Fic: Stone Cold Calm
Stone Cold Calm
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Nate/Eliot
Spoilers: Beantown Bailout Job 2.1
Warnings: Language
AN: Commentfic for deanangst
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His heart had stopped for a couple of seconds, Nate was sure of that. The look on Eliot's face had been pure betrayal as the first gunshot had ripped through his shirt, jerking him in a brutal way. The second two shots had sealed the deal, the last one pulling a strangled scream from him, more blood than seemed reasonable as he was thrown down onto the ground by the impacts.
Nate had a moment where he thought at least one of those bullets must have hit his own chest, the way it tightened and pain flared. He'd wanted nothing more in that moment to go and pick Eliot up off the floor where the impact had landed him, throw that chair aside and scream until help came. Or until they shot him too.
The shock, in that moment when he looked to Sophie and saw the gun in her hand, his own sense of betrayal, was thrown off the moment he heard that accent. She was in character. Of course. Of course. This is what they did, he'd forgotten. They were con men. He'd just been conned by his own crew, not on purpose, but out of necessity.
He reconstructed the con in his mind. Saw what Sophie was aiming for, pulled out his own phone as he reached for Eliot. Fuck, God, there was so much blood, on the ground and on his shirt and seeping from his mouth. There was a good con, and then there was... fuck, it was warm on his fingers as he moved to mock-pull the phone out of Eliot's pocket.
Nate made a point of not meeting Sophie's eyes as he carried out what he hoped was his intended role in the con. He wasn't sure he could look at her and not feel betrayed right now. Not picture that look in Eliot's eyes. Just a con, he reminded himself, just a con. He couldn't help but glance back at Eliot as Sophie took back over though. Just a look. Just to see if he was breathing. The pool of blood was widening, no movement in Eliot at all. God-damn, he'd forgotten how good they all were at this. He should never forget that.
As the mobsters all fled the scene he found himself staring down at the blood-not-blood on his hands. "Never..." he began, but Sophie shook her head once.
"Not yet." she muttered, and he could see her frowning at the blood on his hands. Good to know he wasn't the only one who'd been disturbed by the realism of this one.
Nodding, Nate stepped back over to Eliot, desperate to see some sign of life. To see blue eyes open and wink at him. But it seemed like Eliot had heard Sophie's words too, hideously still.
"Those were the state cops who questioned me." the mark declared, running back in. He'd never been so glad to close his part of the con, satisfied that whatever the others had planned, they would be closing the deal outside.
When he was glad the mark was finally clear, he breathed a sigh of relief. "So. How'd you do it?" he asked, rubbing absently at the red on his hands, drying to crusty black.
He looked at Sophie first, and when she met his eyes and frowned, they looked as one back at Eliot.
"Eliot?" he asked.
"Really, Eliot. I know you acted the hell out of that death-scene, but there's no need to rub it in." Sophie chastised. "And I think you over used the..." Sophie trailed off slightly. "What did you use? It's much better than ketchup."
Eliot didn't move. Eliot didn't respond. Nate was frozen in place. "Eliot?" he asked again, sounding like a stuck record.
"Nate?" Parker's voice over the comms. "What's with all the 'Eliot'?"
They were both in motion, pushing the chair aside, grasping Eliot's shoulders, rolling him onto his back. Too many hands reaching, Nate's on his neck, Sophie's on his wrist. Blood everywhere. Real honest-to-god blood. Still pumping, still flowing, still *alive*, but not for much longer as they struggled to put pressure on bleeding wounds.
"Oh, God." Sophie's desperate voice. "I shot him. They were blanks, Nate. But... I didn't check. I didn't check."
"Phone an ambulance, Sophie." Cold calm, rushing through Nate. Hard rationality. This is what made him good at what he did. "Just phone an ambulance."
With Parker and Hardison clamoring for attention in his ear and Sophie sobbing down the phone at the emergency services, Nate let that stone cold calm settle over him and felt his heart still.
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Nate/Eliot
Spoilers: Beantown Bailout Job 2.1
Warnings: Language
AN: Commentfic for deanangst
-
His heart had stopped for a couple of seconds, Nate was sure of that. The look on Eliot's face had been pure betrayal as the first gunshot had ripped through his shirt, jerking him in a brutal way. The second two shots had sealed the deal, the last one pulling a strangled scream from him, more blood than seemed reasonable as he was thrown down onto the ground by the impacts.
Nate had a moment where he thought at least one of those bullets must have hit his own chest, the way it tightened and pain flared. He'd wanted nothing more in that moment to go and pick Eliot up off the floor where the impact had landed him, throw that chair aside and scream until help came. Or until they shot him too.
The shock, in that moment when he looked to Sophie and saw the gun in her hand, his own sense of betrayal, was thrown off the moment he heard that accent. She was in character. Of course. Of course. This is what they did, he'd forgotten. They were con men. He'd just been conned by his own crew, not on purpose, but out of necessity.
He reconstructed the con in his mind. Saw what Sophie was aiming for, pulled out his own phone as he reached for Eliot. Fuck, God, there was so much blood, on the ground and on his shirt and seeping from his mouth. There was a good con, and then there was... fuck, it was warm on his fingers as he moved to mock-pull the phone out of Eliot's pocket.
Nate made a point of not meeting Sophie's eyes as he carried out what he hoped was his intended role in the con. He wasn't sure he could look at her and not feel betrayed right now. Not picture that look in Eliot's eyes. Just a con, he reminded himself, just a con. He couldn't help but glance back at Eliot as Sophie took back over though. Just a look. Just to see if he was breathing. The pool of blood was widening, no movement in Eliot at all. God-damn, he'd forgotten how good they all were at this. He should never forget that.
As the mobsters all fled the scene he found himself staring down at the blood-not-blood on his hands. "Never..." he began, but Sophie shook her head once.
"Not yet." she muttered, and he could see her frowning at the blood on his hands. Good to know he wasn't the only one who'd been disturbed by the realism of this one.
Nodding, Nate stepped back over to Eliot, desperate to see some sign of life. To see blue eyes open and wink at him. But it seemed like Eliot had heard Sophie's words too, hideously still.
"Those were the state cops who questioned me." the mark declared, running back in. He'd never been so glad to close his part of the con, satisfied that whatever the others had planned, they would be closing the deal outside.
When he was glad the mark was finally clear, he breathed a sigh of relief. "So. How'd you do it?" he asked, rubbing absently at the red on his hands, drying to crusty black.
He looked at Sophie first, and when she met his eyes and frowned, they looked as one back at Eliot.
"Eliot?" he asked.
"Really, Eliot. I know you acted the hell out of that death-scene, but there's no need to rub it in." Sophie chastised. "And I think you over used the..." Sophie trailed off slightly. "What did you use? It's much better than ketchup."
Eliot didn't move. Eliot didn't respond. Nate was frozen in place. "Eliot?" he asked again, sounding like a stuck record.
"Nate?" Parker's voice over the comms. "What's with all the 'Eliot'?"
They were both in motion, pushing the chair aside, grasping Eliot's shoulders, rolling him onto his back. Too many hands reaching, Nate's on his neck, Sophie's on his wrist. Blood everywhere. Real honest-to-god blood. Still pumping, still flowing, still *alive*, but not for much longer as they struggled to put pressure on bleeding wounds.
"Oh, God." Sophie's desperate voice. "I shot him. They were blanks, Nate. But... I didn't check. I didn't check."
"Phone an ambulance, Sophie." Cold calm, rushing through Nate. Hard rationality. This is what made him good at what he did. "Just phone an ambulance."
With Parker and Hardison clamoring for attention in his ear and Sophie sobbing down the phone at the emergency services, Nate let that stone cold calm settle over him and felt his heart still.