Man I Used to Be #17.2
Chapter 17, Part 2
---
"Hardison?" Nate leaned in, trying to listen, so Eliot put the phone up to his other ear.
"Hey, man," came the reply, and Nate nodded and shrugged, apparently the comms were picking up the sound, barely. Hardison was still talking. "Thanks for coming, but you gotta watch out when you-" there was a scuffle on the other end of the line, movement and impacts and Hardison's voice punching through it all. "It's a trap!"
No shit some part of his brain supplied, even as he called Hardison's name into the phone, getting no response. He strained to hear, pressing the phone closer against his ear, but it sounded like the phone had been dropped.
Silence on the line, no voices, but no gunfire, either. Yet. He scowled furiously about the loud reception hall, all the idiots in their nice clothes drinking wine, having a simply wonderful time while Hardison...
"…fucking shoot you if you don't …" Eliot couldn't hear over his own breathing, so he stopped, looking away from Nate's horrified expression, and scanned over the room.
He hated all of them, hated their noise and their smug smiles, and couldn't take this anymore, barking "Hey!" into the phone, screw the witnesses, but Nate was the only one to notice.
Intermittent bursts of "Okay, man…hold up…a'ight…I'm cool…" were all Hardison had by way of response. He obviously wasn't addressing him, but he was still talking, still alive, so Eliot didn't punch the waiter that strolled by a hair too close out of sheer frustration.
He drew a breath and rolled his eyes, but there wasn't enough time to wait, so he tried again. "Okay, okay, would someone tell me what the hell is going on?"
There was a cough on the other end, then Hardison was back on, his voice careful, subdued. Eliot tried to guess the caliber of the gun was aimed at his head. "They've got explosives."
Nate was watching him impatiently, poised as if to strike out, steal the phone, and Eliot squeezed his eyes shut. They were even more blown than he'd thought they'd be.
Seriously? You really didn't see it coming?
He wanted to pull away, turn so Nate couldn't hear him as he asked. "What do I gotta do?"
But it wasn't Hardison's voice that answered him. "I want you to listen, I want you to obey, and then I want you to atone."
---
The bloody tang in his mouth was nearly enough to make him sick, but the truth was, Alec hadn't felt so settled in days.
They know. You warned them in time, it's all good..
What they were going to do with the information, though, he hadn't the first clue.
He crouched in the corner, wiping the blood from his nose, trying to tell if it was broken. It hurt like a bitch, but apparently now that he'd been subdued, Dog didn't seem to be overly concerned with watching him too closely. Rubbing a hand at his head, he managed to slip the earpiece in. He sat back, listening, and waited for the information to come.
---
Nate held open the door into the lobby, and once they gained distance on the bulk of the party guests, Eliot turned the speakerphone on, grimacing. "You forgot to tell me to come alone."
"I don't have to. Judging by what I'm seeing here, you'll be alone soon enough. You'll be interested to know that your pretty blonde friend has fled the premises."
Exchanging wary glances with Nate, Eliot sneered towards the camera, sure that Nicola would see it. "We're here. Where do we go now?"
"Turn left past the second bank of elevators and take the stairs. The basement door's open."
They started down the hallway, deliberately casual as three women came giggling out of the restroom on their right.
"Who are you?" Eliot tried, once they'd passed.
"The man holding a gun to your friend's head."
Next to Eliot, Nate shrugged, muttering a grim "at least we know it's not the doctor, then."
"What is all this about? Why are you doing this?"
"Trevor Hastings."
Eliot sought out Nate's equally confused face, but found him already opening up the program he'd pulled from his pocket. "The hospital?" What the hell does that have to do with anything?
"I don't understand. That name means nothing to me."
"Exactly. You never even stopped to look. Ran past his body, bleeding in the dirt, and carried on your way."
"It was war." They emerged from the stairwell into darkness, which was quickly remedied by virtue of the switch at Nate's elbow, revealing a long, doorless corridor that branched off some eighty feet down.
"There was war, yes. But it had ended, when your government decided to make deals with devils. Unofficially, of course, otherwise they would have sent soldiers. Not mercenaries, paid under the table. Take that hallway, down to the end, and turn right."
Eliot struck out an arm, stopping Nate before ducking his head around the corner, and poked his head around the corner to survey, as Nicola continued.
"We were rebuilding. My son, he was a part of that. Cleaning up after years of death and misery, trying to create something new. Not just a way to survive, but an actual future. When there was no money, he went to the bombed-out remains of what had once been a hospital and pulled apart the rubble for materials with his bare hands. You know what he was doing when you shot him in the back?
Eliot scowled, rolling his eyes despite himself. "Shooting at me?"
Concrete brick walls painted tan, and brown commercial carpeting did little against the cold blue green of the fluorescent tubes lining the corridor; it still seemed that there was more shadow than light. Down at the dark end, as promised, was the door he wanted.
"He was running wires through the cracks in the walls. So we could have power. Light. Hot water. And it wasn't finished yet, when he fell from the scaffolding due to yet another stray bullet. From your gun."
"What?" Eliot couldn't have heard right. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. The blood froze in his veins, though, warningly, and for the hundredth time, he tried to remember.
The press of bodies surging through the hot dusty square when the shots ring out. The yells of annoyed mothers calling after children quickly turning to scared cries as waves of people push together and apart, only scattering at the edges, nowhere near here.
Looking back over his shoulder to where the man he'd rescued not twenty minutes before lay dying and trampled. He would have been safer in the prison, but it's too late to worry about it now, the six guards behind him are closing in from the west end of the market, back where the first of them went down.
Spinning forward and shaking his distraction in time to see two more guns up ahead, dodging behind a market stall, sliding in bird shit and nearly going down. Over the half wall and out the back, but they've changed direction, too. They're taking aim but Eliot's faster this time.
Only he's not. He's squeezing the trigger, but there's a kid, must've been hiding right next to where Eliot's standing, and Eliot wouldn't ever have known if the kid hadn't elbowed past him as he wrestles his way back towards the alley. The shot goes wide. The kid runs faster when he hears the return fire, but it's not Eliot's problem. He missed, he has to keep moving.
In the next three minutes, another guard goes down dead, and he makes it to the edge of town, dodges behind the schoolhouse, and he's made it to the truck. He's gone.
It's the same thing he's remembered a hundred times. But he'd never thought about the shot that went off target.
Nate was waiting for answers, but Eliot had none. The vertigo was bad enough with his mouth shut.
Seven years later, and still adding to the body count.
---
It took everything Alec had not to react, not to call out, not to ask questions, not to respond to the small choked noise Eliot had made that broke his heart, because.
It wasn't the guards.
He'd blown it. Big time. His research hadn't gone anywhere near where it had needed to go. He'd managed to have the exact geographic location, but he'd been miles away.
It made a disgusting amount of sense, though.
They'd retrieved Kevin's belongings from the rude woman working the evidence lockup at the police station. Mama was upstairs in Nana's room, crying up another storm, but Alec was too numb to go deal with either of them. He wasn't her son anymore, not these days.
He sat in the kitchen, sliding the unwanted can of soda around on the table and listened to Mama's boyfriend spell it out for him. How there was no sympathy for the man who dies with a gun in his hand. How cops, soldiers, thugs all, at some point, made the choice to pick up a gun and throw down.
How if Kevin had died because of a bullet that wasn't intended for him, that bitch at the police station wouldn't have blown Mama off like she had. Whatever the combination of heroic, tragic, or criminal, the concern of strangers always ran harder for the innocent.
Alec nodded, wishing the smell of alcohol on Martin's breath wasn't so strong, wondering how soon he could retreat to his room, wishing that he'd take Mama and just leave, already.
Vengeance for those who died in the line of duty was the stuff of movies, probably. It wasn't as real, not like vengeance for family. His old neighborhood was evidence of that, and you could call it what you like, but it was real.
He should have seen this coming.
---
"I'm sorry he died," Eliot tried, and he was pretty sure he meant it.
"You don't understand," Nicola answered, because Eliot couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of calling him Edward yet. "He didn't."
Light shone through underneath the door, and the only reason he could see even this much was the last light in the hall was burned out entirely.
Or turned off He went still as he examined what he could. There was something, up in right corner that could have been part of the electrical system, but was probably a camera.
Doesn't matter. They know you're coming.
All he had to do was get there.
On the left side of the long hallway, down on the far end, was a set of utility doors that probably led out to loading docks or a workshop. Without Hardison on the line, there was no way to know which, and no way to know if they would provide a good exit. For all he knew it either went right out to the street, or a dead end full of broken and shelved HVAC equipment.
"Do you know what locked-in syndrome is? Do you know what it does to a family? His wife gave birth to their daughter three months after you destroyed his life, and what should have been the happiest day of their lives was an awkward introduction of mute strangers. My daughter in law would have starved, trying to feed her child and her husband with no income to speak of. But we look after our own. I made deals with devils, and learned to make better deals."
Eliot sighed. "I'm sorry, I really am. I was under orders and things got hot. I didn't even know until now."
If there wasn't Hardison to worry about, if there wasn't a building full of people who had nothing to do with this, he would've pointed out that Nicola could have been a hell of a less cryptic. It was strange to have a name to attach to the pictures he'd memorized, but he couldn't think about it right now.
A bulletin board hung empty at the halfway point, but beyond that, it was a straight shot, and the doors at the end would probably open into the hallway. Even if they didn't, as long as he kept to the right, he'd see the movement before they could see him.
It would give him enough time to duck into one of the three doorways, set back from the main corridor and spaced evenly, every fifteen feet. There was no way to tell if they were open or locked. Three blind spots which, once secured, could be useful for cover.
The right side of the hall was more interesting. A secondary hallway branched off about twenty feet ahead, and past that, three sets of doors, set back from the main corridor. Three zones to clear and secure, but they'd be useful for cover on the way out, should they need it. But they wouldn't be coming for him on the approach, anyway.
Nicola sighed heavily into the phone, it came through the speakerphone as a hiss of noise. "Of course you didn't. You destroy lives as if they were nothing, because to you, they are. You have no care, no heart. To you, your acts are just orders, and lives are the price of doing business."
"That's not true," Nate argued, Nicola laughed, and Eliot went still, ducking back from the hallway, out of sight of the cameras.
Nicola wasn't wrong, but Eliot wasn't going to let him know it.
"If you're right, then you'll allow him his penance." Nicola laughed. "You don't get it, do you? Tonight, everything? Funds for the final repairs? The hospital's to be named after my only son, once the renovations are complete, and the supplies brought in. And it's his home, and will be, until his time comes. And for all that, you've never met him. You stepped over his body and continued on your way, destroying four lives without a glance. You never. Even. Noticed."
"So what, you're going to kill him in return?" Nate growled, loud enough to be heard, apparently having forgotten everything Eliot had told him about hostage negotiations. "It's not going to make it right, and it's not going to fix anything."
Frustrated, Nicola's responding growl gave him the cover he needed, though, so maybe he'd been paying attention. "What d'you need?" Nate's tone was surprisingly calm, and though Eliot would never admit it, it was comforting.
He shook his head and gestured up the stairs, seeing for the first time what Nate had already noticed. They were standing in a blind spot, no cameras aimed in their direction. They were in the clear until they rounded the corner. "Keep watch. You see anyone coming through those doors, let me know." It wasn't everything he wanted, but it would have to do.
Nate bowed his head, producing two small objects from his pocket. Tracking devices, like the one they'd used to track Parker in Serbia. One for them to find, one to keep, Eliot realized, slipping one into his jeans, and the other into his mouth. The latter, he tongued into place between his molars and the inside of his cheek.
It was the first sign that Nate had tried to prepare, for any of this, that he'd seen.
Another moment, and he twisted, leading with his shoulder, and began his trek down the hallway, Nate following close behind.
"Hello Eliot, it's good to see you, again." Nicola's voice confirmed the camera's presence. He slowed his steps. "Here's how we're going to play it. Straight trade. When you reach the halfway point, I will release Alec Hardison. If either of you run for it, I will detonate the charges early."
That was the stupidest thing Eliot had ever heard. "Killing yourself in the process?"
"Of course not. I never stated that this building has been mined, did I? Please remember that I find such measures distasteful, and would prefer not to use them. Whether or not I get over my little aversion is entirely up to you."
"How do we know you won't just blow it up once you have him?"
"I have my honor, I'm sending your man out with a map to where both charges have been placed. With your numbers so horribly reduced, I doubt very much that you would be able to initiate a rescue mission and reach them both in time. I'm counting on you, Mister Ford, to make the right call. So, if you would please take your leave back towards the stairs, and Mister Spencer, if you would be so kind as to leave your gun on the floor and slide it a safe distance down the left hallway, we can begin."
Surprise covered Nate's offence half a second too late, but he winked at him, then. The barest hint of a headshake before his voice went cold. Follow my lead.
"You brought a gun?"
Eliot searched Nate's face, because if there was a lead he was trying to follow, it meant that maybe there was a plan. He drew the gun out from the sling and showed it to him.
"I can't believe this, you. You're endangering the entire team here, Eliot. You lied to us. Remember what you promised?"
Never promised anything. Eliot blinked, and then he finally got it. "This is different," he replied.
"No, this is the entire problem. What else have you been lying about, huh? The job in Kansas? Miami? Whatever, there's no time. We're done. Just do what he says. Try not to get a whole lot of people killed."
"Fine." Eliot reached down to place the gun on the floor, kicking it slowly back down the hallway.
Nate's eyes were telling him, though, that they weren't finished. Have to make it look good. He held off, for a second, pretending to realize something. "Hang on, You're in on it, aren't you?"
"What?" Nate's voice was almost a little too indignant, but it probably barely registered on the phone.
"You're working with him."
"No, Eliot, I'm just making sure nobody else gets killed," Nate argued, but his smirk told him he was on the right track.
"No, see, it's all making sense, now. The entire past few months. Kansas. Pittsburgh, you knew, you had to know." Telegraphing his movements, he brought his good arm up to shove Nate against the wall by the throat.
"You're the only liar, here," Nate said. "Already destroyed the team, so, what, you want more blood on your hands?"
"No!" Eliot floundered, because this was all hitting a little too close to home, too much to know how to react, but thankfully, Nicola had finally run out of patience.
"I'm still waiting, you know." By the smug tone in his voice, however, it was clear that he was enjoying the show. Nate used Eliot's distraction to wrestle him back a bit, maneuver his arm between them.
Eliot felt something cold and heavy being pressed against his chest, moving carefully into place, exactly where he'd been hiding the surrendered gun. Another second more, once it was settle securely, he shoved against Nate one last time and stepped away, too surprised for words.
Nate had been packing, too.
Brushing the arms of his suit coat, and sniffing snidely, Nate leaned towards him, speaking clearly enough to be heard on the phone.
"You brought this down on us, you're seeing this through. After tonight, you're done with us. Hardison doesn't get out of this alive, I'll destroy you myself."
He gave Eliot a long, intense look, and did the right thing, the one thing that Eliot couldn't deal with, not then.
He apologized, wished him luck with too many expressions crossing his face, turned, and walked away.
----
Alec wished he'd never picked up the earpiece.
He'd been wondering where Sophie and Parker were, because if this were any other job, Parker's security updates and the Sophie's ends of conversations could usually be heard.
Sometimes, they were just listening as carefully as he was, now. Waiting for their cues. But this was different.
Eliot thought Nate was involved, Nate thought Eliot deserved it, and by this point, Sophie, at least, should have been there to talk some sense back into both of them.
But Sophie was gone. Parker, too. at least she dropped the comms on the way out
He'd missed the splinter, and was still hearing the break, but now it was Halitosis' cough and Dog's grumbled "get your ass up" that he had to deal with.
He pushed himself up, using the wall for leverage as the room began to swim, just a little bit, and was surprised to take a step towards the door without a bullet meeting him halfway.
"Have a good day," Nicola grinned, which seemed a fucked thing to say when thrusting a map of bombs into someone's hand, but it wasn't like Alec had much by way of comparison. The door opened, and he was released into the hallway. He heard the guards moving behind them, guns still at the ready, and he was pretty sure one of them was focused on the back of his head.
He didn't turn to check. Wouldn't have, anyway, and not just because he didn't want to tempt fate. It was hard to see anything besides the anger in Eliot's eyes, staring down the guns as he approached.
"El," Alec started, not expecting him to register the sound, and definitely not ready for the glance he cut his way. Like he'd given up. Like this was goodbye.
"Keep going. Please don't blow this," he pleaded, and already, he was passing by.
But Alec knew better than to turn and watch him go.
---
Nate had apologized and wished him luck. There hadn't been a plan, after all. He'd just been evening the odds.
Whatever came next was up to him, and him alone. No backup. No plan.
No fucking chance.
Nate hadn't condoned it, but he hadn't condemned him. Eliot would have to handle that on his own.
He didn't hesitate in his steps, and he wasn't delaying. He was moving carefully, tactfully towards the man with the detonator, there was a difference.
Hardison was coming towards him, map in hand, bloodied and dirty and terrified, and trying to break out into a smile.
Alive and fucking gorgeous.
"El," he whispered in a dry voice as they drew near, one word standing for a thousand others, sounding huge, like it was coming from inside his head.
Or possibly his earpiece. One gigantically small word that could send everything going to hell.
He couldn't let it matter, not right now. Not anymore. Every step Hardison took, the closer he was to safety.
So when there was sudden drag to his step, as he threatened to slow, all Eliot could see was the explosion that would surely come next.
"Keep going. Please don't blow this."
Hardison's eyes flashed, sad and disappointed and afraid, but he listened, for once. Kept walking. If Alec was leaving him, or letting Eliot leave, it really didn't matter anymore, because there were only a few yards left to go before he was heading through the door, and already, he could see all three occupants of the room.
Two more steps, and he was choosing his first target.
Hardison had caught up with Nate, somewhere behind him, he could hear their voices on the phone, quick and stumbling over each other, but he can't tell if they're clearing the area, not without taking his eyes off the guns as he steps into the room, and coming to a horrible understanding.
If he screwed up, somewhere, a building would fall, trap someone inside with no access to water, food, air, or quick death.
He couldn't risk it, not yet, not with the phone in Nicola's hand, not with Hardison's voice in his ear, ordering Nate to catch him up.
He wanted to take the earpiece out, but it was just impulse, not instinct. He didn't want the others to hear this. It was fucked enough, on his end, already.
All he could hear, all he could understand, were the guns in his face and Hardison's voice in his head, fucking amazing and maybe the last thing he'd ever hear, and he was starting to think it was enough.
But then Nicola spoke, and ruined everything.
---
"You see my face now, and you see the resemblance. You also, by now, have ascertained that I care not whether you survive the evening." Nicola checked his watch. "But it appears that you shall, at least for a short time. I should return to the festivities, wonderful as this has been. I assume you're ready to transport him?"
"Yes." A third guard stepped in behind and around him, one hand holding a gun to Eliot's head, the other holding a small leather case. "You want us to take his earpiece?"
"No. His friends need to hear everything." Pulling on the suit coat he had folded over his arms, he continued, addressing the guard with the stained white shoes.
"I will meet you out there in a few hours. Don't cancel the countdown until he's in the van, and remember. If he's dead or gone before I arrive, remember, our deal's off."
The guards grunted their understanding. The larger of the two were smart enough to keep a careful distance, covering the third while he opened the case, withdrawing a hypodermic needle. Eliot didn't need to wonder what it contained.
He wished, for a moment, that the guard would take it upon himself to find some mouthwash, sometime this century, but the distraction was fleeting.
Clapping his hands together, Nicola snorted. "Well. While you engage in transporting our guest, I must go and make the last rounds, bestow more thanks upon our benefactors." He moved towards the door, and Eliot knew, like he always knew these things, that this was his chance was near.
Under the guise of crossing his arm, his finger brushed along the barrel of the gun. If he could just turn, slightly, away, he'd have it out in time to end this. End all of it. The life he didn't want to return to, and the one that he didn't want to leave. He dropped his gaze to the floor, surreptitiously glancing down at the gun, and thought about asking someone's forgiveness, but there was motion.
"I don't think you'll need to keep the appointment."
Linda King followed her gun into the room, looking much more confident than she had up on stage as she maintained her aim on the back of Nicola's head, but it was she that held the entirety of Eliot's attention. Nor was it the horrified expression freezing on Nicola's face.
It was Sophie, slipping into the room after her, sliding to the side, her gun trained on the man with the needle, who held that honor.
"Well this is just great," The guard with the leathery skin and bad hair grumbled, and part of Eliot, at least, had to agree with him.
"You want a payout, or you want to live?" Sophie was all icy calm and razorblades, talking like she hadn't just made everything a hundred times more complicated. "It's up to you. Set your guns down and slide them towards the door."
"And get your asses down on the floor," the blonde added, driving the muzzle into the back of Nicola's skull, following him down as he obeyed.
The third guard, though, the one with the ugly shoes, looked like he was thinking about fighting. It was as good a time as any for Eliot to draw his own gun. It felt belated and clumsy in his hand, but by the time it was out, it wasn't needed any more.
He wouldn't have to kill anyone.
He choked back a sob of relief, but that was all he allowed himself, because "Hello Eliot," Sophie was saying, sliding the third guard's gun into her purse. "I'm glad to see you're okay." Standing up, she turned her aim towards the disarmed guards again, allowing Linda to go rummage through her own purse for a handful of plastic zip strips.
"Uh, yeah." Computer drives, weapons, restraints? Seriously. Gotta start carrying a purse. "You too," he said, like he hadn't expected to be dead by now. "You wanna fill me in?"
"That will take some time, and I'd just assume have everyone in one place while we go over it." She gestured down to Linda. "In the meantime, I'd like you to meet Tara Cole."
"Hi," the woman said, grinning happily as she glanced up from the task at hand, like this was something she did every day, like she belonged there.
It wasn't until she had Nicola rolled to the side that Eliot realized that he'd been concealing a gun as well, but by then, it was too late to stop the blood from spattering the walls.
---
Chapter 18
As a consolation prize for letting me jerk you around so much, here's the first half of the soundtrack I compiled (attn flist: it's the same one I posted before):
Alec's Soundtrack (Download the .zip here.)
1. Hard-Fi- Unnecessary Trouble
2. The Flobots- Handle Bars
3. Tunng- The Pioneers
4. Kill Hannah- They Can't Save Us Now
5. Faultline- Where's My Boy
6. Snow Patrol- Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
7. Imogen Heap- Clear the Area
8. New Order- Turn My Way
9. Mew- Snow Brigade
10. Forward Russia- Thirteen
11. Terra Firma- Now's the Time
12- Pet Shop Boys- Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) (Okay, so it doesn't fit, but, come on. It totally works, and you know it. :D
---
"Hardison?" Nate leaned in, trying to listen, so Eliot put the phone up to his other ear.
"Hey, man," came the reply, and Nate nodded and shrugged, apparently the comms were picking up the sound, barely. Hardison was still talking. "Thanks for coming, but you gotta watch out when you-" there was a scuffle on the other end of the line, movement and impacts and Hardison's voice punching through it all. "It's a trap!"
No shit some part of his brain supplied, even as he called Hardison's name into the phone, getting no response. He strained to hear, pressing the phone closer against his ear, but it sounded like the phone had been dropped.
Silence on the line, no voices, but no gunfire, either. Yet. He scowled furiously about the loud reception hall, all the idiots in their nice clothes drinking wine, having a simply wonderful time while Hardison...
"…fucking shoot you if you don't …" Eliot couldn't hear over his own breathing, so he stopped, looking away from Nate's horrified expression, and scanned over the room.
He hated all of them, hated their noise and their smug smiles, and couldn't take this anymore, barking "Hey!" into the phone, screw the witnesses, but Nate was the only one to notice.
Intermittent bursts of "Okay, man…hold up…a'ight…I'm cool…" were all Hardison had by way of response. He obviously wasn't addressing him, but he was still talking, still alive, so Eliot didn't punch the waiter that strolled by a hair too close out of sheer frustration.
He drew a breath and rolled his eyes, but there wasn't enough time to wait, so he tried again. "Okay, okay, would someone tell me what the hell is going on?"
There was a cough on the other end, then Hardison was back on, his voice careful, subdued. Eliot tried to guess the caliber of the gun was aimed at his head. "They've got explosives."
Nate was watching him impatiently, poised as if to strike out, steal the phone, and Eliot squeezed his eyes shut. They were even more blown than he'd thought they'd be.
Seriously? You really didn't see it coming?
He wanted to pull away, turn so Nate couldn't hear him as he asked. "What do I gotta do?"
But it wasn't Hardison's voice that answered him. "I want you to listen, I want you to obey, and then I want you to atone."
---
The bloody tang in his mouth was nearly enough to make him sick, but the truth was, Alec hadn't felt so settled in days.
They know. You warned them in time, it's all good..
What they were going to do with the information, though, he hadn't the first clue.
He crouched in the corner, wiping the blood from his nose, trying to tell if it was broken. It hurt like a bitch, but apparently now that he'd been subdued, Dog didn't seem to be overly concerned with watching him too closely. Rubbing a hand at his head, he managed to slip the earpiece in. He sat back, listening, and waited for the information to come.
---
Nate held open the door into the lobby, and once they gained distance on the bulk of the party guests, Eliot turned the speakerphone on, grimacing. "You forgot to tell me to come alone."
"I don't have to. Judging by what I'm seeing here, you'll be alone soon enough. You'll be interested to know that your pretty blonde friend has fled the premises."
Exchanging wary glances with Nate, Eliot sneered towards the camera, sure that Nicola would see it. "We're here. Where do we go now?"
"Turn left past the second bank of elevators and take the stairs. The basement door's open."
They started down the hallway, deliberately casual as three women came giggling out of the restroom on their right.
"Who are you?" Eliot tried, once they'd passed.
"The man holding a gun to your friend's head."
Next to Eliot, Nate shrugged, muttering a grim "at least we know it's not the doctor, then."
"What is all this about? Why are you doing this?"
"Trevor Hastings."
Eliot sought out Nate's equally confused face, but found him already opening up the program he'd pulled from his pocket. "The hospital?" What the hell does that have to do with anything?
"I don't understand. That name means nothing to me."
"Exactly. You never even stopped to look. Ran past his body, bleeding in the dirt, and carried on your way."
"It was war." They emerged from the stairwell into darkness, which was quickly remedied by virtue of the switch at Nate's elbow, revealing a long, doorless corridor that branched off some eighty feet down.
"There was war, yes. But it had ended, when your government decided to make deals with devils. Unofficially, of course, otherwise they would have sent soldiers. Not mercenaries, paid under the table. Take that hallway, down to the end, and turn right."
Eliot struck out an arm, stopping Nate before ducking his head around the corner, and poked his head around the corner to survey, as Nicola continued.
"We were rebuilding. My son, he was a part of that. Cleaning up after years of death and misery, trying to create something new. Not just a way to survive, but an actual future. When there was no money, he went to the bombed-out remains of what had once been a hospital and pulled apart the rubble for materials with his bare hands. You know what he was doing when you shot him in the back?
Eliot scowled, rolling his eyes despite himself. "Shooting at me?"
Concrete brick walls painted tan, and brown commercial carpeting did little against the cold blue green of the fluorescent tubes lining the corridor; it still seemed that there was more shadow than light. Down at the dark end, as promised, was the door he wanted.
"He was running wires through the cracks in the walls. So we could have power. Light. Hot water. And it wasn't finished yet, when he fell from the scaffolding due to yet another stray bullet. From your gun."
"What?" Eliot couldn't have heard right. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. The blood froze in his veins, though, warningly, and for the hundredth time, he tried to remember.
The press of bodies surging through the hot dusty square when the shots ring out. The yells of annoyed mothers calling after children quickly turning to scared cries as waves of people push together and apart, only scattering at the edges, nowhere near here.
Looking back over his shoulder to where the man he'd rescued not twenty minutes before lay dying and trampled. He would have been safer in the prison, but it's too late to worry about it now, the six guards behind him are closing in from the west end of the market, back where the first of them went down.
Spinning forward and shaking his distraction in time to see two more guns up ahead, dodging behind a market stall, sliding in bird shit and nearly going down. Over the half wall and out the back, but they've changed direction, too. They're taking aim but Eliot's faster this time.
Only he's not. He's squeezing the trigger, but there's a kid, must've been hiding right next to where Eliot's standing, and Eliot wouldn't ever have known if the kid hadn't elbowed past him as he wrestles his way back towards the alley. The shot goes wide. The kid runs faster when he hears the return fire, but it's not Eliot's problem. He missed, he has to keep moving.
In the next three minutes, another guard goes down dead, and he makes it to the edge of town, dodges behind the schoolhouse, and he's made it to the truck. He's gone.
It's the same thing he's remembered a hundred times. But he'd never thought about the shot that went off target.
Nate was waiting for answers, but Eliot had none. The vertigo was bad enough with his mouth shut.
Seven years later, and still adding to the body count.
---
It took everything Alec had not to react, not to call out, not to ask questions, not to respond to the small choked noise Eliot had made that broke his heart, because.
It wasn't the guards.
He'd blown it. Big time. His research hadn't gone anywhere near where it had needed to go. He'd managed to have the exact geographic location, but he'd been miles away.
It made a disgusting amount of sense, though.
They'd retrieved Kevin's belongings from the rude woman working the evidence lockup at the police station. Mama was upstairs in Nana's room, crying up another storm, but Alec was too numb to go deal with either of them. He wasn't her son anymore, not these days.
He sat in the kitchen, sliding the unwanted can of soda around on the table and listened to Mama's boyfriend spell it out for him. How there was no sympathy for the man who dies with a gun in his hand. How cops, soldiers, thugs all, at some point, made the choice to pick up a gun and throw down.
How if Kevin had died because of a bullet that wasn't intended for him, that bitch at the police station wouldn't have blown Mama off like she had. Whatever the combination of heroic, tragic, or criminal, the concern of strangers always ran harder for the innocent.
Alec nodded, wishing the smell of alcohol on Martin's breath wasn't so strong, wondering how soon he could retreat to his room, wishing that he'd take Mama and just leave, already.
Vengeance for those who died in the line of duty was the stuff of movies, probably. It wasn't as real, not like vengeance for family. His old neighborhood was evidence of that, and you could call it what you like, but it was real.
He should have seen this coming.
---
"I'm sorry he died," Eliot tried, and he was pretty sure he meant it.
"You don't understand," Nicola answered, because Eliot couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of calling him Edward yet. "He didn't."
Light shone through underneath the door, and the only reason he could see even this much was the last light in the hall was burned out entirely.
Or turned off He went still as he examined what he could. There was something, up in right corner that could have been part of the electrical system, but was probably a camera.
Doesn't matter. They know you're coming.
All he had to do was get there.
On the left side of the long hallway, down on the far end, was a set of utility doors that probably led out to loading docks or a workshop. Without Hardison on the line, there was no way to know which, and no way to know if they would provide a good exit. For all he knew it either went right out to the street, or a dead end full of broken and shelved HVAC equipment.
"Do you know what locked-in syndrome is? Do you know what it does to a family? His wife gave birth to their daughter three months after you destroyed his life, and what should have been the happiest day of their lives was an awkward introduction of mute strangers. My daughter in law would have starved, trying to feed her child and her husband with no income to speak of. But we look after our own. I made deals with devils, and learned to make better deals."
Eliot sighed. "I'm sorry, I really am. I was under orders and things got hot. I didn't even know until now."
If there wasn't Hardison to worry about, if there wasn't a building full of people who had nothing to do with this, he would've pointed out that Nicola could have been a hell of a less cryptic. It was strange to have a name to attach to the pictures he'd memorized, but he couldn't think about it right now.
A bulletin board hung empty at the halfway point, but beyond that, it was a straight shot, and the doors at the end would probably open into the hallway. Even if they didn't, as long as he kept to the right, he'd see the movement before they could see him.
It would give him enough time to duck into one of the three doorways, set back from the main corridor and spaced evenly, every fifteen feet. There was no way to tell if they were open or locked. Three blind spots which, once secured, could be useful for cover.
The right side of the hall was more interesting. A secondary hallway branched off about twenty feet ahead, and past that, three sets of doors, set back from the main corridor. Three zones to clear and secure, but they'd be useful for cover on the way out, should they need it. But they wouldn't be coming for him on the approach, anyway.
Nicola sighed heavily into the phone, it came through the speakerphone as a hiss of noise. "Of course you didn't. You destroy lives as if they were nothing, because to you, they are. You have no care, no heart. To you, your acts are just orders, and lives are the price of doing business."
"That's not true," Nate argued, Nicola laughed, and Eliot went still, ducking back from the hallway, out of sight of the cameras.
Nicola wasn't wrong, but Eliot wasn't going to let him know it.
"If you're right, then you'll allow him his penance." Nicola laughed. "You don't get it, do you? Tonight, everything? Funds for the final repairs? The hospital's to be named after my only son, once the renovations are complete, and the supplies brought in. And it's his home, and will be, until his time comes. And for all that, you've never met him. You stepped over his body and continued on your way, destroying four lives without a glance. You never. Even. Noticed."
"So what, you're going to kill him in return?" Nate growled, loud enough to be heard, apparently having forgotten everything Eliot had told him about hostage negotiations. "It's not going to make it right, and it's not going to fix anything."
Frustrated, Nicola's responding growl gave him the cover he needed, though, so maybe he'd been paying attention. "What d'you need?" Nate's tone was surprisingly calm, and though Eliot would never admit it, it was comforting.
He shook his head and gestured up the stairs, seeing for the first time what Nate had already noticed. They were standing in a blind spot, no cameras aimed in their direction. They were in the clear until they rounded the corner. "Keep watch. You see anyone coming through those doors, let me know." It wasn't everything he wanted, but it would have to do.
Nate bowed his head, producing two small objects from his pocket. Tracking devices, like the one they'd used to track Parker in Serbia. One for them to find, one to keep, Eliot realized, slipping one into his jeans, and the other into his mouth. The latter, he tongued into place between his molars and the inside of his cheek.
It was the first sign that Nate had tried to prepare, for any of this, that he'd seen.
Another moment, and he twisted, leading with his shoulder, and began his trek down the hallway, Nate following close behind.
"Hello Eliot, it's good to see you, again." Nicola's voice confirmed the camera's presence. He slowed his steps. "Here's how we're going to play it. Straight trade. When you reach the halfway point, I will release Alec Hardison. If either of you run for it, I will detonate the charges early."
That was the stupidest thing Eliot had ever heard. "Killing yourself in the process?"
"Of course not. I never stated that this building has been mined, did I? Please remember that I find such measures distasteful, and would prefer not to use them. Whether or not I get over my little aversion is entirely up to you."
"How do we know you won't just blow it up once you have him?"
"I have my honor, I'm sending your man out with a map to where both charges have been placed. With your numbers so horribly reduced, I doubt very much that you would be able to initiate a rescue mission and reach them both in time. I'm counting on you, Mister Ford, to make the right call. So, if you would please take your leave back towards the stairs, and Mister Spencer, if you would be so kind as to leave your gun on the floor and slide it a safe distance down the left hallway, we can begin."
Surprise covered Nate's offence half a second too late, but he winked at him, then. The barest hint of a headshake before his voice went cold. Follow my lead.
"You brought a gun?"
Eliot searched Nate's face, because if there was a lead he was trying to follow, it meant that maybe there was a plan. He drew the gun out from the sling and showed it to him.
"I can't believe this, you. You're endangering the entire team here, Eliot. You lied to us. Remember what you promised?"
Never promised anything. Eliot blinked, and then he finally got it. "This is different," he replied.
"No, this is the entire problem. What else have you been lying about, huh? The job in Kansas? Miami? Whatever, there's no time. We're done. Just do what he says. Try not to get a whole lot of people killed."
"Fine." Eliot reached down to place the gun on the floor, kicking it slowly back down the hallway.
Nate's eyes were telling him, though, that they weren't finished. Have to make it look good. He held off, for a second, pretending to realize something. "Hang on, You're in on it, aren't you?"
"What?" Nate's voice was almost a little too indignant, but it probably barely registered on the phone.
"You're working with him."
"No, Eliot, I'm just making sure nobody else gets killed," Nate argued, but his smirk told him he was on the right track.
"No, see, it's all making sense, now. The entire past few months. Kansas. Pittsburgh, you knew, you had to know." Telegraphing his movements, he brought his good arm up to shove Nate against the wall by the throat.
"You're the only liar, here," Nate said. "Already destroyed the team, so, what, you want more blood on your hands?"
"No!" Eliot floundered, because this was all hitting a little too close to home, too much to know how to react, but thankfully, Nicola had finally run out of patience.
"I'm still waiting, you know." By the smug tone in his voice, however, it was clear that he was enjoying the show. Nate used Eliot's distraction to wrestle him back a bit, maneuver his arm between them.
Eliot felt something cold and heavy being pressed against his chest, moving carefully into place, exactly where he'd been hiding the surrendered gun. Another second more, once it was settle securely, he shoved against Nate one last time and stepped away, too surprised for words.
Nate had been packing, too.
Brushing the arms of his suit coat, and sniffing snidely, Nate leaned towards him, speaking clearly enough to be heard on the phone.
"You brought this down on us, you're seeing this through. After tonight, you're done with us. Hardison doesn't get out of this alive, I'll destroy you myself."
He gave Eliot a long, intense look, and did the right thing, the one thing that Eliot couldn't deal with, not then.
He apologized, wished him luck with too many expressions crossing his face, turned, and walked away.
----
Alec wished he'd never picked up the earpiece.
He'd been wondering where Sophie and Parker were, because if this were any other job, Parker's security updates and the Sophie's ends of conversations could usually be heard.
Sometimes, they were just listening as carefully as he was, now. Waiting for their cues. But this was different.
Eliot thought Nate was involved, Nate thought Eliot deserved it, and by this point, Sophie, at least, should have been there to talk some sense back into both of them.
But Sophie was gone. Parker, too. at least she dropped the comms on the way out
He'd missed the splinter, and was still hearing the break, but now it was Halitosis' cough and Dog's grumbled "get your ass up" that he had to deal with.
He pushed himself up, using the wall for leverage as the room began to swim, just a little bit, and was surprised to take a step towards the door without a bullet meeting him halfway.
"Have a good day," Nicola grinned, which seemed a fucked thing to say when thrusting a map of bombs into someone's hand, but it wasn't like Alec had much by way of comparison. The door opened, and he was released into the hallway. He heard the guards moving behind them, guns still at the ready, and he was pretty sure one of them was focused on the back of his head.
He didn't turn to check. Wouldn't have, anyway, and not just because he didn't want to tempt fate. It was hard to see anything besides the anger in Eliot's eyes, staring down the guns as he approached.
"El," Alec started, not expecting him to register the sound, and definitely not ready for the glance he cut his way. Like he'd given up. Like this was goodbye.
"Keep going. Please don't blow this," he pleaded, and already, he was passing by.
But Alec knew better than to turn and watch him go.
---
Nate had apologized and wished him luck. There hadn't been a plan, after all. He'd just been evening the odds.
Whatever came next was up to him, and him alone. No backup. No plan.
No fucking chance.
Nate hadn't condoned it, but he hadn't condemned him. Eliot would have to handle that on his own.
He didn't hesitate in his steps, and he wasn't delaying. He was moving carefully, tactfully towards the man with the detonator, there was a difference.
Hardison was coming towards him, map in hand, bloodied and dirty and terrified, and trying to break out into a smile.
Alive and fucking gorgeous.
"El," he whispered in a dry voice as they drew near, one word standing for a thousand others, sounding huge, like it was coming from inside his head.
Or possibly his earpiece. One gigantically small word that could send everything going to hell.
He couldn't let it matter, not right now. Not anymore. Every step Hardison took, the closer he was to safety.
So when there was sudden drag to his step, as he threatened to slow, all Eliot could see was the explosion that would surely come next.
"Keep going. Please don't blow this."
Hardison's eyes flashed, sad and disappointed and afraid, but he listened, for once. Kept walking. If Alec was leaving him, or letting Eliot leave, it really didn't matter anymore, because there were only a few yards left to go before he was heading through the door, and already, he could see all three occupants of the room.
Two more steps, and he was choosing his first target.
Hardison had caught up with Nate, somewhere behind him, he could hear their voices on the phone, quick and stumbling over each other, but he can't tell if they're clearing the area, not without taking his eyes off the guns as he steps into the room, and coming to a horrible understanding.
If he screwed up, somewhere, a building would fall, trap someone inside with no access to water, food, air, or quick death.
He couldn't risk it, not yet, not with the phone in Nicola's hand, not with Hardison's voice in his ear, ordering Nate to catch him up.
He wanted to take the earpiece out, but it was just impulse, not instinct. He didn't want the others to hear this. It was fucked enough, on his end, already.
All he could hear, all he could understand, were the guns in his face and Hardison's voice in his head, fucking amazing and maybe the last thing he'd ever hear, and he was starting to think it was enough.
But then Nicola spoke, and ruined everything.
---
"You see my face now, and you see the resemblance. You also, by now, have ascertained that I care not whether you survive the evening." Nicola checked his watch. "But it appears that you shall, at least for a short time. I should return to the festivities, wonderful as this has been. I assume you're ready to transport him?"
"Yes." A third guard stepped in behind and around him, one hand holding a gun to Eliot's head, the other holding a small leather case. "You want us to take his earpiece?"
"No. His friends need to hear everything." Pulling on the suit coat he had folded over his arms, he continued, addressing the guard with the stained white shoes.
"I will meet you out there in a few hours. Don't cancel the countdown until he's in the van, and remember. If he's dead or gone before I arrive, remember, our deal's off."
The guards grunted their understanding. The larger of the two were smart enough to keep a careful distance, covering the third while he opened the case, withdrawing a hypodermic needle. Eliot didn't need to wonder what it contained.
He wished, for a moment, that the guard would take it upon himself to find some mouthwash, sometime this century, but the distraction was fleeting.
Clapping his hands together, Nicola snorted. "Well. While you engage in transporting our guest, I must go and make the last rounds, bestow more thanks upon our benefactors." He moved towards the door, and Eliot knew, like he always knew these things, that this was his chance was near.
Under the guise of crossing his arm, his finger brushed along the barrel of the gun. If he could just turn, slightly, away, he'd have it out in time to end this. End all of it. The life he didn't want to return to, and the one that he didn't want to leave. He dropped his gaze to the floor, surreptitiously glancing down at the gun, and thought about asking someone's forgiveness, but there was motion.
"I don't think you'll need to keep the appointment."
Linda King followed her gun into the room, looking much more confident than she had up on stage as she maintained her aim on the back of Nicola's head, but it was she that held the entirety of Eliot's attention. Nor was it the horrified expression freezing on Nicola's face.
It was Sophie, slipping into the room after her, sliding to the side, her gun trained on the man with the needle, who held that honor.
"Well this is just great," The guard with the leathery skin and bad hair grumbled, and part of Eliot, at least, had to agree with him.
"You want a payout, or you want to live?" Sophie was all icy calm and razorblades, talking like she hadn't just made everything a hundred times more complicated. "It's up to you. Set your guns down and slide them towards the door."
"And get your asses down on the floor," the blonde added, driving the muzzle into the back of Nicola's skull, following him down as he obeyed.
The third guard, though, the one with the ugly shoes, looked like he was thinking about fighting. It was as good a time as any for Eliot to draw his own gun. It felt belated and clumsy in his hand, but by the time it was out, it wasn't needed any more.
He wouldn't have to kill anyone.
He choked back a sob of relief, but that was all he allowed himself, because "Hello Eliot," Sophie was saying, sliding the third guard's gun into her purse. "I'm glad to see you're okay." Standing up, she turned her aim towards the disarmed guards again, allowing Linda to go rummage through her own purse for a handful of plastic zip strips.
"Uh, yeah." Computer drives, weapons, restraints? Seriously. Gotta start carrying a purse. "You too," he said, like he hadn't expected to be dead by now. "You wanna fill me in?"
"That will take some time, and I'd just assume have everyone in one place while we go over it." She gestured down to Linda. "In the meantime, I'd like you to meet Tara Cole."
"Hi," the woman said, grinning happily as she glanced up from the task at hand, like this was something she did every day, like she belonged there.
It wasn't until she had Nicola rolled to the side that Eliot realized that he'd been concealing a gun as well, but by then, it was too late to stop the blood from spattering the walls.
---
Chapter 18
As a consolation prize for letting me jerk you around so much, here's the first half of the soundtrack I compiled (attn flist: it's the same one I posted before):
Alec's Soundtrack (Download the .zip here.)
1. Hard-Fi- Unnecessary Trouble
2. The Flobots- Handle Bars
3. Tunng- The Pioneers
4. Kill Hannah- They Can't Save Us Now
5. Faultline- Where's My Boy
6. Snow Patrol- Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
7. Imogen Heap- Clear the Area
8. New Order- Turn My Way
9. Mew- Snow Brigade
10. Forward Russia- Thirteen
11. Terra Firma- Now's the Time
12- Pet Shop Boys- Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) (Okay, so it doesn't fit, but, come on. It totally works, and you know it. :D