Fic: Old Friend Of Mine
Fic: Old Friend Of Mine
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Moreau
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Spoilers: The Big Bang Job/San Lorenzo Job
Warnings: Violence, angst
Notes: Failed commentfic (because I wrote down a shorthand version of the prompt - Eliot goes back to Moreau - and then answered the shorter version, not the original...) for sheryden. Written for the leverageland minibang.
-
In all the long hours that made up longer days and weeks and months of the three years that Damien Moreau had been a guest in the San Lorenzo tombs, he had never imagined this moment in his future. Not in his wildest fantasies.
Eliot - his Eliot, whom he thought lost to him forever - snuffled uneasily into his protective shoulder, the nightmares coming already despite less than an hour's sleep.
Damien had given up falling asleep with the man in his arms, better to watch over him while he caught a brief respite and wake him before the nightmares could, catching his own sleep after Eliot had left to spend the rest of the night working obsessively on the computers, searching ceaselessly for clues.
Eliot whispered a first 'no' even as he started to thrash against invisible restraints, and Damien took him by the shoulder and moved to sit them both upright in the bed. Talking gently in his ear, soft Croatian in a hope to separate his words from the ones already screaming in Eliot's head, he roused him.
Eliot was hard to wake tonight. The exhaustion of the last six months had long caught up with him and now was destroying the man from the inside out. He was perpetually lethargic, irritable, distant. He was pale and ever more thin.
Eliot woke finally, and with a scream. He tore himself from Damien's grasp - tipping from he bed onto his hands and knees and then bolting moments later for the toilet to throw up the day's meal. This wasn't new, so Damien let it happen without reacting. Eliot's hair wasn't long enough to need holding back anymore; another part of himself surrendered in payment to the beast that lashed its whip across Eliot's back. To be faster, more efficient, more deadly. He didn't hide behind his hair anymore, didn't need the disguise. No one crossed him and lived.
"Will you come back to bed?" Moreau asked as Eliot washed out his mouth.
"Maybe later" he lied in return, and headed out the door, towards the information tech building across the camp.
-
Eliot had freed Damien - had retrieved him from the tombs under the noses of the very people he had helped to put him there - because he needed guidance, he needed leadership, and regardless of anything else Moreau had been, he was the best leader he'd ever worked under.
He had made his goals clear, if not what would happen after they were complete, and Moreau had promised that he would use everything he had to help see them achieved. Eliot had trusted Moreau once, and with everything else lost it came so easy to him to trust again. They worked together, just the two of them, and Moreau's influence and contacts started to prove his worth almost immediately. Eliot had never intended to fall back into Moreau's bed, but once he had he hadn't resisted it. He needed this too. This feeling of contact, of connection with another human being. He needed all of this, and Moreau was helping him.
After three months they hit a wall with their intel, money started to run out, and Moreau cautiously suggested that they do a handful of side-jobs, just to get the money coming back in again. Turned out Eliot needed that too. Something to do that wasn't sub standard hacking, intimidation and running around the world chasing shadows. He needed a reason to keep moving, and the work Moreau started handing him gave him that. He couldn't remember when they started hiring people in. When their hideout became an encampment, when he started carrying an arsenal and went back to being known as Moreau's right hand man.
He wasn't sleeping - could he blame his confusion on that? He wasn't sleeping and it felt like he hadn't slept in years. He wasn't sure how he was still functioning, only keeping down food every few days, only remembering to eat when someone shoved food in his direction. He was powered by the nuclear core of rage in his stomach.
He was falling apart. Moreau was holding him together.
-
"Eliot? Eliot, please wake up." Parker sounds scared. Sophie is crying in the distance, and Nate is trying to reason with the man in the doorway - black suit, bulge of a gun at his hip. Eliot can only open one eye, the other is swollen shut.
His vision is spinning in that one eye anyway, which doesn't help him make sense of the way Hardison is staring at him, all glassy-eyed.
"Keep your attack dog down, Ford. Or another one dies." There's three armed men in the room - something big and high powered. He should recognise it, but he's nauseous and bleeding and his mouth feels full of cotton wool. There's blood dripping from the butt of one of the guns and Eliot thinks it might be his. No one's shot him yet though. Big fucking mistake.
His head's still spinning when some kind of timer goes off and Eliot blacks out again as the retort of the shots rattle his brain in his skull.
Nate's voice is odd when he returns to consciousness again, but there's a tinny ringing in his ears so he can't understand the words. Sophie's gone quiet - holding on to Hardison, her face pressed against his chest where they're crumpled together on the ground. Parker's very still, eyes fixed on the two of them. Maybe she's worried Sophie's gonna steal her man.
Eliot wasn't sure he could move. Maybe they had shot him. Maybe Nate's tone means 'get the fuck over here, Eliot'. The man in the doorway pulls his gun, but Eliot couldn't move.
He manages 'no' before the world falls away as quickly as the flash and Nate's short fall to the ground. "Eliot, molim vas, probudite."
-
It had been eighteen months, but it didn't matter really how long it had been. Eliot was coming for the ones who took his team away from him. Took his family. What ever it took. Whatever allegiances he had to make to do what needed to be done... One day he would find them.
And no one would be able to protect them when that day came.
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Moreau
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Spoilers: The Big Bang Job/San Lorenzo Job
Warnings: Violence, angst
Notes: Failed commentfic (because I wrote down a shorthand version of the prompt - Eliot goes back to Moreau - and then answered the shorter version, not the original...) for sheryden. Written for the leverageland minibang.
-
In all the long hours that made up longer days and weeks and months of the three years that Damien Moreau had been a guest in the San Lorenzo tombs, he had never imagined this moment in his future. Not in his wildest fantasies.
Eliot - his Eliot, whom he thought lost to him forever - snuffled uneasily into his protective shoulder, the nightmares coming already despite less than an hour's sleep.
Damien had given up falling asleep with the man in his arms, better to watch over him while he caught a brief respite and wake him before the nightmares could, catching his own sleep after Eliot had left to spend the rest of the night working obsessively on the computers, searching ceaselessly for clues.
Eliot whispered a first 'no' even as he started to thrash against invisible restraints, and Damien took him by the shoulder and moved to sit them both upright in the bed. Talking gently in his ear, soft Croatian in a hope to separate his words from the ones already screaming in Eliot's head, he roused him.
Eliot was hard to wake tonight. The exhaustion of the last six months had long caught up with him and now was destroying the man from the inside out. He was perpetually lethargic, irritable, distant. He was pale and ever more thin.
Eliot woke finally, and with a scream. He tore himself from Damien's grasp - tipping from he bed onto his hands and knees and then bolting moments later for the toilet to throw up the day's meal. This wasn't new, so Damien let it happen without reacting. Eliot's hair wasn't long enough to need holding back anymore; another part of himself surrendered in payment to the beast that lashed its whip across Eliot's back. To be faster, more efficient, more deadly. He didn't hide behind his hair anymore, didn't need the disguise. No one crossed him and lived.
"Will you come back to bed?" Moreau asked as Eliot washed out his mouth.
"Maybe later" he lied in return, and headed out the door, towards the information tech building across the camp.
-
Eliot had freed Damien - had retrieved him from the tombs under the noses of the very people he had helped to put him there - because he needed guidance, he needed leadership, and regardless of anything else Moreau had been, he was the best leader he'd ever worked under.
He had made his goals clear, if not what would happen after they were complete, and Moreau had promised that he would use everything he had to help see them achieved. Eliot had trusted Moreau once, and with everything else lost it came so easy to him to trust again. They worked together, just the two of them, and Moreau's influence and contacts started to prove his worth almost immediately. Eliot had never intended to fall back into Moreau's bed, but once he had he hadn't resisted it. He needed this too. This feeling of contact, of connection with another human being. He needed all of this, and Moreau was helping him.
After three months they hit a wall with their intel, money started to run out, and Moreau cautiously suggested that they do a handful of side-jobs, just to get the money coming back in again. Turned out Eliot needed that too. Something to do that wasn't sub standard hacking, intimidation and running around the world chasing shadows. He needed a reason to keep moving, and the work Moreau started handing him gave him that. He couldn't remember when they started hiring people in. When their hideout became an encampment, when he started carrying an arsenal and went back to being known as Moreau's right hand man.
He wasn't sleeping - could he blame his confusion on that? He wasn't sleeping and it felt like he hadn't slept in years. He wasn't sure how he was still functioning, only keeping down food every few days, only remembering to eat when someone shoved food in his direction. He was powered by the nuclear core of rage in his stomach.
He was falling apart. Moreau was holding him together.
-
"Eliot? Eliot, please wake up." Parker sounds scared. Sophie is crying in the distance, and Nate is trying to reason with the man in the doorway - black suit, bulge of a gun at his hip. Eliot can only open one eye, the other is swollen shut.
His vision is spinning in that one eye anyway, which doesn't help him make sense of the way Hardison is staring at him, all glassy-eyed.
"Keep your attack dog down, Ford. Or another one dies." There's three armed men in the room - something big and high powered. He should recognise it, but he's nauseous and bleeding and his mouth feels full of cotton wool. There's blood dripping from the butt of one of the guns and Eliot thinks it might be his. No one's shot him yet though. Big fucking mistake.
His head's still spinning when some kind of timer goes off and Eliot blacks out again as the retort of the shots rattle his brain in his skull.
Nate's voice is odd when he returns to consciousness again, but there's a tinny ringing in his ears so he can't understand the words. Sophie's gone quiet - holding on to Hardison, her face pressed against his chest where they're crumpled together on the ground. Parker's very still, eyes fixed on the two of them. Maybe she's worried Sophie's gonna steal her man.
Eliot wasn't sure he could move. Maybe they had shot him. Maybe Nate's tone means 'get the fuck over here, Eliot'. The man in the doorway pulls his gun, but Eliot couldn't move.
He manages 'no' before the world falls away as quickly as the flash and Nate's short fall to the ground. "Eliot, molim vas, probudite."
-
It had been eighteen months, but it didn't matter really how long it had been. Eliot was coming for the ones who took his team away from him. Took his family. What ever it took. Whatever allegiances he had to make to do what needed to be done... One day he would find them.
And no one would be able to protect them when that day came.