Man I Used to Be #15
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:Editing+ Food-Induced-Coma= probably too shot to do any real editing, so if you find something obvious, let me know. Thanks!
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 Chapter 13 Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Eliot was opening the car door when he heard his name being called from a short distance away. It was Ron, crossing the sidewalk towards him, cigarette dangling from his mouth.
"That bad, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
Ron stepped down from the curb and came around to the driver's side, momentarily distracted by the sling, but he didn't ask about it. Least the man knows to mind his own business.
"If you're leaving already, alone," he waved a hand with sympathetic confusion. "It must not have gone well."
Or not. "Didn't go at all," Eliot wondered how long it would take to actually make it home. "Got stood up."
"You sure about that?" Ron snorted. "Saw him in there. I ran into him as I was stepping out. Had to go return some movies. You sure you didn't just miss him?"
"Yeah."
"You checked back by the pool tables?"
He stood me up. We gotta belabor the point?
"Yeah. Waited half an hour, didn't see him, so." Eliot pulled the door open, and started sliding inside. "Sorry, man, but I'm just going to-"
Ron's hand shot out and caught the door before Eliot could pull it closed. "Hang on a minute. We're going back in, see if Lee knows something."
"Don't. Look man. It's not like I don't appreciate the thought, but." Leave it.
"None of my business, blah blah blah. Just saying. Alec was there, and he's not the type to ditch out. Aren't you a little curious?"
Who the hell does this guy think he is? Ron released his grip, causing the door to fall gently back against the frame.
Eliot was going to have to open it again to get it secure enough to drive. If he was going to go through the effort anyway, he could at least go in and run damage control. Fight his own damn battles.
This was Boston, not the old west, so when the bar door swung shut behind him, no one turned to look, and no hush fell over the room. He fought his way through the crowd, back towards Lee's table.
"He's not here?" Lee asked, once Ron had given him the rundown. "He was talking to James, but I wasn't really paying attention, you know?" He twisted in his seat, searching the room. "Saw him leave, when you were coming in, but Alec wasn't with him."
---
The van swerved to avoid a semi as it pulled onto the freeway, but Alec, in back, didn't stir.
---
Taking the side door, Eliot stepped out into the cold cutting wind and took the deepest breath he could manage.
There was nothing to do but take a few breaths, get the utter fucking disappointment under control, and head around the corner, back to his car.
Nothing to do but take a few breaths, get the utter fucking disappointment under control, and walk around up around the corner to his car. Get the hell out of here, go home, pour a drink.
Fuck him anyway.
Shit, if the kid was going to bail, he could have called. Hell, Eliot got it. It probably hadn't been the best idea in the universe in the first place. But still.
Least I had the balls to show. Dick.
Anger was better than dejection. He'd get back home, and put all of this bullshit behind him. They'd deal.
This self-affirmation bullshit was pathetic.
He snorted, stepping aside got two guys coming out behind him, too engrossed in their argument to notice that he was there. The debate raged on, even as they slid into the black Volkswagen parked at the curb and pulled away.
He didn't bother tracking their route any further, because he was too busy staring at Hardison's car.
Stepping carefully, eyes darting into the spaces between cars, he made his way over to look through the windows, finding nothing amiss. No cracked windows or bodies in the back seat. The hood was freezing metal under his hand, cold enough to numb his fingers as he reached into his pocket and fumbled dumbly for his phone.
He dialed before the sensation could reach his brain and take over everything.
"Nate? I think we got a problem."
---
He became aware of his head bouncing against the metal floor, and the sound of the road beneath. Awareness that he was awake, but not as much as he probably should be, came a bit later.
It was dark, and from his vantage point on the van floor, he could only see streetlights receding through the small windows in the back doors. They seemed to be going pretty fast, but he didn't bother trying to calculate their location. He had no idea how long he'd been out, and he was admittedly distracted by the vague shape of a man sitting a few feet away, and the much more distinct outline of the gun he held.
"Whassup?" He tried, sitting up with slow caution and resisting the urge to check if his pockets had been emptied, yet. They probably had been, and the gesture probably wouldn't be appreciated. They passed underneath another bank of lights, and he noticed the ski mask pulled low.
The fact that he knew exactly what this was, and exactly where this was going, was a little fucked up.
---
"What do you mean, he disappeared? Where are you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Eliot," Nate's voice was thick with warning, and Eliot sighed.
"I'm on over on Tremont."
"Okay, get your ass over here. I'll call Sophie and Parker back in, and we'll figure this out."
Eliot hung up, eyes sweeping one last time across Alec's car and back towards the bar, willing him to appear, to wander around the corner, and explain how this was all just some big miscommunication.
But he didn't.
---
He met Parker going up the stairs, and Sophie was already in the kitchen, setting out coffee mugs. Neither looked particularly thrilled to be there.
"So," Nate began the moment Eliot entered, and he had to force himself to step any closer towards the table. "Run us through it. You were grabbing beers. Where were you meeting?"
"A bar. Does it matter?"
"It might."
There was no way he wanted to get into it right now, but maybe Nate had a point. "Place called the Eagle."
"Okay." Nate stared into his coffee mug, thinking.
"Okay? That's all you're going to say?"
"Uh. About what?"
"Uh, the bar?" Eliot stumbled.
"What, I know the place. Met up there with Hardison a few times."
"Oh. So. You know. About…" He waved his hand, willing Nate to read his mind, maybe, at least enough that he wouldn't have to say it out loud.
Nate nodded irritably. "So, so what? You got a problem with that? We've got bigger issues right now, so just save your freakout for later." In the background, Sophie's face was so still, it was clear she was forcing herself to keep from laughing. Eliot rolled his eyes and prepared to interrupt, to tell them both where they could shove it, but he couldn't get a word in. "Look, Eliot, I don't know what you're getting at, but hanging out in a gay bar doesn't make you gay, so get over it."
"Yeah. I got that." He scratched at his neck, trying to resist the urge to crush Nate's windpipe. Too pissed off for judgment, and still sneering, he continued. "Making out with Hardison might, though."
"I didn't make out with him!" Nate exclaimed, incredulous. "Like I said, it. It was a work thing. I'm. Not that there's anything against-"
Eliot didn't even care that he was cringing, or that Parker was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Nothing about tonight was going the way it was supposed to, and it wasn't right, that it was all coming out. Like maybe Hardison should have had a say.
He opened his mouth, because there was probably something more that he could say that he'd regret later, thinking you might as well get it all out at once, but Sophie's voice broke in, too quiet to be teasing. "Nate, you ass, he wasn't talking about you."
Eliot watched Nate's wheels turn, saw the realization strike.
"Oh." Nate said, speculation overcoming his earlier words. "Okay. Well. So." He shook his head, but his eyes flashed, briefly, in what might have been amusement. "All right. Moving on. You find his computer?"
Eliot was a little surprised that the segue was so nonexistent, but he was more ready to move on than Nate probably was, so he jumped on board. "Haven't been to his place, and it wasn't in his car," Eliot sat down with a wince, and adjusted his sling as Nate stood up, ducking back into his office behind the living room.
A brief rummage later, Nate came out with his undocked laptop in hand.
"Okay, I. Hardison bounces everything onto the OC server, which I've got remote access to, just…" He squinted at the screen and began the laborious-looking task of figuring out how to pull up what he needed.
"OC account?" Parker asked. "What's that?"
"As in Oh, Crap. Apparently. Hang on. There." Tapping a final key, he continued. "It's a bunch of stuff. Backups of recent work, comms controls, and more importantly, the interface for tracking your phones."
"He can track us wherever we go?" Sophie sounded concerned. "That's a little unsettling."
"Just because he can doesn't mean he does, but. He's got his phone on him, we should be able to find him."
"Really," Sophie stepped close, leaning over his shoulder, frowning in consternated concentration. "What am I looking at, here?"
"I, ah. Red dots on the map."
"I see a map, Nate, but no-"
"I know, I know. I'm missing a step. We only went over it once, and it was a while ago."
"Maybe his phone's not on?" Parker tried, not sounding like she'd convinced even herself.
Sophie shrugged. "It's more likely that he needs to make a call, first."
Eliot nodded, though no one was asking. "Something to lock onto? Makes sense." For now, though, it wasn't particularly helpful. "So, Nate, you actually know how to work all this?"
"Not a clue," he grumbled, falling back in his chair. "Feel free to step in with any ideas. Seriously."
Sophie clicked her tongue and began pacing. "Are we correct in assuming that Hardison's been taken by the same people responsible for attacking Eliot?"
"Makes sense. We're close to identifying Nicola. Or. We were. If they were trying to prevent that, this was the best move they could have made. I don’t even know where to start with his files."
"Let me take a look at them," Sophie ordered, waving him out of his seat and away from the computer. A few clicks later, and she found something. "I. Okay. Yes. Here's everything he's got for the current case, as of this morning."
"How did you know?"
"I saw him working on it on the plane," Sophie said, scanning through the directories.
"It seems that he was getting everything ready for the next part, see? Here are the offices he wanted me to try." Checking her watch, she nodded. "He doesn't have contacts listed, but it's afternoon in Dawei. I could start trying calling around, see if I can get bounced in the right direction."
"Seriously?" Nate scowled. "This is the best we've got? Thought he said he was going to get some more info."
"Maybe he just didn't have time to upload it," Parker offered, hopping up out of her seat. "I'll go out to his place and see what I can find."
"I'm going with you," Eliot stated, getting ready to stand. "If I was running this thing, I'd have his place staked out. You're not goin' in solo."
"Eliot, you're still-"
"What, useless? My eyes and ears still work, Sophie, so-"
"No." Nate spoke sharply. "No way. It's dark, and if anyone's there, they're probably expecting it." He caught Eliot rearing back for another argument, so he continued. "Eliot, if something happens to Parker on your watch, tell me how that's going to play out."
"Then I'll go on my own," Parker sneered. "It's not like I'm helpless, you know."
Nate turned his disagreement onto her. "Yeah, and if something happens to you, and Eliot's not there, how's that going to play out, you think?"
Eliot snapped, enough that he was in Nate's space without even being aware that he'd moved. "You're not putting this on me, man, so how's about you come-" He was cut off by the phone's vibration in his pocket, and his rant was forgotten the moment he saw the caller ID.
"Hardison?! Where the hell are you?"
"Put it on speaker," Nate whispered, and Eliot followed orders.
"...about earlier man, but. Ah. Looks like something came up."
He was about to reply when Sophie's panicked voice interrupted. "Hardison!" Sophie's voice was collected, though she was clearly worried. "What's going on?"
"Ah. Don't really know. I'm in a van." There was a pause, the sound of movement, as everyone stared at the phone in Eliot's hand. "Just woke up a few minutes ago and there's some guys here holdin' guns all up in my face. One of them's bein' nice enough to let me call. Or order me to call, however you see it."
Nate rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm guessing you've got a message for us?"
"Yeah. Eliot, ah. Don't change your number. What the?" there was a rustling, and the sound of Hardison snorting. "Sorry. My new best friend's handwriting ain't all that it could be…"
Eliot was going to deck him, soon as they found him. This was not the time to start cracking wise.
Hardison continued. "No cops. Don't try anything smart. The usual drill, looks like. You'll get a call with instructions in three days."
Parker hissed, and Eliot was about to cut in, but Hardison continued.
"And you know, guys? If you don't answer the phone, apparently I'm a dead man. So. That's all I got. Uh. Sorry."
"We'll get you out of there," Nate was insisting, but the line had already gone dead.
---
The phone's backlight was still glowing when he slid it across the floor to Ski Mask. It was just past ten, but the information wasn't as much help as he'd hoped it would be. For all he knew, they'd been driving in circles.
Fair enough. It wasn't the van he should be worried about, but he was doing okay, considering. In three days, the team would be contacted with instructions. And while he was relieved that they'd probably find a way to have his back, it was really the fact that he had it in writing that he'd be alive in three days that was keeping his freakout at bay.
Then again. Got a gun pointed at your face and you're actin' like it's a good thing? Something's wrong with you.
Because really, the call had also confirmed what he would have already known, had he gotten around to thinking it. He was either a hostage or bait. Collateral, only valuable because of his trade-in value.
He should have been panicking, but he was too tired. Maybe the drugs hadn't really worn off, or maybe he'd hit his head again.
Still, though. He really needed to get the hell out of this van.
Ski Mask moved, and Alec waited for him to approach, to shove the spike into his neck, to send him completely under again, but he was merely making himself comfortable.
Apparently Ski Mask didn't consider him much of a threat. The gun listed to the side as he rearranged his limbs. If he'd been ready for it, it would have been the perfect opportunity. Could have disarmed him at least, gotten out of this mess.
Yeah. Just keep telling yourself that.
---
Nate Ford could be unpleasant when his plans were thwarted, and Eliot supposed that none of them were at their best right now, but this was getting them nowhere.
Parker was watching the exchange with nervous apprehension, but Eliot didn't like how her eyes kept sliding to the door, how her frame was coiled so tightly. He'd want out too, if he were sitting so close to the line of fire. It was bad enough seeing it from his post on the bar stool, leaning back against the counter.
Sophie was stalking another angry swath across the living room, turning on her heel to strike again, but Nate was already speaking.
"You're not listening, Sophie. I don't. This. Look. Just. The only avenue we've got, right now, is what Hardison was working on, and you know it. What you're suggesting is just starting over from scratch!"
The watch on his wrist was the only calm face in the room. It had been three hours since he'd been stood up.
How much of that time Hardison had spent unconscious, and how much spent looking down the barrel of a gun, Eliot couldn't be sure. But it hadn't been half a day yet, and already the cracks were starting to show. The crew was falling apart.
And it was really fucked, because that wasn't the first thing on his mind. He couldn't concentrate. Hadn't even been able to track what the argument had been for the past half an hour or so. His head wasn't in the game, it kept jumping about twenty-two hours behind, alone in a hotel room, with someone who was supposed to be here now.
Last night- yesterday, whatever, he'd been kissing Hardison. For all his earlier insanity, it was strange how it had fallen so far off the radar in just a few hours. Stranger still to be reminded of it by the hint of stubble burn sitting just far enough below the surface of his skin that he couldn't find it in the mirror.
He'd checked three or four times, now, not because he was the sentimental type, never had been, but it seemed like the sort of thing that someone should note for the record.
Sophie's voice went shrill for an instant, before dropping into a deadly tone, too quiet to hear, but it was Nate's roaring response that had Eliot homesick for the small rooms of their old offices. Where he would've had the option of closing his door to let them work through it without an audience. Where he could lose his shit without anyone seeing.
But there was nowhere to hide, here, and the way things were looking now…
It was ice, splintering beneath his feet. If he went down first, the others would be dragged down with him.
Chill out. Keep it frozen.
He very nearly jumped at the sound of a slamming door. Sophie had shut herself in Nate's office, leaving Nate staring at the laptop in frustration. "She's just, ah. Going to make some calls," he called as if it was part of some plan, but his tone wasn't reassuring, and the muttering that followed- something about a voodoo doll, wasn't helping any.
Parker, sensing that it was finally okay to move, rose from the couch and came towards the kitchen, yanking the cupboard door open and pulling down a bowl.
"So. You and Hardison, huh?"
If this conversation had to happen at all, he would have preferred it to happen anywhere other than Nate's kitchen as she was pouring cereal, but Nate was bent over the computer, Sophie was in the other room, and following Parker to the refrigerator was as close to privacy as he was likely to get.
He approached with caution, though. "So, uh. You okay with this?"
Parker let the refrigerator door swing shut and glanced at him quizzically for a moment, before understanding. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because.." Because he wasn't blind. He'd seen Hardison, those early days, those last few jobs. Seen them both, in the hangar, the last time he was supposed to see any of them.
It wasn't like he needed her permission. He didn't know if she'd been interested in the first place, or, really, given the way tonight had panned out, if it was even his place to ask. If he had the right to assume, or even to guess, without getting a read on Hardison first. If it even fucking mattered, anymore.
If you just outed yourself for nothing, the thought came, nearly derailing him. "I dunno. Just." He couldn't find the words he was looking for. How to hone them down.
Parker's expression wasn't helping any, either. Confusion, he would have been okay with, and ecstatic exuberance he'd known not to expect. She had too many varieties of stonefaced awareness to catalog. He'd been ready for three different kinds of psychotic anger, already planning his escape routes, but this smile was new. Reassuring. Actually kind of pretty.
And it didn't break as she read his confusion, finally understanding. "Aw. You're trying to make sure everything's okay for your boyfriend for when he gets back after we rescue him."
"He's not-" Eliot broke off, mid sentence. He was nabbed. Kidnapped. Didn't bail, didn't walk out. Chances are, if things had gone different, he would have stayed if he could. It wasn't solid, but it shed new light on things, mostly his own stupidity.
His realization was missed entirely by Parker, who was shoving cereal into her mouth. "Oh, shut up. We're good. Or. You know. Will be. Once we get him back."
"Yeah," he said, because if there was a word for hope flashing intense in the middle of a shitstorm, he hadn't learned it yet.
---
Finally, the van ground to a stop, and there was no light coming through the windows. The door was pulled open from outside, and Alec could just make out movement, but nothing by way of detail. Not much of anything, really.
The garage, or wherever they were, didn't look particularly inviting.
"Move," Ski Mask ordered in a low growl, and Alec remembered something he hadn't known he'd forgotten.
Total outright dread.
---
"Eliot?"
His head snapped up, startled, to find Nate kneeling by the side of the couch, smirking mirthlessly. "You alright?"
"Wasn't sleeping."
"Wasn't what I was asking."
Eliot looked around the room, finding that other than the two of them, the room was empty. "Where's Parker?"
"She stormed off a while ago, and I'm really hoping she's going to keep her word and go straight home. We're going to run recon on Hardison's place in the morning, once it's light out. Sophie's in the other room, on the phone."
'Right." Eliot took a deep breath and held it, the pain serving, at least, to wake him up. "Yeah. I should probably head out, here. What the hell time is it?"
"Almost two. You're welcome to the couch, if you're too shot to drive."
"Thanks, man. I'm fine."
"Okay. Nate nodded, stood, but didn't step away. He was waiting for something, or working out what he was going to say next. "Hey El? Seriously. You doing alright? With all of this?"
"I'm fine," he answered, because I will be was close enough to the truth. "Just. I'll be glad when this is all in the rearview."
"Yeah." Nate agreed, glancing towards the office door with the air of a man who was finally getting to the point he'd wanted to make all night. "This thing with Hardison…"
"Is it going to be a problem?"
"What? No," Nate said, and he seemed like he meant it. "Just caught me unawares, back there, is all."
"Yeah, well. You and me both."
"How long?"
Eliot shrugged, boggled by the surreality of the conversation. "Um. Tonight was going to be the first actual. Date. Or whatever. Probably the last. Not really thinking there's gonna be a second one any time soon."
"Because what, you don't think you're more fun than being held hostage?"
"No. Just. It's my fault, Nate. All of it."
"You're being an idiot. It's late, so I'll let it slide, but-"
"But nothing. Wasn't for me, he'd be okay right now. Everything would be normal."
"Don't do that. We're fine. We'll get through this."
"Yeah. I can tell," Eliot disagreed, gesturing towards the closed office door. "'Cause this isn't exactly what I was talking about, earlier."
Nate was winding up to disagree, but the office door opened. Sophie, phone to her ear, stepped out into the living room, and Nate jumped on the excuse for a segue the moment he saw it.
"You have any luck with the calls?"
"Only the bad kind," she replied. "I'm on hold, and then I've got one more number to try, but I'd rather do it at home." She gestured tiredly at her feet. "Get out of these shoes." Eliot wasn't sure, but it sounded a bit like an apology. She switched the phone to the other hand worked her coat over her up her arm. "I'll call you before I turn in, but…"
"Yeah," Nate nodded, forgiving. "We'll pick it up in the morning."
---
"I've got your guy, if your offer's still good."
"Excellent. I presume you're still interested in American dollars?"
"Half now, and the rest when he's destroyed."
"Quite right. Be there at seven tomorrow morning, and we'll go over the details."
"Sounds good. See you in a few hours, Sophie."
---
Chapter 16
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:Editing+ Food-Induced-Coma= probably too shot to do any real editing, so if you find something obvious, let me know. Thanks!
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 Chapter 13 Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Eliot was opening the car door when he heard his name being called from a short distance away. It was Ron, crossing the sidewalk towards him, cigarette dangling from his mouth.
"That bad, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
Ron stepped down from the curb and came around to the driver's side, momentarily distracted by the sling, but he didn't ask about it. Least the man knows to mind his own business.
"If you're leaving already, alone," he waved a hand with sympathetic confusion. "It must not have gone well."
Or not. "Didn't go at all," Eliot wondered how long it would take to actually make it home. "Got stood up."
"You sure about that?" Ron snorted. "Saw him in there. I ran into him as I was stepping out. Had to go return some movies. You sure you didn't just miss him?"
"Yeah."
"You checked back by the pool tables?"
He stood me up. We gotta belabor the point?
"Yeah. Waited half an hour, didn't see him, so." Eliot pulled the door open, and started sliding inside. "Sorry, man, but I'm just going to-"
Ron's hand shot out and caught the door before Eliot could pull it closed. "Hang on a minute. We're going back in, see if Lee knows something."
"Don't. Look man. It's not like I don't appreciate the thought, but." Leave it.
"None of my business, blah blah blah. Just saying. Alec was there, and he's not the type to ditch out. Aren't you a little curious?"
Who the hell does this guy think he is? Ron released his grip, causing the door to fall gently back against the frame.
Eliot was going to have to open it again to get it secure enough to drive. If he was going to go through the effort anyway, he could at least go in and run damage control. Fight his own damn battles.
This was Boston, not the old west, so when the bar door swung shut behind him, no one turned to look, and no hush fell over the room. He fought his way through the crowd, back towards Lee's table.
"He's not here?" Lee asked, once Ron had given him the rundown. "He was talking to James, but I wasn't really paying attention, you know?" He twisted in his seat, searching the room. "Saw him leave, when you were coming in, but Alec wasn't with him."
---
The van swerved to avoid a semi as it pulled onto the freeway, but Alec, in back, didn't stir.
---
Taking the side door, Eliot stepped out into the cold cutting wind and took the deepest breath he could manage.
There was nothing to do but take a few breaths, get the utter fucking disappointment under control, and head around the corner, back to his car.
Nothing to do but take a few breaths, get the utter fucking disappointment under control, and walk around up around the corner to his car. Get the hell out of here, go home, pour a drink.
Fuck him anyway.
Shit, if the kid was going to bail, he could have called. Hell, Eliot got it. It probably hadn't been the best idea in the universe in the first place. But still.
Least I had the balls to show. Dick.
Anger was better than dejection. He'd get back home, and put all of this bullshit behind him. They'd deal.
This self-affirmation bullshit was pathetic.
He snorted, stepping aside got two guys coming out behind him, too engrossed in their argument to notice that he was there. The debate raged on, even as they slid into the black Volkswagen parked at the curb and pulled away.
He didn't bother tracking their route any further, because he was too busy staring at Hardison's car.
Stepping carefully, eyes darting into the spaces between cars, he made his way over to look through the windows, finding nothing amiss. No cracked windows or bodies in the back seat. The hood was freezing metal under his hand, cold enough to numb his fingers as he reached into his pocket and fumbled dumbly for his phone.
He dialed before the sensation could reach his brain and take over everything.
"Nate? I think we got a problem."
---
He became aware of his head bouncing against the metal floor, and the sound of the road beneath. Awareness that he was awake, but not as much as he probably should be, came a bit later.
It was dark, and from his vantage point on the van floor, he could only see streetlights receding through the small windows in the back doors. They seemed to be going pretty fast, but he didn't bother trying to calculate their location. He had no idea how long he'd been out, and he was admittedly distracted by the vague shape of a man sitting a few feet away, and the much more distinct outline of the gun he held.
"Whassup?" He tried, sitting up with slow caution and resisting the urge to check if his pockets had been emptied, yet. They probably had been, and the gesture probably wouldn't be appreciated. They passed underneath another bank of lights, and he noticed the ski mask pulled low.
The fact that he knew exactly what this was, and exactly where this was going, was a little fucked up.
---
"What do you mean, he disappeared? Where are you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Eliot," Nate's voice was thick with warning, and Eliot sighed.
"I'm on over on Tremont."
"Okay, get your ass over here. I'll call Sophie and Parker back in, and we'll figure this out."
Eliot hung up, eyes sweeping one last time across Alec's car and back towards the bar, willing him to appear, to wander around the corner, and explain how this was all just some big miscommunication.
But he didn't.
---
He met Parker going up the stairs, and Sophie was already in the kitchen, setting out coffee mugs. Neither looked particularly thrilled to be there.
"So," Nate began the moment Eliot entered, and he had to force himself to step any closer towards the table. "Run us through it. You were grabbing beers. Where were you meeting?"
"A bar. Does it matter?"
"It might."
There was no way he wanted to get into it right now, but maybe Nate had a point. "Place called the Eagle."
"Okay." Nate stared into his coffee mug, thinking.
"Okay? That's all you're going to say?"
"Uh. About what?"
"Uh, the bar?" Eliot stumbled.
"What, I know the place. Met up there with Hardison a few times."
"Oh. So. You know. About…" He waved his hand, willing Nate to read his mind, maybe, at least enough that he wouldn't have to say it out loud.
Nate nodded irritably. "So, so what? You got a problem with that? We've got bigger issues right now, so just save your freakout for later." In the background, Sophie's face was so still, it was clear she was forcing herself to keep from laughing. Eliot rolled his eyes and prepared to interrupt, to tell them both where they could shove it, but he couldn't get a word in. "Look, Eliot, I don't know what you're getting at, but hanging out in a gay bar doesn't make you gay, so get over it."
"Yeah. I got that." He scratched at his neck, trying to resist the urge to crush Nate's windpipe. Too pissed off for judgment, and still sneering, he continued. "Making out with Hardison might, though."
"I didn't make out with him!" Nate exclaimed, incredulous. "Like I said, it. It was a work thing. I'm. Not that there's anything against-"
Eliot didn't even care that he was cringing, or that Parker was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Nothing about tonight was going the way it was supposed to, and it wasn't right, that it was all coming out. Like maybe Hardison should have had a say.
He opened his mouth, because there was probably something more that he could say that he'd regret later, thinking you might as well get it all out at once, but Sophie's voice broke in, too quiet to be teasing. "Nate, you ass, he wasn't talking about you."
Eliot watched Nate's wheels turn, saw the realization strike.
"Oh." Nate said, speculation overcoming his earlier words. "Okay. Well. So." He shook his head, but his eyes flashed, briefly, in what might have been amusement. "All right. Moving on. You find his computer?"
Eliot was a little surprised that the segue was so nonexistent, but he was more ready to move on than Nate probably was, so he jumped on board. "Haven't been to his place, and it wasn't in his car," Eliot sat down with a wince, and adjusted his sling as Nate stood up, ducking back into his office behind the living room.
A brief rummage later, Nate came out with his undocked laptop in hand.
"Okay, I. Hardison bounces everything onto the OC server, which I've got remote access to, just…" He squinted at the screen and began the laborious-looking task of figuring out how to pull up what he needed.
"OC account?" Parker asked. "What's that?"
"As in Oh, Crap. Apparently. Hang on. There." Tapping a final key, he continued. "It's a bunch of stuff. Backups of recent work, comms controls, and more importantly, the interface for tracking your phones."
"He can track us wherever we go?" Sophie sounded concerned. "That's a little unsettling."
"Just because he can doesn't mean he does, but. He's got his phone on him, we should be able to find him."
"Really," Sophie stepped close, leaning over his shoulder, frowning in consternated concentration. "What am I looking at, here?"
"I, ah. Red dots on the map."
"I see a map, Nate, but no-"
"I know, I know. I'm missing a step. We only went over it once, and it was a while ago."
"Maybe his phone's not on?" Parker tried, not sounding like she'd convinced even herself.
Sophie shrugged. "It's more likely that he needs to make a call, first."
Eliot nodded, though no one was asking. "Something to lock onto? Makes sense." For now, though, it wasn't particularly helpful. "So, Nate, you actually know how to work all this?"
"Not a clue," he grumbled, falling back in his chair. "Feel free to step in with any ideas. Seriously."
Sophie clicked her tongue and began pacing. "Are we correct in assuming that Hardison's been taken by the same people responsible for attacking Eliot?"
"Makes sense. We're close to identifying Nicola. Or. We were. If they were trying to prevent that, this was the best move they could have made. I don’t even know where to start with his files."
"Let me take a look at them," Sophie ordered, waving him out of his seat and away from the computer. A few clicks later, and she found something. "I. Okay. Yes. Here's everything he's got for the current case, as of this morning."
"How did you know?"
"I saw him working on it on the plane," Sophie said, scanning through the directories.
"It seems that he was getting everything ready for the next part, see? Here are the offices he wanted me to try." Checking her watch, she nodded. "He doesn't have contacts listed, but it's afternoon in Dawei. I could start trying calling around, see if I can get bounced in the right direction."
"Seriously?" Nate scowled. "This is the best we've got? Thought he said he was going to get some more info."
"Maybe he just didn't have time to upload it," Parker offered, hopping up out of her seat. "I'll go out to his place and see what I can find."
"I'm going with you," Eliot stated, getting ready to stand. "If I was running this thing, I'd have his place staked out. You're not goin' in solo."
"Eliot, you're still-"
"What, useless? My eyes and ears still work, Sophie, so-"
"No." Nate spoke sharply. "No way. It's dark, and if anyone's there, they're probably expecting it." He caught Eliot rearing back for another argument, so he continued. "Eliot, if something happens to Parker on your watch, tell me how that's going to play out."
"Then I'll go on my own," Parker sneered. "It's not like I'm helpless, you know."
Nate turned his disagreement onto her. "Yeah, and if something happens to you, and Eliot's not there, how's that going to play out, you think?"
Eliot snapped, enough that he was in Nate's space without even being aware that he'd moved. "You're not putting this on me, man, so how's about you come-" He was cut off by the phone's vibration in his pocket, and his rant was forgotten the moment he saw the caller ID.
"Hardison?! Where the hell are you?"
"Put it on speaker," Nate whispered, and Eliot followed orders.
"...about earlier man, but. Ah. Looks like something came up."
He was about to reply when Sophie's panicked voice interrupted. "Hardison!" Sophie's voice was collected, though she was clearly worried. "What's going on?"
"Ah. Don't really know. I'm in a van." There was a pause, the sound of movement, as everyone stared at the phone in Eliot's hand. "Just woke up a few minutes ago and there's some guys here holdin' guns all up in my face. One of them's bein' nice enough to let me call. Or order me to call, however you see it."
Nate rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm guessing you've got a message for us?"
"Yeah. Eliot, ah. Don't change your number. What the?" there was a rustling, and the sound of Hardison snorting. "Sorry. My new best friend's handwriting ain't all that it could be…"
Eliot was going to deck him, soon as they found him. This was not the time to start cracking wise.
Hardison continued. "No cops. Don't try anything smart. The usual drill, looks like. You'll get a call with instructions in three days."
Parker hissed, and Eliot was about to cut in, but Hardison continued.
"And you know, guys? If you don't answer the phone, apparently I'm a dead man. So. That's all I got. Uh. Sorry."
"We'll get you out of there," Nate was insisting, but the line had already gone dead.
---
The phone's backlight was still glowing when he slid it across the floor to Ski Mask. It was just past ten, but the information wasn't as much help as he'd hoped it would be. For all he knew, they'd been driving in circles.
Fair enough. It wasn't the van he should be worried about, but he was doing okay, considering. In three days, the team would be contacted with instructions. And while he was relieved that they'd probably find a way to have his back, it was really the fact that he had it in writing that he'd be alive in three days that was keeping his freakout at bay.
Then again. Got a gun pointed at your face and you're actin' like it's a good thing? Something's wrong with you.
Because really, the call had also confirmed what he would have already known, had he gotten around to thinking it. He was either a hostage or bait. Collateral, only valuable because of his trade-in value.
He should have been panicking, but he was too tired. Maybe the drugs hadn't really worn off, or maybe he'd hit his head again.
Still, though. He really needed to get the hell out of this van.
Ski Mask moved, and Alec waited for him to approach, to shove the spike into his neck, to send him completely under again, but he was merely making himself comfortable.
Apparently Ski Mask didn't consider him much of a threat. The gun listed to the side as he rearranged his limbs. If he'd been ready for it, it would have been the perfect opportunity. Could have disarmed him at least, gotten out of this mess.
Yeah. Just keep telling yourself that.
---
Nate Ford could be unpleasant when his plans were thwarted, and Eliot supposed that none of them were at their best right now, but this was getting them nowhere.
Parker was watching the exchange with nervous apprehension, but Eliot didn't like how her eyes kept sliding to the door, how her frame was coiled so tightly. He'd want out too, if he were sitting so close to the line of fire. It was bad enough seeing it from his post on the bar stool, leaning back against the counter.
Sophie was stalking another angry swath across the living room, turning on her heel to strike again, but Nate was already speaking.
"You're not listening, Sophie. I don't. This. Look. Just. The only avenue we've got, right now, is what Hardison was working on, and you know it. What you're suggesting is just starting over from scratch!"
The watch on his wrist was the only calm face in the room. It had been three hours since he'd been stood up.
How much of that time Hardison had spent unconscious, and how much spent looking down the barrel of a gun, Eliot couldn't be sure. But it hadn't been half a day yet, and already the cracks were starting to show. The crew was falling apart.
And it was really fucked, because that wasn't the first thing on his mind. He couldn't concentrate. Hadn't even been able to track what the argument had been for the past half an hour or so. His head wasn't in the game, it kept jumping about twenty-two hours behind, alone in a hotel room, with someone who was supposed to be here now.
Last night- yesterday, whatever, he'd been kissing Hardison. For all his earlier insanity, it was strange how it had fallen so far off the radar in just a few hours. Stranger still to be reminded of it by the hint of stubble burn sitting just far enough below the surface of his skin that he couldn't find it in the mirror.
He'd checked three or four times, now, not because he was the sentimental type, never had been, but it seemed like the sort of thing that someone should note for the record.
Sophie's voice went shrill for an instant, before dropping into a deadly tone, too quiet to hear, but it was Nate's roaring response that had Eliot homesick for the small rooms of their old offices. Where he would've had the option of closing his door to let them work through it without an audience. Where he could lose his shit without anyone seeing.
But there was nowhere to hide, here, and the way things were looking now…
It was ice, splintering beneath his feet. If he went down first, the others would be dragged down with him.
Chill out. Keep it frozen.
He very nearly jumped at the sound of a slamming door. Sophie had shut herself in Nate's office, leaving Nate staring at the laptop in frustration. "She's just, ah. Going to make some calls," he called as if it was part of some plan, but his tone wasn't reassuring, and the muttering that followed- something about a voodoo doll, wasn't helping any.
Parker, sensing that it was finally okay to move, rose from the couch and came towards the kitchen, yanking the cupboard door open and pulling down a bowl.
"So. You and Hardison, huh?"
If this conversation had to happen at all, he would have preferred it to happen anywhere other than Nate's kitchen as she was pouring cereal, but Nate was bent over the computer, Sophie was in the other room, and following Parker to the refrigerator was as close to privacy as he was likely to get.
He approached with caution, though. "So, uh. You okay with this?"
Parker let the refrigerator door swing shut and glanced at him quizzically for a moment, before understanding. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because.." Because he wasn't blind. He'd seen Hardison, those early days, those last few jobs. Seen them both, in the hangar, the last time he was supposed to see any of them.
It wasn't like he needed her permission. He didn't know if she'd been interested in the first place, or, really, given the way tonight had panned out, if it was even his place to ask. If he had the right to assume, or even to guess, without getting a read on Hardison first. If it even fucking mattered, anymore.
If you just outed yourself for nothing, the thought came, nearly derailing him. "I dunno. Just." He couldn't find the words he was looking for. How to hone them down.
Parker's expression wasn't helping any, either. Confusion, he would have been okay with, and ecstatic exuberance he'd known not to expect. She had too many varieties of stonefaced awareness to catalog. He'd been ready for three different kinds of psychotic anger, already planning his escape routes, but this smile was new. Reassuring. Actually kind of pretty.
And it didn't break as she read his confusion, finally understanding. "Aw. You're trying to make sure everything's okay for your boyfriend for when he gets back after we rescue him."
"He's not-" Eliot broke off, mid sentence. He was nabbed. Kidnapped. Didn't bail, didn't walk out. Chances are, if things had gone different, he would have stayed if he could. It wasn't solid, but it shed new light on things, mostly his own stupidity.
His realization was missed entirely by Parker, who was shoving cereal into her mouth. "Oh, shut up. We're good. Or. You know. Will be. Once we get him back."
"Yeah," he said, because if there was a word for hope flashing intense in the middle of a shitstorm, he hadn't learned it yet.
---
Finally, the van ground to a stop, and there was no light coming through the windows. The door was pulled open from outside, and Alec could just make out movement, but nothing by way of detail. Not much of anything, really.
The garage, or wherever they were, didn't look particularly inviting.
"Move," Ski Mask ordered in a low growl, and Alec remembered something he hadn't known he'd forgotten.
Total outright dread.
---
"Eliot?"
His head snapped up, startled, to find Nate kneeling by the side of the couch, smirking mirthlessly. "You alright?"
"Wasn't sleeping."
"Wasn't what I was asking."
Eliot looked around the room, finding that other than the two of them, the room was empty. "Where's Parker?"
"She stormed off a while ago, and I'm really hoping she's going to keep her word and go straight home. We're going to run recon on Hardison's place in the morning, once it's light out. Sophie's in the other room, on the phone."
'Right." Eliot took a deep breath and held it, the pain serving, at least, to wake him up. "Yeah. I should probably head out, here. What the hell time is it?"
"Almost two. You're welcome to the couch, if you're too shot to drive."
"Thanks, man. I'm fine."
"Okay. Nate nodded, stood, but didn't step away. He was waiting for something, or working out what he was going to say next. "Hey El? Seriously. You doing alright? With all of this?"
"I'm fine," he answered, because I will be was close enough to the truth. "Just. I'll be glad when this is all in the rearview."
"Yeah." Nate agreed, glancing towards the office door with the air of a man who was finally getting to the point he'd wanted to make all night. "This thing with Hardison…"
"Is it going to be a problem?"
"What? No," Nate said, and he seemed like he meant it. "Just caught me unawares, back there, is all."
"Yeah, well. You and me both."
"How long?"
Eliot shrugged, boggled by the surreality of the conversation. "Um. Tonight was going to be the first actual. Date. Or whatever. Probably the last. Not really thinking there's gonna be a second one any time soon."
"Because what, you don't think you're more fun than being held hostage?"
"No. Just. It's my fault, Nate. All of it."
"You're being an idiot. It's late, so I'll let it slide, but-"
"But nothing. Wasn't for me, he'd be okay right now. Everything would be normal."
"Don't do that. We're fine. We'll get through this."
"Yeah. I can tell," Eliot disagreed, gesturing towards the closed office door. "'Cause this isn't exactly what I was talking about, earlier."
Nate was winding up to disagree, but the office door opened. Sophie, phone to her ear, stepped out into the living room, and Nate jumped on the excuse for a segue the moment he saw it.
"You have any luck with the calls?"
"Only the bad kind," she replied. "I'm on hold, and then I've got one more number to try, but I'd rather do it at home." She gestured tiredly at her feet. "Get out of these shoes." Eliot wasn't sure, but it sounded a bit like an apology. She switched the phone to the other hand worked her coat over her up her arm. "I'll call you before I turn in, but…"
"Yeah," Nate nodded, forgiving. "We'll pick it up in the morning."
---
"I've got your guy, if your offer's still good."
"Excellent. I presume you're still interested in American dollars?"
"Half now, and the rest when he's destroyed."
"Quite right. Be there at seven tomorrow morning, and we'll go over the details."
"Sounds good. See you in a few hours, Sophie."
---
Chapter 16