Fic: The Moment I Said It
Fic: The Moment I Said It
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Spoilers: A string of episodes towards the end of season 2 not specifically spoilered but useful if you know that they happened! :D
Warnings: Suggestions of the history of Eliot's career
AN: Not a comment fic! WHOOT! I *can* think for myself. *sigh* So the concept behind this was linking Eliot's behaviour in The Zanzibar Market place to Sophie's comment/question back in The Runway Job. It centres around Nate's reinforcement that Eliot is a *retrieval specialist*, not a hitter as is all to often bandied about. Hopefully it works. It is maybe a bit too wordy on Eliot's behalf. Was originally Nate/Eliot, hence the Imogen Heap title, the modifier pre-quel is here
"'M thinking of movin' on." Eliot said, trying to make his voice soft and avoiding Nate's eyes. Nate stayed where he was, behind his desk, didn't stand, sit forwards, or even tense up. Just sat there with his serious face on. "Not right now," Eliot continued hastily. "I'll finish the job. Just... y'know, giving you notice."
"Would you like to tell me why?" he asked, and Eliot felt a little like a little child, misbehaving.
"There's some shit going down in Afganistan that I thought I might… hell, lots of shit…" Eliot sighed, turning defensive. "And it's not like you have me under contract or nothin'." Eliot looked down at his feet, kicking at the carpet, knowing subconsciously that the action looked petulant.
"After two years, this is just itchy feet?" Nate asked, voice still unerringly even.
"Hell, Nate. You don't need me any more. I've done myself out of a job. Parker's plenty good enough now to hold her own, and I'm lucky if I get a punch in when Tara's involved. She carries a gun, Nate. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." Eliot forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't going to shout about this.
"So." Nate mused, "That's what this is about?" his tone was amused, and Eliot felt himself tensing up at it.
He stepped forwards sharply, bringing himself up to Nate's desk. "I'm damn good at what I do, Nate." he said, pointing at his own chest, "What I ain't is a thug."
"We've never implied that was the case." Nate frowned, sitting forwards and steepling his fingers.
Eliot moved back a step, wrenching himself back under control. "You've introduced me as the team's hitter since we started this gig. I haven't been a hitter since I was a kid, Nate. It's been more'n a decade since I took anything less than retrieval. I play the role for you because it intimidates clients out of trying to take advantage and stops marks using force against us directly." he thought about that one. "Most of the time."
Nate just looked at him, expression clearly baffled. "Alright, so I've missed something here. Explain it to me."
"You have no idea, seriously, no idea what I do?" Eliot asked, exasperated. "After you spent nearly a year tracking me across the States? What the hell happened to 'I know what y'all are capable of'?"
Nate smiled wryly. "You realise I never did catch you. You let us have the merchandise."
"The client paid me to get the item. When he didn't like the heat on it, he paid me to get rid of it. You did me a favour and you got your job done." Eliot smiled and shrugged self-deprecatingly, like he'd done nothing evading Nate for all that time.
"Explain to me then, what you do." Nate asked, leaning back in his chair casually, expression still analytical.
"I don't pick locks or lie to people. I just walk in, and walk out. Sometimes I run. If I ask nicely, sometimes people don't even shoot at me. I'm there instead of the buyer so I get punched and they don't. I've moved drugs, guns, explosives, animals, people. I'm the guy who dissociates a client from a crime. The danger to me comes from the cops, the bounty hunters and the previous owners. I don't steal stuff, I just move it around until whoever's watching loses interest or runs out of money to chase me with, then I get it to where it's going." Eliot pushed his hair out of his face, avoiding Nate's eyes. "If something has heat on it already - a thief who's upped their price or bounty hunters, I'll go in over their usual goons. When they thing there's a chance of a trap or a deal going south, that's me too. When you got clever and stopped chasing me, started putting pressure on the guy who'd paid me, that's when the client got freaked." Eliot saw that Nate was going to comment and waved his hand to stop him. "I'm a very expensive stand-in, Nate. I look like a goon, I'm not stupid enough to damage or try and steal the merchandise, and if I die they don't have to pay my completion fee."
"People underestimate you." Nate nodded, understanding.
"Yeah, that's kind of the point." Eliot replied, rolling his eyes at the over-simplification. "But that's not the problem, Nate. Problem is that I did that to you back at the start, set you up so you underestimated me. I do it to everyone, don't even think about it any more. It's part of working on your own. But Soph said... She said 'You trust me', like she wasn't really sure, and I haven't been trusting you… Hell, Nate, at least Sophie told us she was conning us in the end. She even apologised for it, however shit that apology was."
Nate frowned deeper, holding Eliot's gaze and trying not to think about conversations the others might have had with Sophie. "You think of it as conning us? Making us underestimate you?" he asked.
Eliot shrugged dismissively. "You keep saying you know us, Nate. You use what you know we can do to plan your ridiculous plans. I've been stopping you from doing that. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"So what now?" Nate asked, knowing at least now why Eliot felt he had to leave. The way in which they had accidentally confined him, pigeon holed his working days.
"Now?" Eliot asked, looking around him, anywhere but Nate. "I'm bored of busting heads. I want to get back out there and do my thing. Rely on myself for a while and not go into every situation with a voice in my head dictating play."
"No." Nate contradicted him immediately. "Not yet. You have to give me a chance to straighten this out. Consider me re-educated in your line of work." Nate sat and studied him for a moment. "You are the second in command here, you do realise that, don't you? I've been treating Tara like Sophie, but you're the one I'd rely on to take over if something happened to me." Nate frowned, thinking through what needed to change. "I want you at the next client meeting. You have to be able to tell us what you can do for the game."
"Nate... Not that I don't appreciate it, but... I ain't that good at working at the head of a team. I do best followin' orders if there's orders to be followed." Eliot shrugged expressively. "'Sides... Tara kinda intimidates me."
"Well then, consider this *your* re-education. We want you to stay, Eliot. The team needs you to stay, we won't survive losing another one of our own. Take some control. Assert yourself."
"What if I do it wrong?" he asked quietly. "I mean, it's one thing screwing up myself, but when there's people on the line..."
"When there's people on the line you consider them merchandise." Nate grinned. "All you need to do is to get them back home safely."
Eliot nodded slowly. "I trust you."
Nate leant forwards, face stern. "Then let us trust you too."
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Spoilers: A string of episodes towards the end of season 2 not specifically spoilered but useful if you know that they happened! :D
Warnings: Suggestions of the history of Eliot's career
AN: Not a comment fic! WHOOT! I *can* think for myself. *sigh* So the concept behind this was linking Eliot's behaviour in The Zanzibar Market place to Sophie's comment/question back in The Runway Job. It centres around Nate's reinforcement that Eliot is a *retrieval specialist*, not a hitter as is all to often bandied about. Hopefully it works. It is maybe a bit too wordy on Eliot's behalf. Was originally Nate/Eliot, hence the Imogen Heap title, the modifier pre-quel is here
"'M thinking of movin' on." Eliot said, trying to make his voice soft and avoiding Nate's eyes. Nate stayed where he was, behind his desk, didn't stand, sit forwards, or even tense up. Just sat there with his serious face on. "Not right now," Eliot continued hastily. "I'll finish the job. Just... y'know, giving you notice."
"Would you like to tell me why?" he asked, and Eliot felt a little like a little child, misbehaving.
"There's some shit going down in Afganistan that I thought I might… hell, lots of shit…" Eliot sighed, turning defensive. "And it's not like you have me under contract or nothin'." Eliot looked down at his feet, kicking at the carpet, knowing subconsciously that the action looked petulant.
"After two years, this is just itchy feet?" Nate asked, voice still unerringly even.
"Hell, Nate. You don't need me any more. I've done myself out of a job. Parker's plenty good enough now to hold her own, and I'm lucky if I get a punch in when Tara's involved. She carries a gun, Nate. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." Eliot forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't going to shout about this.
"So." Nate mused, "That's what this is about?" his tone was amused, and Eliot felt himself tensing up at it.
He stepped forwards sharply, bringing himself up to Nate's desk. "I'm damn good at what I do, Nate." he said, pointing at his own chest, "What I ain't is a thug."
"We've never implied that was the case." Nate frowned, sitting forwards and steepling his fingers.
Eliot moved back a step, wrenching himself back under control. "You've introduced me as the team's hitter since we started this gig. I haven't been a hitter since I was a kid, Nate. It's been more'n a decade since I took anything less than retrieval. I play the role for you because it intimidates clients out of trying to take advantage and stops marks using force against us directly." he thought about that one. "Most of the time."
Nate just looked at him, expression clearly baffled. "Alright, so I've missed something here. Explain it to me."
"You have no idea, seriously, no idea what I do?" Eliot asked, exasperated. "After you spent nearly a year tracking me across the States? What the hell happened to 'I know what y'all are capable of'?"
Nate smiled wryly. "You realise I never did catch you. You let us have the merchandise."
"The client paid me to get the item. When he didn't like the heat on it, he paid me to get rid of it. You did me a favour and you got your job done." Eliot smiled and shrugged self-deprecatingly, like he'd done nothing evading Nate for all that time.
"Explain to me then, what you do." Nate asked, leaning back in his chair casually, expression still analytical.
"I don't pick locks or lie to people. I just walk in, and walk out. Sometimes I run. If I ask nicely, sometimes people don't even shoot at me. I'm there instead of the buyer so I get punched and they don't. I've moved drugs, guns, explosives, animals, people. I'm the guy who dissociates a client from a crime. The danger to me comes from the cops, the bounty hunters and the previous owners. I don't steal stuff, I just move it around until whoever's watching loses interest or runs out of money to chase me with, then I get it to where it's going." Eliot pushed his hair out of his face, avoiding Nate's eyes. "If something has heat on it already - a thief who's upped their price or bounty hunters, I'll go in over their usual goons. When they thing there's a chance of a trap or a deal going south, that's me too. When you got clever and stopped chasing me, started putting pressure on the guy who'd paid me, that's when the client got freaked." Eliot saw that Nate was going to comment and waved his hand to stop him. "I'm a very expensive stand-in, Nate. I look like a goon, I'm not stupid enough to damage or try and steal the merchandise, and if I die they don't have to pay my completion fee."
"People underestimate you." Nate nodded, understanding.
"Yeah, that's kind of the point." Eliot replied, rolling his eyes at the over-simplification. "But that's not the problem, Nate. Problem is that I did that to you back at the start, set you up so you underestimated me. I do it to everyone, don't even think about it any more. It's part of working on your own. But Soph said... She said 'You trust me', like she wasn't really sure, and I haven't been trusting you… Hell, Nate, at least Sophie told us she was conning us in the end. She even apologised for it, however shit that apology was."
Nate frowned deeper, holding Eliot's gaze and trying not to think about conversations the others might have had with Sophie. "You think of it as conning us? Making us underestimate you?" he asked.
Eliot shrugged dismissively. "You keep saying you know us, Nate. You use what you know we can do to plan your ridiculous plans. I've been stopping you from doing that. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"So what now?" Nate asked, knowing at least now why Eliot felt he had to leave. The way in which they had accidentally confined him, pigeon holed his working days.
"Now?" Eliot asked, looking around him, anywhere but Nate. "I'm bored of busting heads. I want to get back out there and do my thing. Rely on myself for a while and not go into every situation with a voice in my head dictating play."
"No." Nate contradicted him immediately. "Not yet. You have to give me a chance to straighten this out. Consider me re-educated in your line of work." Nate sat and studied him for a moment. "You are the second in command here, you do realise that, don't you? I've been treating Tara like Sophie, but you're the one I'd rely on to take over if something happened to me." Nate frowned, thinking through what needed to change. "I want you at the next client meeting. You have to be able to tell us what you can do for the game."
"Nate... Not that I don't appreciate it, but... I ain't that good at working at the head of a team. I do best followin' orders if there's orders to be followed." Eliot shrugged expressively. "'Sides... Tara kinda intimidates me."
"Well then, consider this *your* re-education. We want you to stay, Eliot. The team needs you to stay, we won't survive losing another one of our own. Take some control. Assert yourself."
"What if I do it wrong?" he asked quietly. "I mean, it's one thing screwing up myself, but when there's people on the line..."
"When there's people on the line you consider them merchandise." Nate grinned. "All you need to do is to get them back home safely."
Eliot nodded slowly. "I trust you."
Nate leant forwards, face stern. "Then let us trust you too."