Sometimes it Helps
Title: Sometimes It Helps
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg
Genre: Hardison, Eliot, implied Nate/Eliot
Verse: BlackKing!WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: With everything he can't do sometimes Hardison is just glad he can help a little.
Notes: This is the second part of the "In The Shadow of a Gunman" arc, there might be a third or even a fourth part. Depends on if I get enough insperation to write "Sometimes Things Go Wrong" and/or "Sometimes They Lose" (which would be Eliot talking to Parker and Sophie respectivly and run somewhat parralel to The Way of the World). This story here of course follows Sometimes They Win.
This story has a strange history. It got it's insperation weeks ago when I read Meatball42's story Nightmares over on fanfic. There was a particular line that was begging for further recognition. Meatball42 and I ended up talking and she gave me permission (well, I think rather forceful orders to go forth and write count as permission) to use it in somthing. I ended up messing a little with the timeing (I have the conversation happen late season one, ignoring a couple comments about season 2 jobs). Although I highly recomend going and reading the story this can be read without it.
When Hardison was a kid one of his foster sisters taught him about the concept of a 2:30 conversation. According to her any conversation held after 2:30 in the morning but before sunrise was likely to be somewhat more emotional and revealing with a good deal less BS due to the parties involved being too tired to lie.
In retrospect he would have to find her and apologies for telling her she was full of it.
Cause really, it was two minutes past 2:30 in the morning when Hardison came back from a jog to a 24 hour convenience store for more Orange Soda and found Eliot standing statue still outside the door to his Hackers den.
“Eliot?” Hardison asked softly. The man looked like hell, his hair messy, barefoot and dressed in what was obviously the first thing he put his hands on. The air about him was the one he tended to get for awhile after a fight when he wasn’t positive there weren’t more bad guys hanging around. “You okay man.”
Eliot turned sharply toward him, reddened eyes scanning over him like he was checking him out or making sure he was okay. A joke about Hardison not being interested and really not wanting to get involved if he and Nate were fighting died on his lips.
Like he was making sure he was okay…
Memory of a time a year ago when Hardison had woken in the night from dreams that he’d let the team down and gotten them all killed surfaced in his mind.
Words he hadn’t marked then, too wrapped up in the horror of his own dream but… now he remembered as Eliot told him to look in on the other members of the team, showing himself they were fine, Eliot had said something. “Sometimes it helps”.
He swallowed and reached out, touching Eliot’s shoulder. “I’m fine man. Come inside. I got somthin’ that might help.”
Eliot seemed surprised for only a moment before wordlessly nodding and following him into his Hackers den.
Hardison sat at his desk, bringing the bunch of monitors back from standby. A few keystrokes brought up a map of Boston and a blinking mark in Sophie’s apartment building. “Sophie’s home.” Hardison said. “After we came back together Nate talked her into carrying a panic button. She presses it and no matter what’s going on whatever I’m doing blanks out and lets me know. I climb two flights of stairs and get you and Nate up and we figure out what to do.”
He didn’t say ‘she’s safe’ but he really hoped Eliot got that from what Hardison said.
Next Hardison pulled out his cell. “Nate’s got one to. Parker wouldn’t carry one but you know Parker. Anyone tryin’ to hurt her would have to catch her first. You ever had much luck with that.” He glanced over his shoulder. Eliot actually smiled at that.
Something in his stomach eased a little. “Want me to call her? She’s testing out a new rig and I convinced her to let me call once a test run to make sure she hadn’t fallen to her death or anything.” He didn’t wait for Eliot to answer before opening his cell and dialing Parker. “Hey Parker… Two floors too long? That’s not good… okay… nice… I’m glad you didn’t go smush too… uh huh… Par-… Parker! Not a good time. Eliot’s in the room with me and… no we are not having a three-way with Nate… that would be called a four-way Parker and tends to be generally frowned upon… Parker…” He turned to Eliot who looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, punch someone, or remark on Parker being wrong a bit more.
Hardison gave a long, slow, longsuffering sigh. It wasn’t his fault his… whatever Parker and him were these days… was just frikken strange. “She wants to talk to you.”
Eliot took the phone and even though Hardison couldn’t hear what Parker said he saw the reactions ghosting across Eliot’s face. Relief, annoyance, disturbance, and just a hint of the same indulgence he’d given Joey.
When he handed Hardison the phone back there was something else there. If Hardison had to place it it may have been something along the lines of a “hurt my little sister and I’ll show you how many painful ways I can make you die” look.
Well then.
Hardison said goodbye to Parker, closing the phone and sitting it down. Eliot was on his way out the door and Hardison wasn’t stopping him when Eliot paused. One hand on the doorframe, his face turned away from Hardison he spoke a question barely audible enough for Hardison to be sure it had been asked.
“Hey Hardison… when you were in the system… anyone hurt you?”
Hardison hesitated a moment. He knew he could say no. The others had a mental disconnect going that he’d spent his entire life in the system with Nana and that life before had been dandy. He could say no and let that continue and no one would call him on it. They’d believe him.
But if he told the truth, maybe...
“Yeah.” He said with a little shrug.
By the sharp draw of breath from Eliot that wasn’t the expected answer. Eliot turned toward him, eyes seeking, passing over him, a question on his face even though Hardison knew that Eliot wouldn’t ask.
“No. Never like that.” Hardison said. “Just got slapped around a couple times. Nothing serious or…”
The relief on Eliot’s face made Hardison’s heart hurt.
“Hey man, you uh, wanna talk about it? The dream I mean. Sometimes it helps.”
Eliot hesitated a moment, then let out a long slow breath, sitting down a nearby chair. “I was teachin’ that damn gym class…”
Like any good 2:30 conversation they would never really mention what they talked about after that, at least not until a week later when Eliot showed up at his door at three in the morning with a bottle of Orange Soda and embarrassed expression.
And maybe the dream Eliot described proved fuel for Hardison’s own Nightmares. Maybe he’d later dream about cold tile floors and Parkers corpse and Eliot being hurt in ways that made his chest tighten and stomach threaten to revolt.
But the day after that two in the morning conversation the bags that had slowly appearing under Eliot’s eyes had receded a little, the haunted look lessened slightly. Maybe it wasn’t much, except a sign Sophie’s reading people ability was rubbing off on him, but Hardison was pretty sure Eliot had managed to get through a night without nightmares.
And really, even if he hadn’t quite managed that himself Hardison thought maybe it was worth a few Nightmares to have Eliot start climbing out of the hell he’d been shoved back into.
With everything Eliot had been through and done for the team sometimes Hardison was just glad he could help.
Previous: Sometimes They Win
Next: Sometimes Things Go Wrong
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg
Genre: Hardison, Eliot, implied Nate/Eliot
Verse: BlackKing!WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: With everything he can't do sometimes Hardison is just glad he can help a little.
Notes: This is the second part of the "In The Shadow of a Gunman" arc, there might be a third or even a fourth part. Depends on if I get enough insperation to write "Sometimes Things Go Wrong" and/or "Sometimes They Lose" (which would be Eliot talking to Parker and Sophie respectivly and run somewhat parralel to The Way of the World). This story here of course follows Sometimes They Win.
This story has a strange history. It got it's insperation weeks ago when I read Meatball42's story Nightmares over on fanfic. There was a particular line that was begging for further recognition. Meatball42 and I ended up talking and she gave me permission (well, I think rather forceful orders to go forth and write count as permission) to use it in somthing. I ended up messing a little with the timeing (I have the conversation happen late season one, ignoring a couple comments about season 2 jobs). Although I highly recomend going and reading the story this can be read without it.
When Hardison was a kid one of his foster sisters taught him about the concept of a 2:30 conversation. According to her any conversation held after 2:30 in the morning but before sunrise was likely to be somewhat more emotional and revealing with a good deal less BS due to the parties involved being too tired to lie.
In retrospect he would have to find her and apologies for telling her she was full of it.
Cause really, it was two minutes past 2:30 in the morning when Hardison came back from a jog to a 24 hour convenience store for more Orange Soda and found Eliot standing statue still outside the door to his Hackers den.
“Eliot?” Hardison asked softly. The man looked like hell, his hair messy, barefoot and dressed in what was obviously the first thing he put his hands on. The air about him was the one he tended to get for awhile after a fight when he wasn’t positive there weren’t more bad guys hanging around. “You okay man.”
Eliot turned sharply toward him, reddened eyes scanning over him like he was checking him out or making sure he was okay. A joke about Hardison not being interested and really not wanting to get involved if he and Nate were fighting died on his lips.
Like he was making sure he was okay…
Memory of a time a year ago when Hardison had woken in the night from dreams that he’d let the team down and gotten them all killed surfaced in his mind.
Words he hadn’t marked then, too wrapped up in the horror of his own dream but… now he remembered as Eliot told him to look in on the other members of the team, showing himself they were fine, Eliot had said something. “Sometimes it helps”.
He swallowed and reached out, touching Eliot’s shoulder. “I’m fine man. Come inside. I got somthin’ that might help.”
Eliot seemed surprised for only a moment before wordlessly nodding and following him into his Hackers den.
Hardison sat at his desk, bringing the bunch of monitors back from standby. A few keystrokes brought up a map of Boston and a blinking mark in Sophie’s apartment building. “Sophie’s home.” Hardison said. “After we came back together Nate talked her into carrying a panic button. She presses it and no matter what’s going on whatever I’m doing blanks out and lets me know. I climb two flights of stairs and get you and Nate up and we figure out what to do.”
He didn’t say ‘she’s safe’ but he really hoped Eliot got that from what Hardison said.
Next Hardison pulled out his cell. “Nate’s got one to. Parker wouldn’t carry one but you know Parker. Anyone tryin’ to hurt her would have to catch her first. You ever had much luck with that.” He glanced over his shoulder. Eliot actually smiled at that.
Something in his stomach eased a little. “Want me to call her? She’s testing out a new rig and I convinced her to let me call once a test run to make sure she hadn’t fallen to her death or anything.” He didn’t wait for Eliot to answer before opening his cell and dialing Parker. “Hey Parker… Two floors too long? That’s not good… okay… nice… I’m glad you didn’t go smush too… uh huh… Par-… Parker! Not a good time. Eliot’s in the room with me and… no we are not having a three-way with Nate… that would be called a four-way Parker and tends to be generally frowned upon… Parker…” He turned to Eliot who looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, punch someone, or remark on Parker being wrong a bit more.
Hardison gave a long, slow, longsuffering sigh. It wasn’t his fault his… whatever Parker and him were these days… was just frikken strange. “She wants to talk to you.”
Eliot took the phone and even though Hardison couldn’t hear what Parker said he saw the reactions ghosting across Eliot’s face. Relief, annoyance, disturbance, and just a hint of the same indulgence he’d given Joey.
When he handed Hardison the phone back there was something else there. If Hardison had to place it it may have been something along the lines of a “hurt my little sister and I’ll show you how many painful ways I can make you die” look.
Well then.
Hardison said goodbye to Parker, closing the phone and sitting it down. Eliot was on his way out the door and Hardison wasn’t stopping him when Eliot paused. One hand on the doorframe, his face turned away from Hardison he spoke a question barely audible enough for Hardison to be sure it had been asked.
“Hey Hardison… when you were in the system… anyone hurt you?”
Hardison hesitated a moment. He knew he could say no. The others had a mental disconnect going that he’d spent his entire life in the system with Nana and that life before had been dandy. He could say no and let that continue and no one would call him on it. They’d believe him.
But if he told the truth, maybe...
“Yeah.” He said with a little shrug.
By the sharp draw of breath from Eliot that wasn’t the expected answer. Eliot turned toward him, eyes seeking, passing over him, a question on his face even though Hardison knew that Eliot wouldn’t ask.
“No. Never like that.” Hardison said. “Just got slapped around a couple times. Nothing serious or…”
The relief on Eliot’s face made Hardison’s heart hurt.
“Hey man, you uh, wanna talk about it? The dream I mean. Sometimes it helps.”
Eliot hesitated a moment, then let out a long slow breath, sitting down a nearby chair. “I was teachin’ that damn gym class…”
Like any good 2:30 conversation they would never really mention what they talked about after that, at least not until a week later when Eliot showed up at his door at three in the morning with a bottle of Orange Soda and embarrassed expression.
And maybe the dream Eliot described proved fuel for Hardison’s own Nightmares. Maybe he’d later dream about cold tile floors and Parkers corpse and Eliot being hurt in ways that made his chest tighten and stomach threaten to revolt.
But the day after that two in the morning conversation the bags that had slowly appearing under Eliot’s eyes had receded a little, the haunted look lessened slightly. Maybe it wasn’t much, except a sign Sophie’s reading people ability was rubbing off on him, but Hardison was pretty sure Eliot had managed to get through a night without nightmares.
And really, even if he hadn’t quite managed that himself Hardison thought maybe it was worth a few Nightmares to have Eliot start climbing out of the hell he’d been shoved back into.
With everything Eliot had been through and done for the team sometimes Hardison was just glad he could help.
Previous: Sometimes They Win
Next: Sometimes Things Go Wrong