Man I Used to Be #17
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: Apologies for the delay, I was trying to minimize the chances of ending on another cliffhanger. As such, this one is the longest yet.
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 Chapter 16
Nate had fallen silent a while ago, the last of his calls to outdated contacts completed.
Eliot tried to concentrate on the map in front of him, but it was getting harder to concentrate. Without Hardison to guide them, they were going to need all the help they could get, and without his running monologue breaking the hush so easily, they'd already been smothered under the weight of it.
Setting the atlas he'd picked up downstairs aside, he peeked down at his phone. It was nearly three, though the sky outside the hotel room window was beginning to darken, becoming overcast.
He could see Nate out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the edge of his bed and contemplating Sophie's nervous pacing, the only motion in the room. Every few circuits, she'd pause to flick the already open curtain aside and look out the window, her expression pinched and drawn. It had been going on for a while now, and it wouldn't have been irritating if he'd never noticed.
They'd all been quiet since arriving at the hotel, but her silence was louder, and eventually it was all too much.
"What's up?" Eliot finally asked Nate, startling Parker, who glanced up from her subway map until she determined that she wasn't the one being discussed, her attention a thousand miles away.
Nate turned his notepad for Eliot to see, not taking his eyes off Sophie as she flicked the curtain aside again. The emptiness of the page was proof enough of his results, empty and unsurprising.
Eliot stretched in his seat and waited, phone in hand, wondering if he was the only one missing Hardison so damned much.
---
Cheap Sneakers had stayed behind with the van while Dog and Halitosis shepherded him through the loading dock doors. They'd hung left, and gone down a concrete block hallway until they'd reached the door at the end. There hadn't been anything there to indicate where he was, no signage or bits of trash or anything, just bluish fluorescent light in the ceilings. Manhattan was still a good bet, though, and an office basement was likely.
They'd shoved him through the door and locked him inside, alone, and he'd tried the heavy door once, but it hadn't given way. He hadn't expected it to.
They'd left the lights on, at least, even if the room was cold and unfurnished. There was nothing worth exploring, no windows, no wires, no other doors. No cameras. Just the flat glare of fluorescent light and a rusted stain on the wall, coming down from a vent with too small an opening for even Parker to fit through.
There was nothing to do besides pace and wait and wish for information that wasn't coming. He paced for a long time, wondering what the others were up to, but he couldn't even imagine, any more. Vague imaginings of costume changes and the pocketing of keys, Nate's terse orders and Parker's quick fingers. Sophie's mouth sliding into the smile that would pave the way and the tension easing from Eliot's back as he prepared to attack the next opponent, kicking an empty gun to the side, out of reach.
Get real, man.
Thugs blasting through the door to grab him, slamming him into the wall. Eliot being thrown in, stumbling to a bloody heap, inert on the floor. Maniacal laughter and the flashing of blades.
Because the Eliot in his head wasn't the Eliot that was out in the world, with an arm tied down and shadows under eyes hidden by a cap pulled low against the cold. Slow moving, if he was even there at all. If he hadn't already slipped out the back.
Eventually, an hour or a day later, he was sitting against the wall, too tired and frustrated and far too fucking close to tears to even fight it anymore.
The door opens, and Dog steps aside for a shorter man to pass through. Pristine and cold and dressed all in black. Smiling in mild amusement as he says, "Sorry kid. He never showed. Nothing personal," as he takes aim.
There was noise, outside in the hallway, just enough warning for him to get off his ass by the time the door was open and a voice was announcing "Alec Hardison. I presume you know who I am?"
---
Nicola wasn't at all what Alec had expected.
Thought he'd be taller, he noted, taking in the thinning hair and the beginnings of a paunch. Were it not for the expensive suit, he would have resembled one of a hundred burned-out social service workers that Alec had could only barely remember.
His eyes slid around the room as he entered, taking in the stains and the walls and the claustrophobic nothingness.
Avoiding him, so Alec had to start. "You wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"
"Of course," Nicola sighed, deliberately giving the impression of a man who wasn't in control of the universe. Alec didn't buy it for a second. "In a few hours, Spencer will turn himself over to us, and you will go free."
"Right," Alec didn't believe him.
"You're of no interest to me, you know. As long as you refrain from doing something…irresponsible, and as long as you're not betrayed, you will come to no harm."
"What about Eliot?" Alec rocked his head back to look down his nose before he realized what he was doing, and that was the moment Nicola chose to finally look at him straight on.
"We'll see, won't we?"
He was prepared to see coldness in those eyes, but there was none, just resigned acceptance and the hint of something manic. Jekyll waiting for Hyde to emerge.
For the first time in this entire fuckstorm of elevators and couches and boredom, he was catching onto the one thing he'd missed.
Total fucking terror.
---
As expected, it was Hardison's number on the caller ID when the phone finally rang.
"Eliot?"
"Are you okay?"
"Uh, fine. All four of you are supposed to be at the Carlyle Hotel at seven." He's scared. Shit. "Wear something nice."
"Okay, just keep-" Eliot began, but the line had already gone dead. Fuck. The others were watching him closely. "The Carlyle in two hours. Sounds formal."
"Really," Sophie was incredulous. "That's a strange place for a hostage exchange."
Nate slid into the chair to pull up the hotel's website. "Ah, okay," he muttered, after a moment. "There's a big charity banquet and awards ceremony going on tonight in the Trianon Suite." He shook his head in annoyance. "Nicola's running the same game that we ran on Geffin."
"We're going to need clothes," Parker said, upending her duffel bag onto the floor. Jeans, a sweatshirt, a couple of harnesses, but no evening gowns, and she eyed Nate's suitcase speculatively. "I mean, we could-"
"Don't start," Eliot grumbled, trying to remember what he'd packed. He'd been expecting to be burning the clothes he'd been wearing, just another pair of jeans and a few warm shirts. Set of sweats, just in case Hardison needed them.
"We don't all live in suits," Parker complained, examining a tee shirt up skeptically as she pulled out her phone.
Sophie set her shoulders back, eying Nate determinedly. "Give me an hour. I can have Eliot, Parker, and myself set, there's a wonderful boutique just down-"
"Fine," Nate waved her off. "Can you think of anything else we need?"
"Tasers. Oh, and Apollo," Parker remembered, heading out into the hallway to get him on the line, missing the looks that were exchanged as she left.
Eliot watched the Nate and Sophie impatiently, because yeah, it was great that Parker might have something going on with this guy, but really, they needed to head out and start recon. "Nate, I'll go over-"
"We're going to have Apollo scoping the place out."
Sophie sorted through the comm. earpieces until she found one that was to her liking, carefully nonchalant as she said, "I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but we don't know him."
"Parker hasn't stabbed him with a fork yet, it's enough for me," Nate tapped at the screen with his pen before scrawling another note as he read. "Right now, I'm more concerned about this fundraiser, see. The website says it's invite only. Sophie, this sounds like your area of expertise once again."
"What's the charity?"
"The Rigg Foundation. Whoever they are."
She collected her purse from the end table. "Find me their number and send it to my phone, I'll make the calls on the way. Eliot, you take a size seventeen collar, correct?
"Yes ma'am," he replied, already starting to wince because her eyes were still on him as she stepped out into the hallway, right into Parker's path. Both stumbled, but the only casualty was Sophie's purse, which tumbled to the floor.
Watching Parker crouch and scramble for the spilled contents, handing them to an apologetically sheepish Sophie, Eliot felt his hands become fists. We seriously don't have the time for this shit. He scowled in Nate's direction, finding him too engrossed in his screen to commiserate.
Sophie finally cleared the door and Parker was left standing there, a puzzled frown on her face as she slid her phone back into her pocket. "He's on his way over. Should be there by the time we're getting ready…" She trailed off, like there was more, but when she didn't immediately continue, Nate took over.
"All right," he spun back from the computer, picking up his phone. "You two just chill out for a bit, do whatever you need to do. I'm getting the number for Sophie, then grabbing a shower."
Eliot was pushing himself away from the wall when Parker coughed. "Uh, guys?"
"What?"
"Why does Sophie already have a pamphlet about the Carlyle in her purse?"
"I don't know, must've picked it up downstairs?" Evidently Nate was having trouble keying the message into the phone.
"In the lobby of a competing hotel?" Parker asked, and Eliot got where she was going with it, just before he saw Nate freeze. "You think she picked it up earlier?"
"Yeah sure," Eliot reasoned, looking towards Nate to answer, "but why would she do that?"
"How the hell should I-" Nate gave up then, and sat down heavily on the bed. "You're sure about what you saw?"
"Yes." Parker crossed her arms, rocking on the balls of her feet.
"You got any idea what it means?" Eliot asked, because he didn't want to be the one to have to answer.
"Yeah." Nate raised his head to study each of them in turn, and it was clear that he was trying to exude some sort of confident calm, but it wasn't working. "It means we've got the advantage. I don't know what the hell she's up to, but at least we're not going in blind. Well. Yeah, we are, but. Not. You know what I mean."
He sighed, heavily, all traces of amusement long gone by the time he spoke them again. "Okay. You two. I'm serious. I know that I always say it and you ignore it anyway," his eyes shifted to Parker. "But this time, no kidding, I need you both to follow my lead on this. We're two down, and compromised already."
"So we're just going to play along?"
"Yeah, actually." Nate frowned. "Hardison, right now. He is our main concern. We'll deal with Sophie as it comes, but. I need to know that the both of you will be okay with this. This won't work, unless… Look. I know that we don't have much of a unified front right now. I can't be worrying about the two of you going off the rails."
"You got it," Eliot said, heading out into the hallway. But nothin' about this is okay.
---
This was all kinds of fucked up. They had the intel he'd been waiting for, and in a few hours, they'd- he'd be doing a hostage exchange, and instead of running down a real plan, Sophie was either shopping for party clothes or meeting with the enemy, and he was stuck in his room, showering and brushing his teeth like it was any other day.
He'd just finished shaving when the phone went off. He wasn't ready for the sudden vertigo, the surety that more bad news was coming, but when he looked at the display, it was merely a text from Nate.
You doing alright?
Eliot snorted. He was sitting in a hotel room, passing the time before going out to kill or be killed. There was really no good way to answer, so he tossed the phone on the bed and crossed from the bed to the window and back again.
Testing his range of movement, he stretched his arm as he paced, carefully, breathing deep against the pull. It still hurt, and he'd probably be out of breath by the time anything even got started, but he was damned if he was putting the sling back on before he had to. Might mean another trip to the hospital, but the hospital beat the morgue, no doubt about it.
Just so long as we're straight on that, his brain pointed out, reminding him in no unclear terms just how close he'd come to losing it entirely last night.
The gun was in the nightstand, and he slid the drawer open carefully, daring it to make him react. That he wished it would was a humorless realization, but it was inert, now.
He could do this.
All he had to do was get to it. Extract Hardison, make sure the team got out, and whatever came next really didn't matter. Dead meant dead, and alive meant leaving. That was all. If he got some answers on the way out, figure out why the hell it had all come to this, he could tell himself it was enough.
There was a clicking sound, and the heater came on, and that was the sum of the world's reaction. It didn't care much, either.
And if he would have rather heard Hardison's voice right then, or been able to tell everyone goodbye or whatever, it wasn't a big deal.
But if he didn't get back to Nate, he'd just wind up barging in, and the mindset Eliot had just begun to carefully maintain would shift again. He texted yeah in response and shut the ringer off. He'd turn it on again in a while.
There were a lot of things he still needed to figure out, a few loose ends. How to play this without bringing anyone else down with him, how to apologize. Sophie's involvement in all of this, but it wasn't central. Hardison.
He wouldn't know for a while yet- there was no way to- but he had time enough to make sure the gun was loaded.
---
Sophie was three minutes late, but if she felt the tension in the room when they were all gathered gain, she didn't show signs, too busy distributing garment bags and telling Parker how to do her hair. Acting like nothing was different, nothing was wrong.
She smiled warmly at Eliot as she held out the suit she'd bought for him, and he'd gone into his room to change. When he presented himself in Nate's room again, Sophie insisted on fixing his tie, chattering happily, and he had to force himself not to scream at how calculated it felt.
"It's so exciting," she enthused, straightening his collar, working it carefully around the sling. "Don't you think?"
"What d'you mean?"
Sophie rolled her eyes. "Going in to rescue Hardison. Sound familiar?"
"Yeah. It's gonna be a blast." He wasn't sure why he was stepping back, if it was suspicion, wariness of her tone, or what. And of course, she picked up on it.
"Eliot, really. You mustn't keep acting like you're expecting us to blame you for any of this. We're all going to be okay, soon enough."
Well, she'd picked up on something, at least. He wished he had Nate's ability to know when Sophie was conning someone, and even caught Nate watching them intently, but there was no telling what was going through the man's mind.
In ten minutes, they'd be leaving, and he still needed to get back to grab his gun.
---
Chill, man. You already knew he was insane. You knew this was coming. So did the crew, and they're all on their way.
Hardison knocked his head against the wall in time to the seconds that weren't really counting down, and rubbed at his eyes.
It'll be bad, yeah. It'll be worse if you don't man the hell up.
He could do this. He could wait for his moment, and this time, he wouldn't miss it.
But Eliot.
He took a breath and held it, letting it out slowly. Your ass is locked in a basement by the next Jeffrey Dahmer, man. You got bigger problems. Like surviving.
He'd just keep telling himself that.
---
Sophie led them to the registration tables where guests were picking up programs and meandering in the general direction of the coat check area. She picked up the envelope of nametags and distributed them once they were away from the table.
"Doctor Albert Graydon? Seriously?"
"Hey, at least you're a doctor," Eliot grumbled, fumbling to drape the elastic over his neck. Glancing down as he pulled the plastic tag free of the sling, he shifted his arm, covering the gun more completely, and looked to Parker, who also got to be a doctor.
Sophie, of course, was playing Nate's trophy wife, and responding to Parker's complaint about the tags. "You don't go attaching stickers to three thousand dollar dresses, dear."
"But it could get caught on something," Parker was saying, her head swiveling to follow Nate, who was heading back towards registration, to wait behind a woman in a fur coat.
Edging up next to him, Parker asked, "What's he doing?" and for a moment it felt like the turnaround, when all would be revealed to make perfect sense. Another case of Nate knowing the score before the game was half over with.
Maybe there's hope, Eliot admitted as he made his way to catch up, but Nate was talking to the woman working the table, his voice carrying a haughty edge. "I was wondering. Has Eliot Spencer's party checked in yet?"
A moment later and an unconcerned shake of the head from a stranger, and Nate nodded, as if the news were expected. He didn't speak until they were heading inside.
"Yeah, they were ready for us." He admitted, but smiled at Sophie. "Guess we didn't need you to get us in." How Nate could be so relaxed about it was beyond Eliot, so he turned to watch the crowd instead.
Nate knew as well as Eliot did that his plan, whatever it was, was already slipping, and he looked like he was waiting more heavily than usual for Parker's response. "Before we go in, where are we at?"
"Apollo's going to-" Parker was interrupted by a man jostling past in a black suit and turtleneck, who was already heading inside by the time Eliot caught sight of him.
Parker opened the program she held to reveal the note inside, and smiled. "He's on comms, now." She slipped the program and its contents into her oversized purse, next to the computer drives.
"Hey folks, welcome to the show," Apollo's voice sounded in Eliot's ear. "It's going down in the back basement. Loading dock entrance, underneath the garage. Cameras are functioning and the security team watching the cameras looks a little suspicious. I'm heading back to check it out."
Back basement. It was the last piece Eliot needed, and he began to turn, but Nate's grip on his arm stopped him.
"Hold up. You head down there now, you're jumping the gun and you know it. Let him do his thing, get us more info."
"Nate," Eliot floundered, furious.
Nate leaned in, cocking his head casually up ahead at Sophie. "You want them to kill Hardison? I'm really damned sorry, but it's the best play and you know it."
Too furious to answer, Eliot stalked towards the reception, keeping his eyes open for an exit.
---
They walked into the middle of some guy's speech. Eliot read the room, looking for the telltale glints of guns that had no place being there, but too often were. He found none, but it failed to set him at ease.
"Though my time at the Rigg Foundation has been short, I've had the honor of working alongside some of the kindest and most generous people around the world. These are people who take their idealism and make it into reality. It is one of these people who it is my pleasure to introduce tonight, as the presenter of this year's Peck ham Award, Linda King.
He didn't know where all the cameras were, or who, exactly, was watching them. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have even registered. He hadn't even realized he'd been taking it for granted all this time.
It was too quiet- not the room, so packed with people and politely unobtrusive music, but on the line.
He gave his earpiece a light tap and found it working, but there was a loud noise on the wire as they slid across the back of the room, a little too close to the engineer working the boards for the sound system, and Eliot wasn't the only one that flinched,.
Hardison would have been on a roll by now, detailing the ridiculousness of some woman's dress, or some other inconsequential detail that would've driven Eliot nuts, anyway. He missed it, though. Missed Hardison's voice enough that it twisted, too much.
"Yeah, we, ah, have to go with the presets tonight, gang. Our producer is, ah...."
"Indisposed?"
Nate nodded in irritated agreement. "Parker, Sophie? Circulate, but, ah, Parker? Keep it cool." Eliot rolled his eyes in annoyance and hoped Nate hadn't just given everything away.
"What do we do now?" Eliot kept his eyes on the stage, watching a nervously smiling blonde cross with note cards in one hand as the other came up to pat at her hair as she headed for the dais.
"We sit here and listen to a boring speech, apparently," Nate scratched at his chin and tugged at his collar, loosening it slightly. "Keep an eye out, anyone sees anything, you tell me."
Eliot looked over to see Parker glaring a hole into the back of Sophie's head as she followed close behind. Remembering why she was so intent should have made it worse, but he was already too sick to notice.
---
Alec thought he heard voices rising outside the door, thought this is it, but again, nothing happened.
Nicola had been lurking outside the door since their brief meeting, occasionally giving hushed orders that Alec strained and failed to hear. Every once in a while, his shadow passed back or forth through the gap beneath the door.
He'd been relieved when Nicola left, just moments before, but now, he wasn't so sure.
Just a few feet on the other side of the door paced a tired man with a mean streak, waiting on some last vital detail.
If the straw that broke the camels back came when Alec couldn't see it, he couldn't prepare. But he tried, anyway, tapping out the seconds on his knee, telling himself to be ready. Concentrating on the moves he'd have to make when his chance came. Enumerating every single silent signal Eliot had ever sent his way, telling him to run, stay down, or just get the hell out of the way. The slide of his eyes as he scanned his opponent, the smirk that crossed his face whenever he knew he had the advantage.
Focus, man. Ain't useful, he thought, but he didn't try over hard to fight them off.
---
Apart from the occasional glance down at his phone, Eliot's eyes, like Nate's, were trained on Parker and Sophie as their circuit of the room brought them near again. From where he and Nate stood, as far from the engineering booth as they could be without getting lost in the swarm, the speakers overhead were loud enough that even with the intermittent noise on the line, it wasn't worth trying to talk.
There wasn't anything to talk about, anyway, and the woman onstage droned on.
"… hard to grasp the momentousness of what this really means to a community, and I don't have the experience to explain it. But it is my hope that the recipient of the Peckham Award may be able to succeed where I have failed. It is therefore my honor to introduce to you the Chief Medical Officer and Director of the Trevor Hastings Memorial Hospital in Kadwe, Doctor Edward Hastings."
There was another round of applause as a man took the stage, made of the same muscle-gone-soft that had formed his dad's brother out in Chicago. Eliot hadn't seen him since the funeral, but the man joining the blonde was twenty years too young, anyway.
And he was from Kadwe. If Eliot didn't ease his grip on the phone, he'd wind up crushing it. "Nate?"
"I know, Eliot, I." Nate waved his hands, his eyes not moving from the stage. "Guys?
Quick geography lesson, anyone want to try and guess where Kadwe is?"
Sophie hurried over, Parker trailing behind, looking down at the program in her had. "Myanmar. Funny, the program doesn't say anything about-"
"Screw the damned program," Eliot hissed, trying to get a better look at the man rising from a packed table at the front of the room, and heading up onto the stage.
"You recognize him?"
"No. What do you think it means?"
Nate examined the doctor for a moment, and shrugged. "Well. I'm guessing that our guest of honor didn't come alone."
Doctor Hastings was finally in the midst of giving his impassioned thanks, and now that Eliot was paying attention, he could hear the slight overtones in his voice. He'd been a long time in Myanmar, all right, but judging by the dismayed expression Nate wore, Eliot wasn't the only one feeling like they were seeing it too late.
The doctor was stepping away from the microphone to wrap the woman in a hug as the room filled with applause once again. From where Eliot stood, he could just barely see her lips move, but there was no hearing what she said over the crowd.
Or there shouldn't have been.
"It's my pleasure, Doctor Hastings, really," a new voice spoke in his ear, but when he turned, he saw no one. It was feeding back through the speakers, too. "Thank you so much for all that you've done."
"What the hell?" Eliot spun, looking for Hardison's explanation, forgetting he wasn't there, and finding the others trying to hide the same surprise.
"How-" Parker's hand was rising to her ear when a hand caught her wrist, gently.
“Interference with the sound system," Nate explained, indicating the speakers and the soundboard.
“How do you fix it?” Parker looked to Eliot for an explanation.
“How the hell should I know?"
"I don't know. How about you kids move away from the very large array of audio electronics?" Apollo's voice came over the comms, and for a minute it almost felt like Hardison was there. Parker almost smiled, and Nate rolled his eyes as the house lights came on and music began to play.
"It seems that they're done now," Sophie observed as they stepped towards the door. "I think we should probably ingratiate ourselves with the good doctor's entourage, don't you think?"
Eliot swiveled his head around to look. "I don't see him."
"Then we find him," Sophie stated. "The doctor wouldn't have gone far, would he?"
"Good thing you already know this place so well," Parker grumbled, and Sophie ground to a halt.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean." Parker looked nervously in Nate's direction, but continued. "You already know your way around. You knew about this place before we even got here."
"Parker," Nate warned, pulling a face, but before he could continue, Sophie spun around to face Parker.
"I'm not sure I like your tone." Her tone was arch and patronizing.
"I'm not sure I like your you," Parker kicked at the long skirt she was wearing over her jeans and pointed an accusing finger at Sophie, ignoring Eliot's warning hiss. "You lied to us. You know more than you're saying. I saw the brochure."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Nate studied Sophie's face, an intense examination, and a moment later, he exploded.
"What the hell's going on?! You know, I can't believe this, you're running around behind our back-"
"No, Nate. I. I was meeting someone, all right?"
"Who?"
"A friend, Sophie insisted. "A man, who has nothing at all to do with this."
"So why all the secrecy?"
"Habit? The fact that it's a crass thing to bring up, in the middle of all this?" Sophie replied, loud enough that some of the other guests were taking notice. "You."
"Me?" Nate sneered in disbelief. "What do I have to do with it?"
"Exactly." Sophie's smile was tight and humorless, and apparently, Nate saw right through it.
"You're lying. Right now. You're-" Nate looked like he was biting the inside of his mouth, keeping himself in check, and Eliot could feel the metal heavy against his own chest, and watched his world fall apart just a little bit more.
"I can't. Nate. We don't know who's listening, it could. I'm not working against you, here. You've got to believe me."
"No, I do not, actually."
"Just. Give me the chance to prove it-" She took her earpiece out and motioned for Nate and the others to do the same.
"You've got something to say? Have a plan? I'm sure we'd all like to hear it."
Sophie'd apparently had it. "So would we, Nathan. This isn't a plan, it's no strategy at all! We're simply here to deliver the sacrificial lamb, and you know it. As well as I."
"So what, you got a better idea? We've been fielding all offers for days, now Sophie. You got something, you should've told us already, or at least tell us now."
"You can trust me, Nate. I promise." Sophie was close to tears. Eliot wondered if they were real.
"Hardison's life is on the line, Eliot's too, and we've got you running a game on us, so I'd say the chances of that happening are slim to none. What I can't see is why."
He was nearly shouting, gesticulating wildly as he gathered steam. He hadn't been this angry since the last time Sophie had screwed them. "Is. What are you playing at? Is this supposed to be a distraction? 'Cause I'm only interested in one thing. Nobody's going home dead tonight. So either you give us enough to work with, here, or you get the hell out-
"Fine," Sophie started to turn, glaring at each of them in turn. "I won't get in your way, and you don't get in mine." She tossed her earpiece at Nate's feet and stalked towards the doors, away from them.
Nate made as if to follow, but turned his glare instead at Parker, his facial muscles working rigorously at staying calm. "What did I tell you at the hotel?"
"I. I wasn't," Parker floundered, wilting as the reality of it hit her. "I thought that maybe I could find out what her angle was. If this went wrong, I. I didn't mean to ruin it." She sniffed once before pulling herself up to meet Nate's eyes for a long moment.
She didn't like what she found, and was halfway across the room before Eliot realized she'd left. "Great, they're both gone," he muttered. "Nice."
Nate snorted, still glaring after Parker, and turned on his heel. "You're the last one who should be talking right now, you know that?"
That's it.
There was only so much bullshit Eliot was willing to take, and he dodged ahead of him, forcing him to a standstill.
"You want me to go hunt these fuckers down? I can do that. You want me to do this clean? Wait for your orders? I can do that. I am doing that. But you can't have it both ways. And I get it, man, I know what this is all about, but I don't have a goddamned time machine, and even if I did-"
Even as he stared over Eliot's shoulder, the fight seemed to go out of him, but it felt too final. "Look. You need to focus. We'll sort everyone out or we won't, but right now-"
The phone was vibrating in his hand, but he had to make sure Nate heard him, first. "We get through this last one…" he promised, and raised the phone to his ear.
---
There was a sound, a metallic thump and a dragging sound, and then a small skittering. It was coming up from the left, from the vent set into the wall.
He checked again, but Nicola's shadow wasn't moving, and the murmur of his voice hadn't come to a dangerous halt, yet, so maybe…
Moving carefully, he eased himself into a crouch, before crossing the room to the vent, listening close. Another sound, indistinct, but quieter, coming from further away. Whatever it was, it was gone, but he hadn't misheard.
He tried to peer into the vent, but it was too dark to see more than a few inches. There was no movement, no flashes of light, no indication that Parker was up there. And he couldn't call out, not without alerting Nicola.
It's nothing, he tried to convince himself, but he didn't want to believe it.
There was another voice outside the door, now, Halitosis, maybe. He might have said something along the lines of "party's in full swing."
Party? There were people nearby.
That was good, that was something to know. Could be useful.
Or it could be nothing. He could have misheard, wishful thinking making him hear things. Like hearing a random noise inside the air ducts and assuming rescue was coming.
He snorted at his own idiocy and angrily glared again into the vent, at the dust crusting the edges, the dead fly caught at the edge. The screws holding the faceplate down, the bolt on the inside and the plastic behind it.
Laughter, from outside, and he was turning away in frustration before his brain supplied recognition of the plastic's form.
He looked again, carefully. It was an earpiece, there, caught behind the fittings three inches back. He shoved his fingers through the metal slats, feeling them pull hard at his skin and scrape painfully across his knuckles as he tried to reach, but he couldn't. He was stuck.
Think, man. If he'd had a pen on him, or a paperclip, or a screwdriver, he'd have the thing in his hands already.
Pulling his fingers out again felt even worse, but he had proof of concept.
Hell, a damn Q-tip would work.
He looked down at himself. They'd made him empty his pockets days ago, and left him with nothing. All he had were the clothes he'd worn to go meet Eliot, a century and a half ago. Slip on shoes, jeans, shirt and a hoodie.
The drawstring from the hood trailed down over his chest, the metal tips waving back at him as if to say "Hi, moron," and Alec grinned.
It's on, my friends.
Keeping his eyes on the shadows under the door, he tugged the cord until he had enough length to work with, plan already forming. Running it along the middle and index fingers of his uninjured hand, he pinched it between them so the hard metal tip extended that last inch.
Taking a deep breath and looking over his shoulder, he reached back into the vent, trying not to imagine fingers too ruined to type. There was just enough space between the bolt and the wall that if he could knock the earpiece just a bit, it would slip through, and either hit the floor or get caught by the bottom slat.
He'd never been happier to be right about something, watching it slide down, even if he ripped his fingers out too roughly in his haste to extract it. He'd just caught the earpiece between his fingers when the door burst open behind him.
"Hey!" Nicola's voice raised a sharp alarm, and footsteps pounded across the concrete floor. "Hands on your head, asshole!"
Careful to only present his profile as he turned, his finished extracting the earpiece, still caught between his fingers, and palmed it as he slid his hands to the back of his head.
"That's the stupidest escape attempt I've ever seen," Halitosis grumbled, using his gun to wave Alec back against the far wall, his attention noting the sad state of his bloodied fingers, but giving no indication of having seen the device pressing into Alec's head, mere inches away from where it would be useful.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Alec explained.
"Just keep your hands there." Dog ordered, going over to inspect the grate, which was bent out of shape, but clearly not enough to be useful. "And you, keep an eye on him. Anyhow," he addressed Nicola, "You ready to go?"
In answer, Nicola opened up the laptop he'd been carrying, and though Alec couldn’t' see the screen, he wasn't at all surprised to feel an intense surge of longing.
It was frustrating as hell. Two lines of communication, just inches out of reach.
He was distracted enough by his thoughts that he wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"The charges are laid and live?"
Charges?
"Yes sir," Dog confirmed.
"Then let's do this." Finally focusing his attention on Alec for the moment, he grinned tightly. "Do put your hands down. You've got a call to make."
There's a bomb. Maybe several..
Alec moved slowly, careful not to drop the concealed earpiece, and held his other hand out.
Nicola dialed, turning the speaker on, and gave it to him. "Remember, please, that should you attempt to screw us, you're merely the first life forfeited."
---
On to Chapter 17, Part 2
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: Apologies for the delay, I was trying to minimize the chances of ending on another cliffhanger. As such, this one is the longest yet.
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 Chapter 16
Nate had fallen silent a while ago, the last of his calls to outdated contacts completed.
Eliot tried to concentrate on the map in front of him, but it was getting harder to concentrate. Without Hardison to guide them, they were going to need all the help they could get, and without his running monologue breaking the hush so easily, they'd already been smothered under the weight of it.
Setting the atlas he'd picked up downstairs aside, he peeked down at his phone. It was nearly three, though the sky outside the hotel room window was beginning to darken, becoming overcast.
He could see Nate out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the edge of his bed and contemplating Sophie's nervous pacing, the only motion in the room. Every few circuits, she'd pause to flick the already open curtain aside and look out the window, her expression pinched and drawn. It had been going on for a while now, and it wouldn't have been irritating if he'd never noticed.
They'd all been quiet since arriving at the hotel, but her silence was louder, and eventually it was all too much.
"What's up?" Eliot finally asked Nate, startling Parker, who glanced up from her subway map until she determined that she wasn't the one being discussed, her attention a thousand miles away.
Nate turned his notepad for Eliot to see, not taking his eyes off Sophie as she flicked the curtain aside again. The emptiness of the page was proof enough of his results, empty and unsurprising.
Eliot stretched in his seat and waited, phone in hand, wondering if he was the only one missing Hardison so damned much.
---
Cheap Sneakers had stayed behind with the van while Dog and Halitosis shepherded him through the loading dock doors. They'd hung left, and gone down a concrete block hallway until they'd reached the door at the end. There hadn't been anything there to indicate where he was, no signage or bits of trash or anything, just bluish fluorescent light in the ceilings. Manhattan was still a good bet, though, and an office basement was likely.
They'd shoved him through the door and locked him inside, alone, and he'd tried the heavy door once, but it hadn't given way. He hadn't expected it to.
They'd left the lights on, at least, even if the room was cold and unfurnished. There was nothing worth exploring, no windows, no wires, no other doors. No cameras. Just the flat glare of fluorescent light and a rusted stain on the wall, coming down from a vent with too small an opening for even Parker to fit through.
There was nothing to do besides pace and wait and wish for information that wasn't coming. He paced for a long time, wondering what the others were up to, but he couldn't even imagine, any more. Vague imaginings of costume changes and the pocketing of keys, Nate's terse orders and Parker's quick fingers. Sophie's mouth sliding into the smile that would pave the way and the tension easing from Eliot's back as he prepared to attack the next opponent, kicking an empty gun to the side, out of reach.
Get real, man.
Thugs blasting through the door to grab him, slamming him into the wall. Eliot being thrown in, stumbling to a bloody heap, inert on the floor. Maniacal laughter and the flashing of blades.
Because the Eliot in his head wasn't the Eliot that was out in the world, with an arm tied down and shadows under eyes hidden by a cap pulled low against the cold. Slow moving, if he was even there at all. If he hadn't already slipped out the back.
Eventually, an hour or a day later, he was sitting against the wall, too tired and frustrated and far too fucking close to tears to even fight it anymore.
The door opens, and Dog steps aside for a shorter man to pass through. Pristine and cold and dressed all in black. Smiling in mild amusement as he says, "Sorry kid. He never showed. Nothing personal," as he takes aim.
There was noise, outside in the hallway, just enough warning for him to get off his ass by the time the door was open and a voice was announcing "Alec Hardison. I presume you know who I am?"
---
Nicola wasn't at all what Alec had expected.
Thought he'd be taller, he noted, taking in the thinning hair and the beginnings of a paunch. Were it not for the expensive suit, he would have resembled one of a hundred burned-out social service workers that Alec had could only barely remember.
His eyes slid around the room as he entered, taking in the stains and the walls and the claustrophobic nothingness.
Avoiding him, so Alec had to start. "You wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"
"Of course," Nicola sighed, deliberately giving the impression of a man who wasn't in control of the universe. Alec didn't buy it for a second. "In a few hours, Spencer will turn himself over to us, and you will go free."
"Right," Alec didn't believe him.
"You're of no interest to me, you know. As long as you refrain from doing something…irresponsible, and as long as you're not betrayed, you will come to no harm."
"What about Eliot?" Alec rocked his head back to look down his nose before he realized what he was doing, and that was the moment Nicola chose to finally look at him straight on.
"We'll see, won't we?"
He was prepared to see coldness in those eyes, but there was none, just resigned acceptance and the hint of something manic. Jekyll waiting for Hyde to emerge.
For the first time in this entire fuckstorm of elevators and couches and boredom, he was catching onto the one thing he'd missed.
Total fucking terror.
---
As expected, it was Hardison's number on the caller ID when the phone finally rang.
"Eliot?"
"Are you okay?"
"Uh, fine. All four of you are supposed to be at the Carlyle Hotel at seven." He's scared. Shit. "Wear something nice."
"Okay, just keep-" Eliot began, but the line had already gone dead. Fuck. The others were watching him closely. "The Carlyle in two hours. Sounds formal."
"Really," Sophie was incredulous. "That's a strange place for a hostage exchange."
Nate slid into the chair to pull up the hotel's website. "Ah, okay," he muttered, after a moment. "There's a big charity banquet and awards ceremony going on tonight in the Trianon Suite." He shook his head in annoyance. "Nicola's running the same game that we ran on Geffin."
"We're going to need clothes," Parker said, upending her duffel bag onto the floor. Jeans, a sweatshirt, a couple of harnesses, but no evening gowns, and she eyed Nate's suitcase speculatively. "I mean, we could-"
"Don't start," Eliot grumbled, trying to remember what he'd packed. He'd been expecting to be burning the clothes he'd been wearing, just another pair of jeans and a few warm shirts. Set of sweats, just in case Hardison needed them.
"We don't all live in suits," Parker complained, examining a tee shirt up skeptically as she pulled out her phone.
Sophie set her shoulders back, eying Nate determinedly. "Give me an hour. I can have Eliot, Parker, and myself set, there's a wonderful boutique just down-"
"Fine," Nate waved her off. "Can you think of anything else we need?"
"Tasers. Oh, and Apollo," Parker remembered, heading out into the hallway to get him on the line, missing the looks that were exchanged as she left.
Eliot watched the Nate and Sophie impatiently, because yeah, it was great that Parker might have something going on with this guy, but really, they needed to head out and start recon. "Nate, I'll go over-"
"We're going to have Apollo scoping the place out."
Sophie sorted through the comm. earpieces until she found one that was to her liking, carefully nonchalant as she said, "I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but we don't know him."
"Parker hasn't stabbed him with a fork yet, it's enough for me," Nate tapped at the screen with his pen before scrawling another note as he read. "Right now, I'm more concerned about this fundraiser, see. The website says it's invite only. Sophie, this sounds like your area of expertise once again."
"What's the charity?"
"The Rigg Foundation. Whoever they are."
She collected her purse from the end table. "Find me their number and send it to my phone, I'll make the calls on the way. Eliot, you take a size seventeen collar, correct?
"Yes ma'am," he replied, already starting to wince because her eyes were still on him as she stepped out into the hallway, right into Parker's path. Both stumbled, but the only casualty was Sophie's purse, which tumbled to the floor.
Watching Parker crouch and scramble for the spilled contents, handing them to an apologetically sheepish Sophie, Eliot felt his hands become fists. We seriously don't have the time for this shit. He scowled in Nate's direction, finding him too engrossed in his screen to commiserate.
Sophie finally cleared the door and Parker was left standing there, a puzzled frown on her face as she slid her phone back into her pocket. "He's on his way over. Should be there by the time we're getting ready…" She trailed off, like there was more, but when she didn't immediately continue, Nate took over.
"All right," he spun back from the computer, picking up his phone. "You two just chill out for a bit, do whatever you need to do. I'm getting the number for Sophie, then grabbing a shower."
Eliot was pushing himself away from the wall when Parker coughed. "Uh, guys?"
"What?"
"Why does Sophie already have a pamphlet about the Carlyle in her purse?"
"I don't know, must've picked it up downstairs?" Evidently Nate was having trouble keying the message into the phone.
"In the lobby of a competing hotel?" Parker asked, and Eliot got where she was going with it, just before he saw Nate freeze. "You think she picked it up earlier?"
"Yeah sure," Eliot reasoned, looking towards Nate to answer, "but why would she do that?"
"How the hell should I-" Nate gave up then, and sat down heavily on the bed. "You're sure about what you saw?"
"Yes." Parker crossed her arms, rocking on the balls of her feet.
"You got any idea what it means?" Eliot asked, because he didn't want to be the one to have to answer.
"Yeah." Nate raised his head to study each of them in turn, and it was clear that he was trying to exude some sort of confident calm, but it wasn't working. "It means we've got the advantage. I don't know what the hell she's up to, but at least we're not going in blind. Well. Yeah, we are, but. Not. You know what I mean."
He sighed, heavily, all traces of amusement long gone by the time he spoke them again. "Okay. You two. I'm serious. I know that I always say it and you ignore it anyway," his eyes shifted to Parker. "But this time, no kidding, I need you both to follow my lead on this. We're two down, and compromised already."
"So we're just going to play along?"
"Yeah, actually." Nate frowned. "Hardison, right now. He is our main concern. We'll deal with Sophie as it comes, but. I need to know that the both of you will be okay with this. This won't work, unless… Look. I know that we don't have much of a unified front right now. I can't be worrying about the two of you going off the rails."
"You got it," Eliot said, heading out into the hallway. But nothin' about this is okay.
---
This was all kinds of fucked up. They had the intel he'd been waiting for, and in a few hours, they'd- he'd be doing a hostage exchange, and instead of running down a real plan, Sophie was either shopping for party clothes or meeting with the enemy, and he was stuck in his room, showering and brushing his teeth like it was any other day.
He'd just finished shaving when the phone went off. He wasn't ready for the sudden vertigo, the surety that more bad news was coming, but when he looked at the display, it was merely a text from Nate.
You doing alright?
Eliot snorted. He was sitting in a hotel room, passing the time before going out to kill or be killed. There was really no good way to answer, so he tossed the phone on the bed and crossed from the bed to the window and back again.
Testing his range of movement, he stretched his arm as he paced, carefully, breathing deep against the pull. It still hurt, and he'd probably be out of breath by the time anything even got started, but he was damned if he was putting the sling back on before he had to. Might mean another trip to the hospital, but the hospital beat the morgue, no doubt about it.
Just so long as we're straight on that, his brain pointed out, reminding him in no unclear terms just how close he'd come to losing it entirely last night.
The gun was in the nightstand, and he slid the drawer open carefully, daring it to make him react. That he wished it would was a humorless realization, but it was inert, now.
He could do this.
All he had to do was get to it. Extract Hardison, make sure the team got out, and whatever came next really didn't matter. Dead meant dead, and alive meant leaving. That was all. If he got some answers on the way out, figure out why the hell it had all come to this, he could tell himself it was enough.
There was a clicking sound, and the heater came on, and that was the sum of the world's reaction. It didn't care much, either.
And if he would have rather heard Hardison's voice right then, or been able to tell everyone goodbye or whatever, it wasn't a big deal.
But if he didn't get back to Nate, he'd just wind up barging in, and the mindset Eliot had just begun to carefully maintain would shift again. He texted yeah in response and shut the ringer off. He'd turn it on again in a while.
There were a lot of things he still needed to figure out, a few loose ends. How to play this without bringing anyone else down with him, how to apologize. Sophie's involvement in all of this, but it wasn't central. Hardison.
He wouldn't know for a while yet- there was no way to- but he had time enough to make sure the gun was loaded.
---
Sophie was three minutes late, but if she felt the tension in the room when they were all gathered gain, she didn't show signs, too busy distributing garment bags and telling Parker how to do her hair. Acting like nothing was different, nothing was wrong.
She smiled warmly at Eliot as she held out the suit she'd bought for him, and he'd gone into his room to change. When he presented himself in Nate's room again, Sophie insisted on fixing his tie, chattering happily, and he had to force himself not to scream at how calculated it felt.
"It's so exciting," she enthused, straightening his collar, working it carefully around the sling. "Don't you think?"
"What d'you mean?"
Sophie rolled her eyes. "Going in to rescue Hardison. Sound familiar?"
"Yeah. It's gonna be a blast." He wasn't sure why he was stepping back, if it was suspicion, wariness of her tone, or what. And of course, she picked up on it.
"Eliot, really. You mustn't keep acting like you're expecting us to blame you for any of this. We're all going to be okay, soon enough."
Well, she'd picked up on something, at least. He wished he had Nate's ability to know when Sophie was conning someone, and even caught Nate watching them intently, but there was no telling what was going through the man's mind.
In ten minutes, they'd be leaving, and he still needed to get back to grab his gun.
---
Chill, man. You already knew he was insane. You knew this was coming. So did the crew, and they're all on their way.
Hardison knocked his head against the wall in time to the seconds that weren't really counting down, and rubbed at his eyes.
It'll be bad, yeah. It'll be worse if you don't man the hell up.
He could do this. He could wait for his moment, and this time, he wouldn't miss it.
But Eliot.
He took a breath and held it, letting it out slowly. Your ass is locked in a basement by the next Jeffrey Dahmer, man. You got bigger problems. Like surviving.
He'd just keep telling himself that.
---
Sophie led them to the registration tables where guests were picking up programs and meandering in the general direction of the coat check area. She picked up the envelope of nametags and distributed them once they were away from the table.
"Doctor Albert Graydon? Seriously?"
"Hey, at least you're a doctor," Eliot grumbled, fumbling to drape the elastic over his neck. Glancing down as he pulled the plastic tag free of the sling, he shifted his arm, covering the gun more completely, and looked to Parker, who also got to be a doctor.
Sophie, of course, was playing Nate's trophy wife, and responding to Parker's complaint about the tags. "You don't go attaching stickers to three thousand dollar dresses, dear."
"But it could get caught on something," Parker was saying, her head swiveling to follow Nate, who was heading back towards registration, to wait behind a woman in a fur coat.
Edging up next to him, Parker asked, "What's he doing?" and for a moment it felt like the turnaround, when all would be revealed to make perfect sense. Another case of Nate knowing the score before the game was half over with.
Maybe there's hope, Eliot admitted as he made his way to catch up, but Nate was talking to the woman working the table, his voice carrying a haughty edge. "I was wondering. Has Eliot Spencer's party checked in yet?"
A moment later and an unconcerned shake of the head from a stranger, and Nate nodded, as if the news were expected. He didn't speak until they were heading inside.
"Yeah, they were ready for us." He admitted, but smiled at Sophie. "Guess we didn't need you to get us in." How Nate could be so relaxed about it was beyond Eliot, so he turned to watch the crowd instead.
Nate knew as well as Eliot did that his plan, whatever it was, was already slipping, and he looked like he was waiting more heavily than usual for Parker's response. "Before we go in, where are we at?"
"Apollo's going to-" Parker was interrupted by a man jostling past in a black suit and turtleneck, who was already heading inside by the time Eliot caught sight of him.
Parker opened the program she held to reveal the note inside, and smiled. "He's on comms, now." She slipped the program and its contents into her oversized purse, next to the computer drives.
"Hey folks, welcome to the show," Apollo's voice sounded in Eliot's ear. "It's going down in the back basement. Loading dock entrance, underneath the garage. Cameras are functioning and the security team watching the cameras looks a little suspicious. I'm heading back to check it out."
Back basement. It was the last piece Eliot needed, and he began to turn, but Nate's grip on his arm stopped him.
"Hold up. You head down there now, you're jumping the gun and you know it. Let him do his thing, get us more info."
"Nate," Eliot floundered, furious.
Nate leaned in, cocking his head casually up ahead at Sophie. "You want them to kill Hardison? I'm really damned sorry, but it's the best play and you know it."
Too furious to answer, Eliot stalked towards the reception, keeping his eyes open for an exit.
---
They walked into the middle of some guy's speech. Eliot read the room, looking for the telltale glints of guns that had no place being there, but too often were. He found none, but it failed to set him at ease.
"Though my time at the Rigg Foundation has been short, I've had the honor of working alongside some of the kindest and most generous people around the world. These are people who take their idealism and make it into reality. It is one of these people who it is my pleasure to introduce tonight, as the presenter of this year's Peck ham Award, Linda King.
He didn't know where all the cameras were, or who, exactly, was watching them. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have even registered. He hadn't even realized he'd been taking it for granted all this time.
It was too quiet- not the room, so packed with people and politely unobtrusive music, but on the line.
He gave his earpiece a light tap and found it working, but there was a loud noise on the wire as they slid across the back of the room, a little too close to the engineer working the boards for the sound system, and Eliot wasn't the only one that flinched,.
Hardison would have been on a roll by now, detailing the ridiculousness of some woman's dress, or some other inconsequential detail that would've driven Eliot nuts, anyway. He missed it, though. Missed Hardison's voice enough that it twisted, too much.
"Yeah, we, ah, have to go with the presets tonight, gang. Our producer is, ah...."
"Indisposed?"
Nate nodded in irritated agreement. "Parker, Sophie? Circulate, but, ah, Parker? Keep it cool." Eliot rolled his eyes in annoyance and hoped Nate hadn't just given everything away.
"What do we do now?" Eliot kept his eyes on the stage, watching a nervously smiling blonde cross with note cards in one hand as the other came up to pat at her hair as she headed for the dais.
"We sit here and listen to a boring speech, apparently," Nate scratched at his chin and tugged at his collar, loosening it slightly. "Keep an eye out, anyone sees anything, you tell me."
Eliot looked over to see Parker glaring a hole into the back of Sophie's head as she followed close behind. Remembering why she was so intent should have made it worse, but he was already too sick to notice.
---
Alec thought he heard voices rising outside the door, thought this is it, but again, nothing happened.
Nicola had been lurking outside the door since their brief meeting, occasionally giving hushed orders that Alec strained and failed to hear. Every once in a while, his shadow passed back or forth through the gap beneath the door.
He'd been relieved when Nicola left, just moments before, but now, he wasn't so sure.
Just a few feet on the other side of the door paced a tired man with a mean streak, waiting on some last vital detail.
If the straw that broke the camels back came when Alec couldn't see it, he couldn't prepare. But he tried, anyway, tapping out the seconds on his knee, telling himself to be ready. Concentrating on the moves he'd have to make when his chance came. Enumerating every single silent signal Eliot had ever sent his way, telling him to run, stay down, or just get the hell out of the way. The slide of his eyes as he scanned his opponent, the smirk that crossed his face whenever he knew he had the advantage.
Focus, man. Ain't useful, he thought, but he didn't try over hard to fight them off.
---
Apart from the occasional glance down at his phone, Eliot's eyes, like Nate's, were trained on Parker and Sophie as their circuit of the room brought them near again. From where he and Nate stood, as far from the engineering booth as they could be without getting lost in the swarm, the speakers overhead were loud enough that even with the intermittent noise on the line, it wasn't worth trying to talk.
There wasn't anything to talk about, anyway, and the woman onstage droned on.
"… hard to grasp the momentousness of what this really means to a community, and I don't have the experience to explain it. But it is my hope that the recipient of the Peckham Award may be able to succeed where I have failed. It is therefore my honor to introduce to you the Chief Medical Officer and Director of the Trevor Hastings Memorial Hospital in Kadwe, Doctor Edward Hastings."
There was another round of applause as a man took the stage, made of the same muscle-gone-soft that had formed his dad's brother out in Chicago. Eliot hadn't seen him since the funeral, but the man joining the blonde was twenty years too young, anyway.
And he was from Kadwe. If Eliot didn't ease his grip on the phone, he'd wind up crushing it. "Nate?"
"I know, Eliot, I." Nate waved his hands, his eyes not moving from the stage. "Guys?
Quick geography lesson, anyone want to try and guess where Kadwe is?"
Sophie hurried over, Parker trailing behind, looking down at the program in her had. "Myanmar. Funny, the program doesn't say anything about-"
"Screw the damned program," Eliot hissed, trying to get a better look at the man rising from a packed table at the front of the room, and heading up onto the stage.
"You recognize him?"
"No. What do you think it means?"
Nate examined the doctor for a moment, and shrugged. "Well. I'm guessing that our guest of honor didn't come alone."
Doctor Hastings was finally in the midst of giving his impassioned thanks, and now that Eliot was paying attention, he could hear the slight overtones in his voice. He'd been a long time in Myanmar, all right, but judging by the dismayed expression Nate wore, Eliot wasn't the only one feeling like they were seeing it too late.
The doctor was stepping away from the microphone to wrap the woman in a hug as the room filled with applause once again. From where Eliot stood, he could just barely see her lips move, but there was no hearing what she said over the crowd.
Or there shouldn't have been.
"It's my pleasure, Doctor Hastings, really," a new voice spoke in his ear, but when he turned, he saw no one. It was feeding back through the speakers, too. "Thank you so much for all that you've done."
"What the hell?" Eliot spun, looking for Hardison's explanation, forgetting he wasn't there, and finding the others trying to hide the same surprise.
"How-" Parker's hand was rising to her ear when a hand caught her wrist, gently.
“Interference with the sound system," Nate explained, indicating the speakers and the soundboard.
“How do you fix it?” Parker looked to Eliot for an explanation.
“How the hell should I know?"
"I don't know. How about you kids move away from the very large array of audio electronics?" Apollo's voice came over the comms, and for a minute it almost felt like Hardison was there. Parker almost smiled, and Nate rolled his eyes as the house lights came on and music began to play.
"It seems that they're done now," Sophie observed as they stepped towards the door. "I think we should probably ingratiate ourselves with the good doctor's entourage, don't you think?"
Eliot swiveled his head around to look. "I don't see him."
"Then we find him," Sophie stated. "The doctor wouldn't have gone far, would he?"
"Good thing you already know this place so well," Parker grumbled, and Sophie ground to a halt.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean." Parker looked nervously in Nate's direction, but continued. "You already know your way around. You knew about this place before we even got here."
"Parker," Nate warned, pulling a face, but before he could continue, Sophie spun around to face Parker.
"I'm not sure I like your tone." Her tone was arch and patronizing.
"I'm not sure I like your you," Parker kicked at the long skirt she was wearing over her jeans and pointed an accusing finger at Sophie, ignoring Eliot's warning hiss. "You lied to us. You know more than you're saying. I saw the brochure."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Nate studied Sophie's face, an intense examination, and a moment later, he exploded.
"What the hell's going on?! You know, I can't believe this, you're running around behind our back-"
"No, Nate. I. I was meeting someone, all right?"
"Who?"
"A friend, Sophie insisted. "A man, who has nothing at all to do with this."
"So why all the secrecy?"
"Habit? The fact that it's a crass thing to bring up, in the middle of all this?" Sophie replied, loud enough that some of the other guests were taking notice. "You."
"Me?" Nate sneered in disbelief. "What do I have to do with it?"
"Exactly." Sophie's smile was tight and humorless, and apparently, Nate saw right through it.
"You're lying. Right now. You're-" Nate looked like he was biting the inside of his mouth, keeping himself in check, and Eliot could feel the metal heavy against his own chest, and watched his world fall apart just a little bit more.
"I can't. Nate. We don't know who's listening, it could. I'm not working against you, here. You've got to believe me."
"No, I do not, actually."
"Just. Give me the chance to prove it-" She took her earpiece out and motioned for Nate and the others to do the same.
"You've got something to say? Have a plan? I'm sure we'd all like to hear it."
Sophie'd apparently had it. "So would we, Nathan. This isn't a plan, it's no strategy at all! We're simply here to deliver the sacrificial lamb, and you know it. As well as I."
"So what, you got a better idea? We've been fielding all offers for days, now Sophie. You got something, you should've told us already, or at least tell us now."
"You can trust me, Nate. I promise." Sophie was close to tears. Eliot wondered if they were real.
"Hardison's life is on the line, Eliot's too, and we've got you running a game on us, so I'd say the chances of that happening are slim to none. What I can't see is why."
He was nearly shouting, gesticulating wildly as he gathered steam. He hadn't been this angry since the last time Sophie had screwed them. "Is. What are you playing at? Is this supposed to be a distraction? 'Cause I'm only interested in one thing. Nobody's going home dead tonight. So either you give us enough to work with, here, or you get the hell out-
"Fine," Sophie started to turn, glaring at each of them in turn. "I won't get in your way, and you don't get in mine." She tossed her earpiece at Nate's feet and stalked towards the doors, away from them.
Nate made as if to follow, but turned his glare instead at Parker, his facial muscles working rigorously at staying calm. "What did I tell you at the hotel?"
"I. I wasn't," Parker floundered, wilting as the reality of it hit her. "I thought that maybe I could find out what her angle was. If this went wrong, I. I didn't mean to ruin it." She sniffed once before pulling herself up to meet Nate's eyes for a long moment.
She didn't like what she found, and was halfway across the room before Eliot realized she'd left. "Great, they're both gone," he muttered. "Nice."
Nate snorted, still glaring after Parker, and turned on his heel. "You're the last one who should be talking right now, you know that?"
That's it.
There was only so much bullshit Eliot was willing to take, and he dodged ahead of him, forcing him to a standstill.
"You want me to go hunt these fuckers down? I can do that. You want me to do this clean? Wait for your orders? I can do that. I am doing that. But you can't have it both ways. And I get it, man, I know what this is all about, but I don't have a goddamned time machine, and even if I did-"
Even as he stared over Eliot's shoulder, the fight seemed to go out of him, but it felt too final. "Look. You need to focus. We'll sort everyone out or we won't, but right now-"
The phone was vibrating in his hand, but he had to make sure Nate heard him, first. "We get through this last one…" he promised, and raised the phone to his ear.
---
There was a sound, a metallic thump and a dragging sound, and then a small skittering. It was coming up from the left, from the vent set into the wall.
He checked again, but Nicola's shadow wasn't moving, and the murmur of his voice hadn't come to a dangerous halt, yet, so maybe…
Moving carefully, he eased himself into a crouch, before crossing the room to the vent, listening close. Another sound, indistinct, but quieter, coming from further away. Whatever it was, it was gone, but he hadn't misheard.
He tried to peer into the vent, but it was too dark to see more than a few inches. There was no movement, no flashes of light, no indication that Parker was up there. And he couldn't call out, not without alerting Nicola.
It's nothing, he tried to convince himself, but he didn't want to believe it.
There was another voice outside the door, now, Halitosis, maybe. He might have said something along the lines of "party's in full swing."
Party? There were people nearby.
That was good, that was something to know. Could be useful.
Or it could be nothing. He could have misheard, wishful thinking making him hear things. Like hearing a random noise inside the air ducts and assuming rescue was coming.
He snorted at his own idiocy and angrily glared again into the vent, at the dust crusting the edges, the dead fly caught at the edge. The screws holding the faceplate down, the bolt on the inside and the plastic behind it.
Laughter, from outside, and he was turning away in frustration before his brain supplied recognition of the plastic's form.
He looked again, carefully. It was an earpiece, there, caught behind the fittings three inches back. He shoved his fingers through the metal slats, feeling them pull hard at his skin and scrape painfully across his knuckles as he tried to reach, but he couldn't. He was stuck.
Think, man. If he'd had a pen on him, or a paperclip, or a screwdriver, he'd have the thing in his hands already.
Pulling his fingers out again felt even worse, but he had proof of concept.
Hell, a damn Q-tip would work.
He looked down at himself. They'd made him empty his pockets days ago, and left him with nothing. All he had were the clothes he'd worn to go meet Eliot, a century and a half ago. Slip on shoes, jeans, shirt and a hoodie.
The drawstring from the hood trailed down over his chest, the metal tips waving back at him as if to say "Hi, moron," and Alec grinned.
It's on, my friends.
Keeping his eyes on the shadows under the door, he tugged the cord until he had enough length to work with, plan already forming. Running it along the middle and index fingers of his uninjured hand, he pinched it between them so the hard metal tip extended that last inch.
Taking a deep breath and looking over his shoulder, he reached back into the vent, trying not to imagine fingers too ruined to type. There was just enough space between the bolt and the wall that if he could knock the earpiece just a bit, it would slip through, and either hit the floor or get caught by the bottom slat.
He'd never been happier to be right about something, watching it slide down, even if he ripped his fingers out too roughly in his haste to extract it. He'd just caught the earpiece between his fingers when the door burst open behind him.
"Hey!" Nicola's voice raised a sharp alarm, and footsteps pounded across the concrete floor. "Hands on your head, asshole!"
Careful to only present his profile as he turned, his finished extracting the earpiece, still caught between his fingers, and palmed it as he slid his hands to the back of his head.
"That's the stupidest escape attempt I've ever seen," Halitosis grumbled, using his gun to wave Alec back against the far wall, his attention noting the sad state of his bloodied fingers, but giving no indication of having seen the device pressing into Alec's head, mere inches away from where it would be useful.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Alec explained.
"Just keep your hands there." Dog ordered, going over to inspect the grate, which was bent out of shape, but clearly not enough to be useful. "And you, keep an eye on him. Anyhow," he addressed Nicola, "You ready to go?"
In answer, Nicola opened up the laptop he'd been carrying, and though Alec couldn’t' see the screen, he wasn't at all surprised to feel an intense surge of longing.
It was frustrating as hell. Two lines of communication, just inches out of reach.
He was distracted enough by his thoughts that he wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"The charges are laid and live?"
Charges?
"Yes sir," Dog confirmed.
"Then let's do this." Finally focusing his attention on Alec for the moment, he grinned tightly. "Do put your hands down. You've got a call to make."
There's a bomb. Maybe several..
Alec moved slowly, careful not to drop the concealed earpiece, and held his other hand out.
Nicola dialed, turning the speaker on, and gave it to him. "Remember, please, that should you attempt to screw us, you're merely the first life forfeited."
---
On to Chapter 17, Part 2