, he was a little relieved to see him go.
Casting a look around the place, there were no signs of Eliot, but then, he was a little bit early. He set about finding a place to sit where he could see the door, but the room was packed, there was nowhere.
There was, however, a hand waving him down, at an otherwise empty table at the far end of the room, over by the jukebox, and it took him a moment to recognize the associated individual. Swallowing his disappointment, he made his way over to say hi to James.
"Yo man, what's up?"
Apparently finishing a text message, James shoved the his phone into his back pocket. He looked miserable. Stressed out.
Probably didn't get the job, then, Alec recognized the signs. Little drunk, too. Guy ain't been right in months.
"Not much," James had to yell, over the noise. "How're you?"
"Me? I'm good. He stood by the table, feeling vaguely awkward. "How's the job search going?"
"What?"
"The job search."
"Hang on, I can't hear." James leaned in, trying to listen, and Alec repeated himself. "Oh. It's fine," he laughed, mirthlessly. "Got some prospects. Actually, there's something I wanted to run past you, see if you know anything."
"Okay, shoot."
"What?"
"I said-" Alec realized he was yelling over the blaring music. "It's too loud."
James shook his head again, and cocked his head towards the side door. Checking his watch, he still had a few minutes to eight, so Alec nodded, and followed him outside into the alley.
It was a dumb move.
He was only beginning to register the sight of James being shoved aside, tumbling against the dumpster, when rough hands grabbed at his right arm, tight. Another set joined in as he started to react.
There was a pinch in his neck, and then vertigo, worse than any height he'd seen.
---
Eliot got to the bar a little less fashionably late than he'd intended, partially because he'd misjudged the drive time from the library, and partially because the only alternative to shoving down on the gas would have been to slam on the breaks. Turn tail and run home.
But it was fine. Checking again to make sure the keys were in his pockets, he opened the door and braced himself against the music inside.
The place was packed. Apparently they hadn't been the only ones with this idea, though a cursory scan of the room informed him that he was the only one there to appreciate it. Hardison hadn't shown, yet.
He ran into James, almost literally, on his way towards the end of the bar, but the guy looked to be in a hurry, eyes trained on the phone in his hand as he nodded a quick greeting and continued out towards the door.
As stressed as the guy had looked, he probably didn't need to be sitting in a bar, anyway.
A group of four had just vacated their seats, leaving empty glasses behind, so Eliot sat at the bar. It took a few minutes before the bartender made it down to his end, by which point he'd already decided on the weakest beer they had on tap, since he probably still had trace amounts of antibiotics and painkillers running through his system.
It tasted damned fine, though, and he had to remind himself to slow down.
From his perch at the bar, he watched the crowd for a while. Picked out Ron's boyfriend…Lee, his name was Lee, deep in conversation at one of the back tables with some redheaded woman. Up front, there was a ridiculous kid with glitter around his eyes trying to talk his way past the bouncer and not having much luck, and in between the two points was every bar in every city in every state. Drinks, waiters, people getting change for the pool tables.
A few minutes later, he saw the kid sliding through the side door, sneaking in.
Tamping down on the nervousness he was resolved not to feel, he double checked his cell phone against the clock on the wall by the bathrooms, gauging how far ahead they'd set it, and was surprised to find that it wasn't set to bar time. He'd already been there for twenty minutes.
If he called now, he'd come across as a total nag, no doubt about it. That had been one of the things that the books he'd furtively skimmed, had agreed on. The other was to just be yourself.
None of them, however, told him what to do in the event that it was his self that was probably the fucking problem in the first place.
---
Ten minutes later, his beer was almost finished, and he was wondering just how many people were able to read the neon sign reading Stood Up that had to be flashing in the air over his head.
Five minutes later, and the irritation wasn't going anywhere. Hardison wasn't even picking up his phone, and he hadn't sent any messages.
Could be driving, he wanted to reason, but it sounded a little pathetic.
At least he didn’t have anyone there to say it out loud to. He thought about grabbing another drink, but with the chemicals still in his system, it probably wasn't the best idea.
And it wasn't like he had that much of a reason to be stay.
Outside, he slid the phone open and began thumbing in a message.
I showed. You didn't. See you around.
He pressed send, and didn't even wait to see if it had gone through before shoving it into his pocket. He needed that hand to get out his keys.
---
Chapter 15
Chapter 14
The morning was a panicked litany of alarm clocks going off an hour late and two hours early, weak coffee, bad traffic, and hassles at the rental return. The sky was starting to cloud over, threatening to make moods even worse, and the 10:14 boarding was already being called as they rushed towards the terminal. They barely made it.
Eliot was the last to board, barely settling into his seat before the pilot began his announcements.
Intent on taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he was finally sitting down, he glanced past Nate and across the aisle at Hardison's profile, and felt his relief head spin into something else entirely.
Stubble just catching at the edge of his lips as he tilts his head, trying for a better angle.
Hardison pulling back, but not as far as he'd been before. Still close enough to see everything, read his mind, if Eliot let him. Still close enough that there was no space that Eliot could see that didn't have him in it.
Eliot swallowed thickly enough that it caught Nate's attention. "You doin' alright?"
"I'm fine," he answered, wincing at the tightness of his own voice, but it didn't matter. Nate was already turning back to his book, opening it up and finding his page.
Eliot kept his focus on the dreary tarmac outside the window, convincing himself that the flaps at the back of the wing really were that fascinating, and wondered, idly, if maybe he'd be able to catch some sleep.
It wasn't fucking likely.
They took off at some point. He watched as the ground slipped away, cars becoming glints on the roads, and the roads becoming nearly invisible barriers between patches of brown and green. A few more minutes, and gray washed in as the clouds finally obscured even those from view.
Maybe they were getting inside, too. He was starting to feel numb, okay, distant. Muted, drifting with his forehead pressed against the plastic wall, his knit cap enough pillow for now as he stared unseeingly at nothing.
The light started to change, though, as they clambered out over the top of the clouds, and suddenly, everything was too bright.
Outside, the sky's growing light. The sun will be up soon, and it's surreal to think that everywhere else, time had been marching steadily onward.
Wanting to say something, point it out, maybe, but getting derailed by the small curl at the edge of Hardison's mouth, the glint of canine just peeking through the near smile, because he was in on the joke, too.
Awareness creeping in on the realization that whatever it was, whether it was a "we're all good" thing or a "shut the hell up" thing, an apology, distraction, experiment, or a just really bad idea- whatever it meant when all this started, he'd wanted it.
Still does. It's terrifying and it might screw things up, but for now he can afford it. He pushes thought away, though, because he doesn't want to miss anything, not right now.
He can freak out later. Right now, he's busy.
---
Across the aisle, Eliot was still staring out the window resolutely enough that when the stewardess had come by with the coffee cart, Nate decided not to disturb him.
And it was just as well, really, because seriously? This was fucked.
Alec yanked his laptop out of the bag the moment the announcement came on that it was okay to do so. Checked to make sure that it was in offline mode, and shook his head derisively. Ain't like I can't fly the damn thing from here.
Next to him, Sophie stretched her back before resettling with her book, some thing about Mary, Queen of Scots, with a dreary portrait on the cover.
He pulled his headphones on and set to work. He wouldn’t be able to find anything new, not until they landed, but he could start cleaning everything up, and right now, the tedium was distraction enough.
You kissed him.
Or not.
Okay. You spent a very long time engaging in make-out-like behavior, against all your better judgment. And you knew damn well it would turn out like this.
Maybe if they'd had more than ten minutes between waking and running out the door. Two minutes to, who knows, clear things up, find out where they stood, see if they were fucking okay.
Because if Eliot had been planning on being too disgusted to face him, a little warning would have been nice.
The translations were completed, so after creating a folder and naming it "Burma Shitstorm," he began sorting the files for later access. He tried to read only as much as he had to in order to keep them organized, but details, here and there, kept catching his eye.
Eliot's name on scanned papers, surrounded by words that didn't fit him any more. Had him all wrong. Even with everything Alec already knew, they didn't add up to any sort of sense, and if they were trying to describe the man Alec had kissed, they were even more lacking than he'd thought.
Maybe the paper trail hadn't caught everything. This, what he had on his computer, was Eliot, decontextualized. If the bits and pieces didn't add up to the man across the way, maybe they belonged to the stranger Eliot was pretending to be.
He wanted to delete every last one of the files, toss the hard drive out the window, because it wasn't like he needed them, really. He knew all he needed to know.
Like how there's a good chance that you were the first dude he's made out with. Ever. He's got what, like, ten years on you, and he's just now figuring it out? Or how he's still probably dosed up from…what was it? Oh yeah. Being kidnapped. Or how you've been tearing through his history like it was nothing?
Give the guy a break.
The understanding would have felt better if it hadn't been followed up with the certainty that any one of those, on their own, would have been enough to jolt anyone up towards the door.
He was probably going to leave.
Sophie glanced up when she realized he'd been scowling intently at back of the seat in front of him, but then she turned the page and read onward, still unaware of the mess that he'd caused.
Fuck.
---
The plastic of the airplane's inner wall was cool against his forehead, where the cap was slipping back, but the vibrations were starting to drill into his skull, down his neck, and echoing uncomfortably into his shoulder.
Eliot sat up again, using his movement to cover a cursory scan of his surroundings. Up ahead, on the other side, Parker was taking up two seats, her legs and sneaker-clad feet the only part of her that was visible.
Behind her, Hardison was staring angrily at his laptop, and if he knew he was being watched, he didn't let on. Not one to leave it to chance, though, Eliot tore his eyes away. He'd seen enough as it was.
Besides. He wasn't the one that started it.
Before it was the first kiss, back when it was still the kiss that hasn't happened yet.
Leaning in, lips brushing a little rough before pulling back, but not away. Hardison's voice is a near whisper when he asks, "This okay?" Hesitant, nervous, even, and it's ridiculous, seeing as how he's still got Eliot's breath clinging to his lips, and he's thrown by it, too, so now it's Eliot's turn.
"Yeah."
The second and third kisses are small brief things, but they're everything they need to be, and the next time Eliot gets enough space to breathe, to look, Hardison's focus is on him so fully that Eliot will never not feel it. Never not know.
He brings his hand up to the side of Hardison's neck, it's warm under his fingers as they wrap to fit the curve. It's a deliberate move, because Eliot has to show him that he gets it, he really does. Tactical, too, since Eliot needs to pull him in closer if he's going to make sure the message gets through.
Less than half a day later, Hardison wouldn't even look at him.
---
Sophie and Nate were both getting twitchy, either eager to get off the plane, tired of all this stillness, or becoming aware that something was going on. At least Parker was still asleep in the row ahead, but the stewardess in the aisle, making like she was about to lean over to wake her.
They'd be landing in about ten minutes, and the world would reorganize them into a different array. Probably not one where he and Eliot could ignore each other so easily.
He had ten minutes to figure this out.
So you kissed him. A lot. And he was into it. Take everything else out of the equation, that's a good thing.
But it's bad math.
Right.
Temporary insanity aside, how did you get to that point?
Alec began listing the possibilities.
He's hot. So were a lot of people.
He was freaking out, and you're a sucker for that sort of thing, was likewise turned down.
The timing seemed right would have made sense, if he'd ever known himself to have predilections towards being turned on by unpleasant war stories. Acknowledging that, however, shunted his thoughts in a more useful direction.
Bad scene. So you tried to ignore it, and that was what you came up with. And he played along. Something about it resonated, but it was an unbalanced equation, still missing something.
The intensity, maybe, or the fact that his jaw still ached hours later.
The fact that he was trying to come up with a solution for it at all, when it was probably a lot easier to just let it go.
The fact that, even now, With Eliot seven feet and a thousand miles away, he wanted to do it again. Better. Get it right.
It wasn't a solution, yet, but it was a new equation. Regarding the tray, stowed in its upright position, Alec relaxed back into his seat, aware of shifting and the downward movement of the plane as it settled into a new course, destination locked in.
It's some time after the first few, only this time, the kiss doesn't waver, it's insistent and sure. It's lips as rough as his own pressing in. It's the flush spreading up along the curve of Eliot's ear, inches away, the closest it's ever been.
It's his hand curving along the edge of Eliot's chest, fingers slotting perfectly between the ridges of his ribcage, even under the sweatshirt.
It's mouths easing open and the startling shock of teeth tapping teeth, tilting for a better angle because the only other option is stopping.
It's falling, fast, and not minding at all.
---
They're going to ask about what happened.
The fasten seatbelt signs were turned on for their descent, and not a moment too soon. He wanted to get home, away. Get some space to fucking think, for a minute, without having to deal with everyone's reactions.
They're going to need to know.
Because that would come soon enough. And maybe he'd have enough of a game plan together that he could get through this without ruining everything.
It's all going to come out.
Hardison fell into step next to them as they made their way towards the parking lot, grinning, and Eliot hated the spark it sent through him. It felt an awful lot like hope, so he did what he could to stamp it out, turning his attention to Parker, who was talking about lunch, and omelets, and how Eliot had promised to show her how to make them.
Every condemned man got a last meal. There wasn't much sense in fighting it.
---
"I've come to talk to you about Nathan Ford's crew."
"No."
"No I haven't, or no you won't talk to me?"
"Take your pick."
"It's interesting, you know. Alec Hardison got himself distracted a few months back, working a job. Got sloppy. Seems he was too busy showing off to clean up after his crew."
"Evidence. You're talking evidence?"
"Almost enough to hang the lot of them. Unfortunately, and more to the point, their trail's gone cold. They've scattered. I'm not looking for a miracle, here. But if we don't track Alec Hardison down in the next few days, we've got nothing to take to the judge."
Colin Mason beamed, leaning forward across the table. "How can I be of service?"
---
Alec was the last one to filter into Nate's apartment, but didn't make it ten feet before hearing, "So did you find anything, or are we booking a flight back in three days?" Nate, he sometimes forgot, wasn't a particularly patient man.
"Looks like we might have a lead, yeah." Dropping his bags on the couch wasn't an evasion, it was just what people did when they came into a room. He checked his watch, fairly certain that he'd been in a good mood not too long ago.
Nate looked to Eliot, Parker and Sophie following his gaze. "Care to elaborate?"
"Uh. Yeah." Eliot scratched his head, apparently intent on the floorboards, but another second ticked by, and he began.
"It was Myanmar, few years back. Went in to retrieve some prisoners. Job went south. Prisoners didn't make it, two guards didn't, either. Had to bail, skin out to Thailand for a bit."
He'd rehearsed the report. Gotten his lines down, whittled them into neutrality. Nate and Parker were impassive, which had probably been the whole point.
Sophie probably suspected, though, and though her eyes narrowed, she wasn't calling him on it, yet. "So what's the connection?"
"Got tagged by a sniper when I was crossing the border. My arm." He tilted his head to indicate. "If it wasn't Mikel Dayan pulling the trigger, she knows who did."
"You didn't mention that that before," Alec interjected, startled, but it rolled off. Eliot obviously wasn't about to start explaining any more than he had to, but something flashed across his face, almost too quick to catch.
Alec wasn't sure that he'd seen it until a moment had passed, and by then it was too late.
"You didn't tell any of us about any of it." Parker's accusation hung in the air, solidifying, gaining mass.
Eliot was the first to snap under the weight of it.
"Okay. You know what? No, I didn't." His angry scowl pinned each of them in turn as he raised his jaw in defiance "It wasn't any of your business. Wasn't even mine anymore. It's old news. Old bad news, and not even the worst of it, if you gotta know, but it's over and done with." He snorted, coiled to strike as he glared at Parker. "And don't pretend like you want me telling your bedtime stories."
"She does have a point, Eliot," Nate was apparently looking to get his ass handed to him. "You didn't mean to get dragged back into this, and I know you didn't mean to bring us down with you, but here we are."
Eliot was flushed and furious, almost shaking with it, but he didn't take the bait. Just raised his eyebrows and sliced his hand through the air. "Exactly. I never asked, so back the hell off."
His glare skimmed over Alec as he turned, and the door slammed behind him as he left.
Staring after him, it wasn't clear, exactly, what they were supposed to do now, and it was a short while before anyone was looking anyone in the face.
It was Parker who moved first, sending a silent message to Nate, which was met with a brief nod. Permission granted or order given, Alec couldn't be sure, she was crossing the floor, pausing to listen before slipping out into the hallway to follow.
A beleaguered sigh drew his attention back towards the couch, Nate's was already there.
"Okay," Sophie began, "Would you mind terribly if we could stop acting like children? Nate, you knew about his past, more than any of us. I understand that you're upset, and that we all have reason to be, but you can't just wield that knowledge like a sword."
"And what? Like sweeping it under the rug and pretending everything's fine is going to solve anything?" They regarded each other's annoyance while Alec wondered if there was any way he could possibly escape without getting caught in the crossfire.
He slid towards the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.
Nate deflated, after a moment, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Okay. You're right. I'll clear it up with him in a bit. Until then, we've got more important things to run down. First off, Mikel Dayan."
It was purpose, focus, and Alec had never been so relieved to start talking about a woman that could kill him with her pinky and a paperclip.
"Whatever else is going on, Eliot's right about one thing. We don't need her. Look here." Ignoring the clock readout at the corner of the screen, Alec transferred his desktop to the large monitors, tapped a few keys, and brought up the map. "The red dots are her recent known locations. Going by the dates, this," he ran the animation and lines began to connect the dots. "This insanity is her trail over the past year. She's been everywhere but Myanmar. Hasn't even hit any of the bordering countries, and going by the dates on the places she has hit, ain't no way she could have fit it in without using some form of teleportation."
"You sure about that?"
"Well, I am leaving out wormholes, but I'm pretty sure if one opened up in the middle of Cardiff, or somewhere, it would've made the papers. Probably. One thing that did get noticed, though. He brought up another window, showing the grainy scanned articles he'd found. "A marketplace shootout, few miles north of Dawei in '03."
"What're we looking at?" Nate squinted over the top of his glasses. "Newspaper stories?"
"Nothing in English, but I ran them through translation. It ain't exact, but…the gist of it is that the guards that, ah." Eliot killed. "They were members of the military force that's been running the place into the ground for the past fifty years. They were lauded in the local propaganda rags as heroes."
Sophie glared at the ceiling in disbelief. "So, great. Eliot crossed a military junta, and they're looking to bring him to justice?"
"Nah, that doesn't fit," Nate reasoned, after brief consideration. "Their government, if you can call it that, controls the media and forces their own citizens into labor. Getting justice for two low-ranked soldiers doesn't fit the M.O." He scowled at the map for a moment, calling over his shoulder. "Revenge might, though." Nate paced the room a few times, his eyes sharp but focused inward.
"Okay," he announced, coming to a stop. "So this Nicola guy knew to track Eliot down. He would have had to get the information to do so. So we need to find, ah. We need to know who's been looking at the original case files."
"C'mon, man. We're talking boxes of molding paperwork in basements on the other side of the planet, and I'm not seeing any indication that they're putting any sort of premium on good recordkeeping practices. If there is a chain of custody somewhere, it's not electronic. I'd actually have to get out there, and there's no way you're getting my ass back on a plane before I get a shower and-"
"No," Nate shook his head. "You're backup on this one. Sophie, you're up on this one. If Hardison gets you the numbers, can you talk someone into getting you what we need?"
Sophie was already practicing her bureaucratese. "You understand, of course, the volume of documentation that comes through this office, so it is imperative that you present the information in as complete a format as possible, otherwise the regulatory department will be forced to step in."
"All right, good." he laughed, pleased, his face going a little awkward when he realized Sophie was smiling back at him. Pulling his sleeve back to check the time, he began muttering to himself. "Okay. I'm going to track down Eliot, find out if Parker's cooled him off or just made things worse."
Yeah, right. Just like that. "You know where he went?"
"I have my suspicions," Nate called over his shoulder. "Back in a bit."
Alec peeled at the bottle's label as he searched out the numbers Sophie would need for her calls. It was harder going than it should've been. It was hard to concentrate. What it meant that he hadn't returned, what would happen when he did. If things would be playing out differently if last night hadn't happened.
He was at it for a while, long enough to forget that Sophie was still there.
"He's probably quite tired of having us putting his entire life under a microscope, wouldn't you think?" Sophie was looking down at the cell phone in her hand, her eyes scanning over some text message she'd received, probably from Nate. Sliding it shut, her full regard turned to Alec.
Alec turned and raised the bottle halfway to his mouth, having forgotten that it had been empty for a while, now. He'd get up for a new one in a while. He settled for toying with the neck of the bottle, spinning it between thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, but…Ain't like we've got some nefarious purpose, here. We are trying to help him."
"Which only makes it worse. He is not exactly the type to ask for help."
"So what do we do? Just drop it?"
"No, of course not. But to be honest, I don't know that there's anything we can do, other than let him storm out when he needs to, and pretend we didn't notice when comes back."
Alec snorted. "Way ahead of you. I'm all over that particular course of action, believe me."
"No, you're not." Sophie evidently thought he was missing something important. "You were going to corner him in the kitchen the moment he gets back, and make sure he was okay."
"Really," Alec was puzzled. "How do you figure-"
Sophie didn't wait for him to finish. "You keep fiddling with an empty bottle, and you've been checking the time every two minutes since he's left. You're waiting until he's in there, so you can run into him."
"No, I'm merely distracted by trying to figure everything out." It sounded weak, even to him, and the only thing for it was to make sure Sophie didn't take it as confirmation.
The fact that she'd been right had was entirely beside the point. He turned resolutely to the screen, pretending to be engrossed, until a damp chill was pressed into his bicep.
He smiled as he accepted the open bottle, but there was no way he was going to thank her.
"It's okay, you know," she said, and Alec had to admit, again, that he had no idea where that one had come from.
"What do you mean?"
"To worry about him. Even if he doesn't seem to want it."
"I wasn't-" he broke off, not knowing what he'd even meant to say, but Sophie took it in stride.
"Hardison," Sophie leaned against the side of the couch, and he was suddenly very aware of where she was going with all this. "Things have been hard for all of us. Especially you two."
"Me? Nah, I'm fine."
"You've been handling almost everything, and don't think for a moment that we don't see it. You need a break, you're exhausted."
"That's just not likely, Soph."
She laughed, then, quietly. "Well. It wouldn't be remiss, or even out of character if you were to, say, decide that you were going to take a night off. Get out for a drink or two and a game of darts-"
"I don't play darts," Alec chuckled. "More of a pool guy."
"You would if you were stir-crazy and only had the use of one arm, though, wouldn't you?"
---
Parker could break into anywhere, find any thing, unless it traveled on two legs and knew how to evade a tail. Even when he was freezing his ass off. There was no way he was going back to that cell. Apartment. Back to the apartment.
He'd lost her two blocks back, and all it had taken was ducking into the police station.
He spent a few moments in the entryway, perusing a bulletin board full of faces that weren't his, and making note of the snow parking rules, which he'd have to look up at some point anyway, and started working out what came next.
Getting home- getting to his house was going to be a problem, but there wasn't much to pack, really. He could afford to leave the rest. It was shitty, going out like this, but maybe if he called, said goodbye. The crew had it together enough that he probably wouldn't have to explain. Much.
Behind him, the door opened, and the sound of traffic washed in on the chill draft, cutting right through him. He heard footsteps, then, stopping a few feet behind him, but forced himself not to turn.
"You done, Eliot?"
Eliot rolled his eyes, but didn't turn from the board. Read the numbers for three emergency shelters and the tip hotline, and tried to ignore the raw soreness of his lips, the most recent addition to his collection of physical baggage.
Nate continued. "About earlier. Ah. Didn't mean to come off like I did, you know? Don't think anyone did."
"Yeah."
A sidelong glance found Nate nodding his head, already moving on. "You want to come back up? Make lunch or whatever Parker was going on about?"
Ain't that simple. He turned, regarding Nate skeptically. "Sure that's the best way to play this?"
"I don't. How? What do you mean?"
Two officers walked by, talking about the game and barely noticing them, but Eliot waited until they'd passed, all the same. "All this. You and the others, knowing everything. Back there proved it. It's already messed things up."
"Ah."
"And it's not like there's any point in going after this Nicola guy, anyway. I mean. We can screw him over a dozen different ways, but…"
"You don't want revenge?"
"Hell yeah I do, but." Eliot glared at Nate. "But there's only one kind that I can think of right now, and even if I could manage it," he shrugged his shoulder, painfully, for emphasis, "it'll only make things worse."
"We can make sure he doesn't try it again, Eliot. That's what we're here for."
Nate's optimism was a little hard to handle, sometimes. "No. You're here to help out people who've been screwed over. To make sure the bastards of the world get what's coming to them. Not to help us get away from it."
"Seriously? That's how you're seeing this? Cause let me tell you, Eliot. It's just you, thinking that way. You know I've seen that file, that one and some of the others, right?"
"What, Hardison's spilling everything already?"
Nate shook his head. "2005."
Berlin.
"So, what. General signs off on it, and everything's fine? Not that simple, man, and you know it. Even if you're cool with it, you saw Parker back there."
"Yeah, but I also saw her coming back up towards my place, and she wasn't worried about you coming back. She was worried that you weren't."
"What about the others?"
"Sophie reads people better than anyone, and she's been around the block more than once." Nate thought for a moment, then snorted. "You know, the second you were out the door, she was pissed at me?"
Eliot didn't want to ask, it felt like tipping his hand, but it couldn't be avoided. "What about Hardison?"
"Seriously?" Nate snorted. "Yeah, he tends to be a little, what…socially naive, but our resident king slacker's been busting his ass trying to figure this thing out. Believe you me, if he had any doubts, he'd be out the door already."
"Said it yourself, man. Thinks the best of everyone, but it don't mean he's always going to be right."
And there it is. All of it.
Nate's regard was measured, turning smug as he rested his case.
"So don't disappoint him. Come back and show Parker how to make omelets."
---
"Alec Hardison is back. The entire crew came in on the same flight from Pittsburgh."
"Interesting. All for one, it seems."
"You want me to kill him?"
"Circumstances have changed, it seems that I will be able to attend myself. I want to see if Eliot Spencer will crawl on his knees to save his friend, first."
"And if he won't take the bait?"
"Even better. He loses everything."
---
Judging from the too-quiet-to-be-heard conversation between Parker and Eliot as they get to making lunch, one or both had made some apologies.
It didn't mean that lunch wasn't almost unbearably awkward. Sophie did what she could, but eventually, the conversation dwindled down to the weather, and then nothing. And Alec wasn't sure he was helping much on that front, either. Truth be told, he'd rather be back home already.
It would have helped if he'd gotten more sleep, maybe. And it definitely would have been nice if he'd had some idea that it was okay to look across the table at Eliot, headlong. Instead, he spent half the meal with his eyes sliding away every time Eliot's muted, dead-eyed regard turned his direction, and the other half pretending not to notice Sophie's insistent glances.
It was all a little ridiculous.
It was Nate, however, who finally managed to break the ice, about half an hour too late.
"Don't think for a minute that you're going to leave before the kitchen's cleaned up," was all he said, as the first chair was being pushed back from the table.
Eliot frowned, then gestured at his arm with the first grin he'd tried all day, and a moment later Parker was insisting that she'd done all the cooking. More for the sake of keeping the sound of voices going, Sophie lodged a disagreement on the basis that she'd only been following Eliot's instructions.
"I'm on it," Alec volunteered, stacking up a few plates and heading to the counter, regarding the mess reluctantly. He was contemplating just dumping the plates into the washer, food scraps and all, when he sensed movement behind him.
"You screw up his dishwasher, you're going to have to fix it, you know," Eliot said, setting a small stack of plates on the counter and reaching over to turn on the taps.
"Life of the landlord. For an injured guy, you seem to be handling everything just fine, though," he nodded at the new stack of dishes. "Sure you don't want to take over?"
"Um. Ow?" Smirking, he filled his glass with water, setting it aside before turning to lean against the counter to thumb the lid off the bottle he retrieved from his pocket. He palmed once, and set the bottle aside. It didn't rattle as he set it on the counter.
"Still on the antibiotics?" Alec asked, because what's with the Jekyll and Hyde routine probably wouldn't go over so well.
"Last one," he said, before picking up his glass to chase the tablet down. "Finally."
Alec snorted and turned on the garbage disposal. Glancing up to the glass cabinet over the sink, he could see the girls in the living room, talking to Nate as they gathered their jackets. Sophie already had her keys out.
He turned on the garbage disposal and began rinsing everything down the drain. The grinding noise filled the condo, and for a moment, if he spoke, if he asked, only Eliot would be close enough to hear.
Which would be great, if that wasn't exactly what you're worried about. And Eliot was stepping away already, anyhow, but.
"Hey El," he started, watching him in the reflection, letting the sink and disposal run even though he'd finished with both of them moments ago, now.
"Yeah?"
But the moment had passed, and Alec cringed inwardly as he spoke. "You, ah. You ready to go when I'm done with these?"
---
It took him five minutes to get his coat back on and the sling back in place, but it wasn't anywhere near as awkward as the drive out to his house, and nowhere near as long.
He hadn't been alone with Hardison since first thing that morning, when they'd both been scrambling to meet the others for the ride over to the airport, and since then?
Yeah. Things hadn't been much better.
He knew damn well that he wasn't lucky enough to get through the last five minutes of the trip without one or the other of them having to talk, though it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that it would be Hardison. Any minute now.
He wasn't wrong. "So Eliot," Hardison was trying for casual and falling about a mile short.
Like you can do better. He grunted a vague acknowledgement, though, at least he could show that he was listening. Even if he was having a hard time tearing his gaze from the dashboard.
"That. Earlier. I don't want to. I don't know. But. Was any of that about last night? Or just everything?""
Don't give yourself so much credit.
Neither answer would leave his pride intact, but either beat cowardice. "The second one. We're cool."
"All right. Cool." Hardison scowled out the windshield. "You down with changing the subject now?"
"That would be a yes." Eliot snorted, watching the kids crossing at the stoplight. "Uh. So…"
"All right. What're you gonna do when you get home?"
"Not much. Get cleaned up, take the car out for a bit. Hit the library. You?"
"I'm gonna sit my ass down in front of the TV and do absolutely nothing, least until Sophie gets on her calls. Put together another few earpieces. Ain't' gotten around to it since the last time she lost hers."
"Thought you had spares lying around?"
"Don't you start with me, Doctor Mine Keeps Falling Out Because I Head-butted Some Dude at a Skynyrd Concert."
Where the hell am I supposed to go with that? "Whatever man," because a blowoff was always good, when the conversation went nowhere.
But maybe it hadn't been the best route to take, because the silence was more awkward than the near-talking had been.
And there was no doubt that Hardison got it, because he was huffing his annoyance, and rolling his eyes, and then his mouth was moving again.
"So you want to go shoot... darts or something tonight?"
He actually sounded vaguely pissed when he said it. That had to be what set Eliot off, laughing. Wasn't the best move, judging by Hardison's ramrod posture, so he cut himself off, coughing. "Yeah. Okay. Sounds good."
And finally, Hardison relaxed, the tension eased, and he loosened his grip on the wheel. Did that thing like he was trying not to smile like a total nerd.
He'd totally call him on it, on any other day, but.
Ain't like you had the balls to go there.
Besides. It was kind of an ego boost. Sort of…cute? Endearing? There had to be a word for it that didn't sound so…
Whatever.
Still, though, he did a better job not-smiling than Hardison did. And even if there wasn't much left to say, at least it was due to a different kind of anticipation.
It lasted until the car braked to a smooth halt, in front of his house.
"So, uh..." Hardison took his hands of the wheel, trailing off like he was still hell-bent on trying to recreate the earlier awkwardness, so Eliot cut him off.
"Yeah. So." He twisted to undo his seatbelt, and it was only because he knew an advantage when he saw it that he kept moving past his original destination, changing his target midway to catch at Hardison's mouth, almost too quick for him to react.
This wasn't a fight, though. He didn't have to worry about timing for the quickest strike. But it didn't mean he wasn't aware of every move, every sensation running through him, every minute detail of Hardison's reaction
Or the fact that he himself was acting like an idiot, so he reached out to the door handle and pulled away, grinning.
"Darts are cool, but I can still kick your ass at pool one handed, you know. Meet you there 'round eight?"
---
By the time he was getting off the elevator, Alec was realizing two things.
One, it was the middle of the night in Myanmar. And two, holy shit, he said yes.
Dead sure that she'd hear it, he wiped the grin from his face before calling Sophie to let her know she was off the hook on making the calls. Tried to get mad when she pretended she had no idea why they'd have to wait until tomorrow night, instead.
He had hours, yet, until he had to leave. Plenty of time to rest up, chill for a while. Get to work on finishing a few new sets of comms.
By five, he'd finished nine of them.
By six, he'd showered, and every piece of clothing he owned was in a heap on the floor, cast aside for being too formal, too ratty, too obvious, or too sloppy. He knew he was acting a damned fool, diving into the pile to retrieve a different pair of black jeans, but it didn't matter.
He was alone in his apartment. Not like anyone was there to see him.
---
Eliot almost sliced his face off, twice, trying to shave, but it wasn't until the third near-miss that reality started to set in.
He was going on a date. With Hardison. With another dude.
With a guy that he worked with, almost every day.
With the guy who'd found him beat to hell, naked on the floor with a bucket of piss in the corner. Who'd watched him moving like an old man, dressing like a bum, and acting like a freak for weeks, now.
Who'd seen too much, and knew things that nobody was supposed to ever know.
After all that, they entire "guy" thing started looking like a non-issue in comparison.
Except.
Hardison was almost ten years younger, probably had ten years more experience, and could probably have anyone he wanted, if he'd just unplug long enough to look. He had to know that he was getting the short end of the stick. Some beat up mess of a head case who had to stop and consider, briefly, whether or not he'd been overoptimistic, going off the painkillers when he did.
But Hardison had asked, anyway, and it hadn't seemed like a pity thing, and Eliot had agreed. Because really, when it came down to it? It's not like his pride was running all that far off the floor, these days.
And, shit. The look on Hardison's face when he'd accepted? Kind of stunning, really.
So he got to it.
Combed his hair and brushed his teeth. Boots, instead of sneakers. Jeans that fit a bit more loosely than they used to, but it wasn't like Hardison hadn't seen him in worse, and at least the bruising around his face was gone. There wasn't much he could do about the sling, not if he didn't want to be in agony after fifteen minutes, but apart from that?
It would do, as long as he stopped thinking about it.
---
Ron knew something was up the moment he'd laid eyes on Alec, but thankfully, he was on his way out the door, DVDs in hand. "Stepping out for a minute. See that the place is still standing when I get back," he'd said, leaning in conspiratorially. "And try not to have too much sex on the bar. You know how the owners get about that sort of thing."
Alec had to admit, he was a little relieved to see him go.
Casting a look around the place, there were no signs of Eliot, but then, he was a little bit early. He set about finding a place to sit where he could see the door, but the room was packed, there was nowhere.
There was, however, a hand waving him down, at an otherwise empty table at the far end of the room, over by the jukebox, and it took him a moment to recognize the associated individual. Swallowing his disappointment, he made his way over to say hi to James.
"Yo man, what's up?"
Apparently finishing a text message, James shoved the his phone into his back pocket. He looked miserable. Stressed out.
Probably didn't get the job, then, Alec recognized the signs. Little drunk, too. Guy ain't been right in months.
"Not much," James had to yell, over the noise. "How're you?"
"Me? I'm good. He stood by the table, feeling vaguely awkward. "How's the job search going?"
"What?"
"The job search."
"Hang on, I can't hear." James leaned in, trying to listen, and Alec repeated himself. "Oh. It's fine," he laughed, mirthlessly. "Got some prospects. Actually, there's something I wanted to run past you, see if you know anything."
"Okay, shoot."
"What?"
"I said-" Alec realized he was yelling over the blaring music. "It's too loud."
James shook his head again, and cocked his head towards the side door. Checking his watch, he still had a few minutes to eight, so Alec nodded, and followed him outside into the alley.
It was a dumb move.
He was only beginning to register the sight of James being shoved aside, tumbling against the dumpster, when rough hands grabbed at his right arm, tight. Another set joined in as he started to react.
There was a pinch in his neck, and then vertigo, worse than any height he'd seen.
---
Eliot got to the bar a little less fashionably late than he'd intended, partially because he'd misjudged the drive time from the library, and partially because the only alternative to shoving down on the gas would have been to slam on the breaks. Turn tail and run home.
But it was fine. Checking again to make sure the keys were in his pockets, he opened the door and braced himself against the music inside.
The place was packed. Apparently they hadn't been the only ones with this idea, though a cursory scan of the room informed him that he was the only one there to appreciate it. Hardison hadn't shown, yet.
He ran into James, almost literally, on his way towards the end of the bar, but the guy looked to be in a hurry, eyes trained on the phone in his hand as he nodded a quick greeting and continued out towards the door.
As stressed as the guy had looked, he probably didn't need to be sitting in a bar, anyway.
A group of four had just vacated their seats, leaving empty glasses behind, so Eliot sat at the bar. It took a few minutes before the bartender made it down to his end, by which point he'd already decided on the weakest beer they had on tap, since he probably still had trace amounts of antibiotics and painkillers running through his system.
It tasted damned fine, though, and he had to remind himself to slow down.
From his perch at the bar, he watched the crowd for a while. Picked out Ron's boyfriend…Lee, his name was Lee, deep in conversation at one of the back tables with some redheaded woman. Up front, there was a ridiculous kid with glitter around his eyes trying to talk his way past the bouncer and not having much luck, and in between the two points was every bar in every city in every state. Drinks, waiters, people getting change for the pool tables.
A few minutes later, he saw the kid sliding through the side door, sneaking in.
Tamping down on the nervousness he was resolved not to feel, he double checked his cell phone against the clock on the wall by the bathrooms, gauging how far ahead they'd set it, and was surprised to find that it wasn't set to bar time. He'd already been there for twenty minutes.
If he called now, he'd come across as a total nag, no doubt about it. That had been one of the things that the books he'd furtively skimmed, had agreed on. The other was to just be yourself.
None of them, however, told him what to do in the event that it was his self that was probably the fucking problem in the first place.
---
Ten minutes later, his beer was almost finished, and he was wondering just how many people were able to read the neon sign reading Stood Up that had to be flashing in the air over his head.
Five minutes later, and the irritation wasn't going anywhere. Hardison wasn't even picking up his phone, and he hadn't sent any messages.
Could be driving, he wanted to reason, but it sounded a little pathetic.
At least he didn’t have anyone there to say it out loud to. He thought about grabbing another drink, but with the chemicals still in his system, it probably wasn't the best idea.
And it wasn't like he had that much of a reason to be stay.
Outside, he slid the phone open and began thumbing in a message.
I showed. You didn't. See you around.
He pressed send, and didn't even wait to see if it had gone through before shoving it into his pocket. He needed that hand to get out his keys.
---
Chapter 15