The End of the Race
Title: The End of the Race
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nate and Eliot, gen
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: He's on the final lap.
Notes: For the Medications square on my H/c bingo card.
Takes place shortly before the Miracle Job.
The end of the race is getting closer. Nate knew it. He watched day by day as each mile marker was passed.
A year, Eliot had told him during the Leverage’s maiden voyage. That’s how much time Eliot was sure he had.
It was a long time. In just a fourth of that the ‘verse had changed for the agents.
But it was also so very short. That finish line looming close on the horizon.
They stood in the med ward in the middle of the night, because even if Hardison had some idea Eliot didn’t want anyone but Nate to know exactly how bad and how soon things were going to get.
Eliot was coy about it with the others but never with Nate. He had a year left still and when he went it would be quick.
Except Nate knew that was only half true. Eliot had lived a life of hardships and beatings where slowing down for a moment would get him killed. If Eliot wasn’t already starting to get sick Nate knew he would soon. He wouldn’t show it, he was too focused on Hardison and Parker and Dean and taking care of them.
Like a long distance runner with the end in sight and the knowledge that he can sprint the rest of the way and just make it to the finish line without slowing down.
Eliot was not a little boy. Not a child who could be so easily…
Nate told himself that he’d be ready when it happened. That it’s a small mercy that Eliot would hold himself together and die so quickly when he couldn’t anymore. That the team would be able to carry through after their hitter was gone.
At peace. Nate reminded himself. There was a difference between Eliot and…
Eliot was ready to die. He hadn’t lived a long life but Nate knew Eliot got his final wish. He got to live free.
And Nate knew the thing Eliot hadn’t breathed a word of to anyone, had tried to hide, that only Nate and Sophie had really figured out.
Like that long distance runner at the end of the race Eliot was tired. He was willing to give everything he had for that last stretch but a part of him was looking toward that finish line, counting the days until he could put aside meds and episodes and his breaking-down body and not have to run or crawl or be carried.
When he could just rest.
Eliot Spencer was ready to die.
Maybe one day that knowledge would comfort him.
“I’ll need a dozen of these,” Eliot said, handing Nate a small box that rattled with the few remaining doses. “Fourteen of the anti-psychotics. Twenty-eight Neruo-supressors.” Nate took the other boxes and jotted down the instructions. There’d been a surge of new medications into the black market over the past few weeks and Nate had managed to get a contact who could acquire the medications Eliot would need if they were going to do a job on a core planet.
And just in time for a call from Paul.
“Four doses of any class five pain med.” Eliot added a little too casual about how he wasn’t looking at Nate.
Most days Nate couldn’t find a lot of comfort outside of a bottle when it came to Eliot’s situation.
“Double the order if you can.” Eliot added, rearranging things in a shelf, occupying his hands. “But don’t get a third. No point wasting the crew’s money.”
He needed a drink.
“We might do more than two jobs on core worlds.”
Eliot gave him a look. “Nate. It takes two days for that stuff to start working right. Two weeks for it to get outa my system entirely.” He turned away. “Plus it aint good for me to jump on and off like that.”
He hesitated before saying. “I talked to my contact. The stuff we’re going after isn’t in highest demand. We might be able to get a six month supply. Longer, maybe. This is only half the cocktail you were on and one of the best thieves in the verse is on our crew. We can keep you on your meds as long as you need them.”
Eliot tensed, hands going flat against the shelf. He was quiet. The kind of quiet Nate was more used to from Hardison in the days when their hacker had been new aboard Leverage and was trying to override a lifetime of programing.
Nate did what he’d learned to do then. Stay quiet.
“I…” Eliot let out a breath. “Morning after that first job I wandered out onto the catwalks. Parker was doing her crazy on ‘em but… I could feel the rush of air. She wasn’t laughing but I could feel it in my gut. I just walked around Leverage for an hour. The hum of engines and burn of fire. The slip of silk as Sophie chose her dress an’ ran her fingers along the trim. The deep silence in The Impala, traces of a lifetime…”
Nate wanted to ask. He wasn’t sure what all that meant.
“For years my gift was this… if they got my meds wrong, if I started to reject them, if I was trying to do a Read and got interrupted I’d Drop.” Nate was quiet. He’d tried to read up on Readers but there was little more than rumor or gossip. Considering what he’d seen happen to Readers he reasoned the ones sane enough to describe their lives did their best to never be recognized for what they were. “Droppings like… you know the dreams where you’re falling? The ground just drops out and you can’t move to stop yourself and you’re not even really sure why you’re falling or if it’s real an’ you wake up shaking with the world comin’ at you and you have that half moment where you wonder if you’re gonna fall again. When a Reader Drops it’s like that, only more ‘n likely you do fall again. And again.”
He watched Eliot, careful to keep his emotions neutral. If Eliot felt something from him he interpreted as pity he’d clam up. Eliot explained himself, his life, for the same reason he would explain the obstacles of a job.
Eliot was quiet for a moment, lost in thought or memory, but shaking it off, his hands clenching the counter’s edge. “But that day, when the meds wore off and… It felt… In training sometimes we’d wear blindfolds, train by ear, by feel. After awhile you almost forget what it’s like to see. Somewhere between the meds and Dropping and years of surviving a curse I’d forgotten what it’s like. They call it a sixth sense for a reason Nate.” His hands unclenched, tension draining out of his body. “I know I’m causin’ problems bouncing on and off my meds. I know it’s not good for me but I’ve lived most of my life with a gift tied up in knots.” He turned to look Nate in the eyes finally. “Something in my head or here” He tapped his knuckles against his heart. “Wasn’t really free until the meds wore off and for the crew I’ll bind that part of me again, but I refuse to die like that.”
Eliot held his eyes, refusing to verbally ask permission even though Nate could see that something in him needed to be told that he was allowed that bit of selfishness.
Nearly five months ago Nate had heard Eliot tell Sophie his dying wish was to be free even for just a little while. Nate would make sure Eliot died as free as anyone could be in the verse.
“Alright, Eliot,” Nate stated.
Nate didn’t do touch and Eliot was pretty hands off but as Nate moved to walk past Eliot he put a hand on the Hitters shoulder.
“It’s alright.” He told Eliot trying to let the Reader feel his acknowledgement of what was coming. “It’s alright.”
Eliot’s eternally straight shoulders sagged just a little, relief. He’d understood Nate’s permission, absolution.
Nate let his hand drop and started for the door, wondering if maybe he’d made a mistake. He’d given Eliot permission to die.
“Hey Nate.” Eliot said behind him and Nate looked back to catch an echo of Eliot’s old grins. “I’ve still got a little while left and dying free don’t mean I’ll go without a fight.”
Nate’s grin mirrored Eliot’s. “I’ve never known you to do anything without one.”
He slipped out of the bridge and wandered up toward his room, a bottle calling his name.
And somewhere between then and the hangover the next morning he’d poke at and prod the conversation and the faint hint of something in Eliot’s eyes and he’d wonder for a brief moment if there wasn’t, maybe, a part of Eliot that wished his body could carry him through another lap.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nate and Eliot, gen
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: He's on the final lap.
Notes: For the Medications square on my H/c bingo card.
Takes place shortly before the Miracle Job.
The end of the race is getting closer. Nate knew it. He watched day by day as each mile marker was passed.
A year, Eliot had told him during the Leverage’s maiden voyage. That’s how much time Eliot was sure he had.
It was a long time. In just a fourth of that the ‘verse had changed for the agents.
But it was also so very short. That finish line looming close on the horizon.
They stood in the med ward in the middle of the night, because even if Hardison had some idea Eliot didn’t want anyone but Nate to know exactly how bad and how soon things were going to get.
Eliot was coy about it with the others but never with Nate. He had a year left still and when he went it would be quick.
Except Nate knew that was only half true. Eliot had lived a life of hardships and beatings where slowing down for a moment would get him killed. If Eliot wasn’t already starting to get sick Nate knew he would soon. He wouldn’t show it, he was too focused on Hardison and Parker and Dean and taking care of them.
Like a long distance runner with the end in sight and the knowledge that he can sprint the rest of the way and just make it to the finish line without slowing down.
Eliot was not a little boy. Not a child who could be so easily…
Nate told himself that he’d be ready when it happened. That it’s a small mercy that Eliot would hold himself together and die so quickly when he couldn’t anymore. That the team would be able to carry through after their hitter was gone.
At peace. Nate reminded himself. There was a difference between Eliot and…
Eliot was ready to die. He hadn’t lived a long life but Nate knew Eliot got his final wish. He got to live free.
And Nate knew the thing Eliot hadn’t breathed a word of to anyone, had tried to hide, that only Nate and Sophie had really figured out.
Like that long distance runner at the end of the race Eliot was tired. He was willing to give everything he had for that last stretch but a part of him was looking toward that finish line, counting the days until he could put aside meds and episodes and his breaking-down body and not have to run or crawl or be carried.
When he could just rest.
Eliot Spencer was ready to die.
Maybe one day that knowledge would comfort him.
“I’ll need a dozen of these,” Eliot said, handing Nate a small box that rattled with the few remaining doses. “Fourteen of the anti-psychotics. Twenty-eight Neruo-supressors.” Nate took the other boxes and jotted down the instructions. There’d been a surge of new medications into the black market over the past few weeks and Nate had managed to get a contact who could acquire the medications Eliot would need if they were going to do a job on a core planet.
And just in time for a call from Paul.
“Four doses of any class five pain med.” Eliot added a little too casual about how he wasn’t looking at Nate.
Most days Nate couldn’t find a lot of comfort outside of a bottle when it came to Eliot’s situation.
“Double the order if you can.” Eliot added, rearranging things in a shelf, occupying his hands. “But don’t get a third. No point wasting the crew’s money.”
He needed a drink.
“We might do more than two jobs on core worlds.”
Eliot gave him a look. “Nate. It takes two days for that stuff to start working right. Two weeks for it to get outa my system entirely.” He turned away. “Plus it aint good for me to jump on and off like that.”
He hesitated before saying. “I talked to my contact. The stuff we’re going after isn’t in highest demand. We might be able to get a six month supply. Longer, maybe. This is only half the cocktail you were on and one of the best thieves in the verse is on our crew. We can keep you on your meds as long as you need them.”
Eliot tensed, hands going flat against the shelf. He was quiet. The kind of quiet Nate was more used to from Hardison in the days when their hacker had been new aboard Leverage and was trying to override a lifetime of programing.
Nate did what he’d learned to do then. Stay quiet.
“I…” Eliot let out a breath. “Morning after that first job I wandered out onto the catwalks. Parker was doing her crazy on ‘em but… I could feel the rush of air. She wasn’t laughing but I could feel it in my gut. I just walked around Leverage for an hour. The hum of engines and burn of fire. The slip of silk as Sophie chose her dress an’ ran her fingers along the trim. The deep silence in The Impala, traces of a lifetime…”
Nate wanted to ask. He wasn’t sure what all that meant.
“For years my gift was this… if they got my meds wrong, if I started to reject them, if I was trying to do a Read and got interrupted I’d Drop.” Nate was quiet. He’d tried to read up on Readers but there was little more than rumor or gossip. Considering what he’d seen happen to Readers he reasoned the ones sane enough to describe their lives did their best to never be recognized for what they were. “Droppings like… you know the dreams where you’re falling? The ground just drops out and you can’t move to stop yourself and you’re not even really sure why you’re falling or if it’s real an’ you wake up shaking with the world comin’ at you and you have that half moment where you wonder if you’re gonna fall again. When a Reader Drops it’s like that, only more ‘n likely you do fall again. And again.”
He watched Eliot, careful to keep his emotions neutral. If Eliot felt something from him he interpreted as pity he’d clam up. Eliot explained himself, his life, for the same reason he would explain the obstacles of a job.
Eliot was quiet for a moment, lost in thought or memory, but shaking it off, his hands clenching the counter’s edge. “But that day, when the meds wore off and… It felt… In training sometimes we’d wear blindfolds, train by ear, by feel. After awhile you almost forget what it’s like to see. Somewhere between the meds and Dropping and years of surviving a curse I’d forgotten what it’s like. They call it a sixth sense for a reason Nate.” His hands unclenched, tension draining out of his body. “I know I’m causin’ problems bouncing on and off my meds. I know it’s not good for me but I’ve lived most of my life with a gift tied up in knots.” He turned to look Nate in the eyes finally. “Something in my head or here” He tapped his knuckles against his heart. “Wasn’t really free until the meds wore off and for the crew I’ll bind that part of me again, but I refuse to die like that.”
Eliot held his eyes, refusing to verbally ask permission even though Nate could see that something in him needed to be told that he was allowed that bit of selfishness.
Nearly five months ago Nate had heard Eliot tell Sophie his dying wish was to be free even for just a little while. Nate would make sure Eliot died as free as anyone could be in the verse.
“Alright, Eliot,” Nate stated.
Nate didn’t do touch and Eliot was pretty hands off but as Nate moved to walk past Eliot he put a hand on the Hitters shoulder.
“It’s alright.” He told Eliot trying to let the Reader feel his acknowledgement of what was coming. “It’s alright.”
Eliot’s eternally straight shoulders sagged just a little, relief. He’d understood Nate’s permission, absolution.
Nate let his hand drop and started for the door, wondering if maybe he’d made a mistake. He’d given Eliot permission to die.
“Hey Nate.” Eliot said behind him and Nate looked back to catch an echo of Eliot’s old grins. “I’ve still got a little while left and dying free don’t mean I’ll go without a fight.”
Nate’s grin mirrored Eliot’s. “I’ve never known you to do anything without one.”
He slipped out of the bridge and wandered up toward his room, a bottle calling his name.
And somewhere between then and the hangover the next morning he’d poke at and prod the conversation and the faint hint of something in Eliot’s eyes and he’d wonder for a brief moment if there wasn’t, maybe, a part of Eliot that wished his body could carry him through another lap.