Eliot Spencer: Badass Woobie
For Leverageland Heist 12: Challenge 01
1. Picspam
2. Meta - Eliot Spencer: Badass Woobie
Eliot Spencer is the ultimate badass, but he's got enough of a touch of woobie that he trips my woobie-loving trigger all the time. I'm constantly blindsided with the desire to see someone gather him up and just hold on until his wall breaks and he sobs out years of disillusionment and pain. I love Eliot because of his need to protect and to nurture (as evidenced by his need to feed his team). I love him because he's able to back up that need to protect with real action, and I love that-when it's really necessary-he reaches into himself and gives up his gentle side: Randy from "The Order 23 Job" and Molly from "The Carnival Job" are the best examples that come to mind. I love Eliot because that starry-eyed boy with the flag on his sleeve still exists within him, albeit coated with the thick black tar of reality. Despite his affinity with Oscar the Grouch and all the green monster stands for, there's a light that burns bright inside Eliot. Even with all my love, though, I have to say his temper bugs me sometimes, but it's such an obvious product of self-preservation that seeing him grumpy and snappy takes me right back to that desire to see someone break him down, but only so they can build him right back up.
3. Eliot's Future
It's hard to consider what life might be like for Eliot Spencer in the future because none of the team members are easy to predict, and his life is inextricably tied to protecting theirs "until [his] dying day" (Eliot to Sophie in "The Long Goodbye Job"). Are Parker and Hardison the type to feel the pressure of a biological clock and eventually need to step down for the protection of their children? What will that mean for Leverage International? I believe that, eventually, the original crew will bring in new people as they meet kindred souls who have the skills and the desire to right the worlds' wrongs one person at a time.
Eliot will be there to keep them moving forward in the field, perhaps to take point if Parker and Hardison choose desk jobs because they have a family. As things settle down in real time for the original other four, Eliot may reach a point where he feels he's redeemed himself enough to take another chance on love. It will likely blindside him. She'll be strong and capable in whatever way she excels-it doesn't really matter what she does as long as her heart and energy is in it but it feels like it will be a helping profession. He'll balk at first, until he finds out that they can move in and out of each other's lives with little and she is truly okay with that.
He'll be grumpy Uncle Eliot to the children that are born and grow around him and, someday, maybe, he'll become a father himself but it'll be a very tough decision for him. There will always be a part of him held in reserve and he'll worry that he'll fail his son when it comes to letting him know he's loved.
Eliot has healed a great deal, and he can heal more. But there will always be pieces missing. In time I believe he'll come to peace with that, and find a way to stop sleeping with one eye open.
4. Icons x 5 - Eliot's softer side ... in a matter of speaking...
5. Eliot's Ten Best Canon Moments (In No Particular Order)
Eliot's confession to the team that he'd once been Moreau's henchman was a defining moment for both him and the team.
The shoot-out in which he eradicated Moreau's hit squad showed how far he'd go for his chosen family... and how easily he could still access the killer.
The first time Eliot shows his badass (in the pilot), a.k.a. "That's what I do."
The moment that Eliot puts fear into the eyes of the interrogator in "The Experimental Job".
Coming back from a fight with a frickin' carnival ride! (And going on to save Molly.)
Picking up on Randy's plight and ultimately taking care of him via the locals in "The Order 23 Job".
His willingness to kill in order to save Nate from himself in "The Last Dam Job".
Taking bullets for the good of mankind in "The Rundown Job".
Running the con after Nate is captured in "The Zanzibar Marketplace Job".
Admitting his need for family and promising his loyalty to the team "until his dying day" in "The Long Goodbye Job".
6. Fanmix - Eliot Spencer: Coming Storm Cover Art (front and back) + MP3 Zip
(Click art for link to MP3 zip.)
7. Fanmix: Lyrics
(Click spoiler tag for lyrics.)
[''Rooster'' by Alice in Chains]
"Rooster"
Written by Jerry Cantrell
Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere
Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah [2x]
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no, ya know he ain't gonna die
Walkin' tall machine gun man
They spit on me in my home land
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy
Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death
My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath
Oh god please won't you help me make it through
Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no ya know he ain't gonna die
[''Veterans of the Psychic Wars'' by Blue Oyster Cult]
"Veterans of the Psychic Wars"
Written by Eric Bloom and Michael Moorcock
You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
I've been living on the edge so long, where the winds of limbo roar
And I'm young enough to look at, and far too old to see
All the scars are on the inside
I'm not sure that there's anything left of me
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
You ask me why I'm weary, why I can't speak to you
You blame me for my silence, say it's time I changed and grew
But the war's still going on, dear, and there's nowhen that I know
And I can't stand forever
I can't say if we're ever gonna be free
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
My energy is spent at last, and my armor is destroyed
I have used up all my weapons, and I'm helpless and bereaved
Wounds are all I'm made of
Did I hear you say that this is victory?
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
Send me to the rear
Where the tides of madness swell
And men sliding into hell
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
[''Black Hole Sun'' by Soundgarden]
"Black Hole Sun"
Written by Chris Cornell
In my eyes
Indisposed
In disguise
As no one knows
Hides the face
Lies the snake
The sun
In my disgrace
Boiling heat
Summer stench
'Neath the black
The sky looks dead
Call my name
Through the cream
And I'll hear you
Scream again
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind
Tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
And sometimes
Far too long
For snakes
In my shoes
A walking sleep
And my youth
I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings
Like you
Anymore
Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just
Disappear
[''The Good Left Undone'' by Rise Against]
The Good Left Undone
Written by Tim McIlrath
In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding there what I'd been missing,
But I know...
So I tell myself, I tell myself it's wrong.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it could live. I walked away now.
But I know...
Not a day goes by that I don't feel this burn.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you...
All because of you...
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
[''Dear God'' by Avenged Sevenfold]
Dear God
Written by Synyster Gates, Johnny Christ and M. Shadows
A lonely road, crossed another cold state line
Miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find
While I recall all the words you spoke to me
Can't help but wish that I was there
Back where I'd love to be, oh yeah
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need that person who can be true to you
But I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
There's nothing here for me, on this barren road
There's no one here while the city sleeps
And all the shops are closed
Can't help but think of the times I've had with you
Pictures and some memories will have to help me through, oh yeah
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need that person who can be true to you
I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
Some search, never finding a way
Before long, they waste away
I found you, something told me to stay
I gave in, to selfish ways
And how I miss someone to hold
When hope begins to fade...
A lonely road, crossed another cold state line
Miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need the person who can be true to you
I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
8. (Fic: The Guy Who Came in from the Cold)
Crossover: Leverage/The Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Eliot Spencer
Word count: 619
Warnings: Language
Eliot was awake long before he moved. Long before his breathing changed. Long before he even considered opening his eyes. He lay still, keeping the tension from his body with practiced effort and sheer will, his muscles loose but ready as he listened in the preternatural stillness of the room. Something had triggered the alertness that was much a part of him as the beating of his heart or his growl. Someone. To anyone watching, even the most observant, it appeared he was still asleep on the double bed-size bunk built into the wall, open only at the front. Not even when he finally moved to curl his fingers around the hilt of his knife was it obvious, the pillow hiding his actions.
When he moved, it was a blur of motion, his body launching in the air, using the lip of the niche that was his bedroom to dive into the middle of the room and come up in a combatant's crouch. The glint of moonlight off of the steel blade in his hand was a grim reminder to whoever had made it in through his defenses that he wasn't an easy target.
Turning in a circle, still low to the ground, he finally found the man hiding all too well in the shadows near the door. He'd have to do something about that when this was over.
Eliot's breath leaked out in a slow, measured exhale. He stood and shook his head, flipping the Ka-Bar in his hand before throwing it without looking at the scarred practice board he'd mounted when he'd moved into the old industrial loft. "That's a good way to get yourself hurt real bad," he finally said, padding over to his refrigerator for two bottles of the first craft beer Hardison and Parker had gotten right.
Barton smiled lightly, but he didn't say anything. "I've been watching you through the skylight for an hour. You're slipping." He settled into one of the two overstuffed chairs in what passed for a sitting area. "Look at you. Furniture. You're getting damn right domestic."
"Fuck you," Eliot answered, no heat in the obscene directive.
"You first," Barton answered, still smiling, clinking his bottle with Eliot's and settling deeper into the chair.
"I'm not available," Eliot said simply, cutting off any recruiting talk at the knees.
"We know. I think Fury's actually given up on you."
"Good."
"I haven't given up on you."
"You should," Eliot says quietly, staring at the sweating bottle in his hand. "How's Natasha?"
"Ouch."
Eliot slanted a glance his way and shrugged. "Call 'em like I see 'em."
"She's not you. Never was. Never will be."
Eliot let that sit in the air around them for a bit. "Why did you come?"
"Got tired of being alone in a crowd."
"Bullshit." Eliot's tone is harsh and short. He doesn't have time for lies. "You live for that shit. You've always liked to watch from above. From apart. You're worse than Parker."
The room is quiet again. Pregnant with silent regret.
"That was before I finally found out what it was like not to be alone."
The quiet confession had Eliot closing his eyes, heat curling in his belly in remembrance.
"Time to come in from the cold," Barton added softly.
Getting up, Eliot set his bottle down, his movements slow and deliberate. The hand he held out, palm down, trembled slightly as Barton took it. Maybe it was time for both of them to get warm.
9. (Fic: Eliot Spencer Gets a Puppy)
Word count: 826
Warnings: None
There's a reason for every choice that Eliot Spencer makes about the way he lives. A reason he always buys and renovates a house on at least five acres, his nearest neighbors more than a gunshot-range distance away. A reason that his property is subtly rigged with tells: from conventional alarms to much harder to read evidence that someone or something has invaded his space. There's no gate in his fence. No driveway. And the barricade around the boundary of his property is far enough off the road and covered with enough greenery that it's not easily recognizable as chain link.
There's a reason his houses are built (or reinforced) with double walls of brick sandwiching solid hardwood between them. That his "bedroom" consists of a shelf in one of those walls, the floor and roof just as secure as the three walls around it. The mattress just fits, no extra space, but there are a couple of cubbies built into one of those walls that hold his favorite knife, his phone, wallet, and keys to his truck and the storage unit under three different shell companies that holds his bug-out kit.
There's a reason that he lives off the grid, his generator in a tamper-proof bunker under the dirt, the wires that keep him in power when he needs it protected by layers of concrete.
There's a reason.
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. Especially when some of those "theys" are the most dangerous killers in the world.
Normally he's happy to be there by himself. It's good to get away from the team: the nonsensical patter from Parker and the non-stop geek "top this" chatter from Hardison, Sophie's not-so-subtle manipulation and Nate's quiet domination or foul temper, depending on the day. He likes getting outside in his garden to nurture his sun-nourished plants as much as he relishes spending time in the dark, quiet underground hydroponic back up vegetable supply and fish hatchery accessible from a tunnel in his basement.
But even Eliot Spencer will tell you that sometimes he gets lonely.
Tonight was one of those nights, and he wandered out to flop down onto his outdoor loveseat, the crackling of the fire pit and chirping of the crickets joining with the mid-fall breeze to try to lull him into as deep a sense of peace as he ever finds.
He stopped the lift of the bottle halfway to his lips when he heard the first soft whimper. His brows came together, and he went into that preternaturally still place, his senses firing on all cylinders.
There. He heard it again, off to his left about nine o'clock. A soft sound. A miserable sound. His protective instincts recognized an animal in pain, and he quickly stripped off his flannel shirt and stood up, stalking the small package huddled in the grass.
He caught it quickly but infinitely gently, wrapping the trembling, way too thin pup-clearly a mix of several breeds with fuzzy fur and non-descript markings-in his shirt to protect both of them. He needn't have bothered. The pup didn't have the energy to do little more than thunk its exhausted head against Eliot's chest.
It was a long night. After checking the tiny, pitiful mass of fleas and mud for more grievous injuries, broken teeth and signs of abdominal stress, Eliot whispered sweet nothings to the little furry fighter as he subjected him to the frightening indignity of a warm, soapy sink bath.
The teeth that caught his finger at one point spoke to the food Eliot would work on getting into the small beast. Past the Pablum stage, he pureed some vegetables and meat into a paste, started a hydrating IV and settled into a chair by the fire. The next few hours would make a big difference. Success or failure, the pup wouldn't be alone.
Eighteen hours and three tiny meals later, a warm, wet assault against Eliot's shirt actually made him smile. "There you go," he encouraged, shifting the quilt he'd been covered with away from his lap to protect it while the puppy finished.
Another patient trip to the bathroom to clean them both, Eliot settled the mutt on the kitchen counter in a ray of light from the window while he worked on more of the nourishing, mineral and fat rich food. The puppy was starting to show signs of curiosity. "Don't go walking off the edge, there, Sundance."
Eliot frowned at himself but only for a moment. He chuckled when he realized the name fit and he was all right with it, but he jerked himself up short. "Don't get comfortable here. I'm just getting you healthy and then it's off to a real home."
The puppy yawned, clearly not concerned. Eliot glanced over again, hesitating, watching. And he finally smiled. He made it a practice never to lie to himself. Yeah. Okay. Sundance wasn't going anywhere.
10. Signed by Cinnamon (Eliot sig tags x 2)
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1. Picspam
2. Meta - Eliot Spencer: Badass Woobie
Eliot Spencer is the ultimate badass, but he's got enough of a touch of woobie that he trips my woobie-loving trigger all the time. I'm constantly blindsided with the desire to see someone gather him up and just hold on until his wall breaks and he sobs out years of disillusionment and pain. I love Eliot because of his need to protect and to nurture (as evidenced by his need to feed his team). I love him because he's able to back up that need to protect with real action, and I love that-when it's really necessary-he reaches into himself and gives up his gentle side: Randy from "The Order 23 Job" and Molly from "The Carnival Job" are the best examples that come to mind. I love Eliot because that starry-eyed boy with the flag on his sleeve still exists within him, albeit coated with the thick black tar of reality. Despite his affinity with Oscar the Grouch and all the green monster stands for, there's a light that burns bright inside Eliot. Even with all my love, though, I have to say his temper bugs me sometimes, but it's such an obvious product of self-preservation that seeing him grumpy and snappy takes me right back to that desire to see someone break him down, but only so they can build him right back up.
3. Eliot's Future
It's hard to consider what life might be like for Eliot Spencer in the future because none of the team members are easy to predict, and his life is inextricably tied to protecting theirs "until [his] dying day" (Eliot to Sophie in "The Long Goodbye Job"). Are Parker and Hardison the type to feel the pressure of a biological clock and eventually need to step down for the protection of their children? What will that mean for Leverage International? I believe that, eventually, the original crew will bring in new people as they meet kindred souls who have the skills and the desire to right the worlds' wrongs one person at a time.
Eliot will be there to keep them moving forward in the field, perhaps to take point if Parker and Hardison choose desk jobs because they have a family. As things settle down in real time for the original other four, Eliot may reach a point where he feels he's redeemed himself enough to take another chance on love. It will likely blindside him. She'll be strong and capable in whatever way she excels-it doesn't really matter what she does as long as her heart and energy is in it but it feels like it will be a helping profession. He'll balk at first, until he finds out that they can move in and out of each other's lives with little and she is truly okay with that.
He'll be grumpy Uncle Eliot to the children that are born and grow around him and, someday, maybe, he'll become a father himself but it'll be a very tough decision for him. There will always be a part of him held in reserve and he'll worry that he'll fail his son when it comes to letting him know he's loved.
Eliot has healed a great deal, and he can heal more. But there will always be pieces missing. In time I believe he'll come to peace with that, and find a way to stop sleeping with one eye open.
4. Icons x 5 - Eliot's softer side ... in a matter of speaking...
5. Eliot's Ten Best Canon Moments (In No Particular Order)
Eliot's confession to the team that he'd once been Moreau's henchman was a defining moment for both him and the team.
The shoot-out in which he eradicated Moreau's hit squad showed how far he'd go for his chosen family... and how easily he could still access the killer.
The first time Eliot shows his badass (in the pilot), a.k.a. "That's what I do."
The moment that Eliot puts fear into the eyes of the interrogator in "The Experimental Job".
Coming back from a fight with a frickin' carnival ride! (And going on to save Molly.)
Picking up on Randy's plight and ultimately taking care of him via the locals in "The Order 23 Job".
His willingness to kill in order to save Nate from himself in "The Last Dam Job".
Taking bullets for the good of mankind in "The Rundown Job".
Running the con after Nate is captured in "The Zanzibar Marketplace Job".
Admitting his need for family and promising his loyalty to the team "until his dying day" in "The Long Goodbye Job".
6. Fanmix - Eliot Spencer: Coming Storm Cover Art (front and back) + MP3 Zip
(Click art for link to MP3 zip.)
7. Fanmix: Lyrics
(Click spoiler tag for lyrics.)
[''Rooster'' by Alice in Chains]
"Rooster"
Written by Jerry Cantrell
Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere
Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah [2x]
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no, ya know he ain't gonna die
Walkin' tall machine gun man
They spit on me in my home land
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy
Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death
My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath
Oh god please won't you help me make it through
Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no ya know he ain't gonna die
[''Veterans of the Psychic Wars'' by Blue Oyster Cult]
"Veterans of the Psychic Wars"
Written by Eric Bloom and Michael Moorcock
You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
I've been living on the edge so long, where the winds of limbo roar
And I'm young enough to look at, and far too old to see
All the scars are on the inside
I'm not sure that there's anything left of me
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
You ask me why I'm weary, why I can't speak to you
You blame me for my silence, say it's time I changed and grew
But the war's still going on, dear, and there's nowhen that I know
And I can't stand forever
I can't say if we're ever gonna be free
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
My energy is spent at last, and my armor is destroyed
I have used up all my weapons, and I'm helpless and bereaved
Wounds are all I'm made of
Did I hear you say that this is victory?
Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it
Send me to the rear
Where the tides of madness swell
And men sliding into hell
Oh please, don't let these shakes go on.
[''Black Hole Sun'' by Soundgarden]
"Black Hole Sun"
Written by Chris Cornell
In my eyes
Indisposed
In disguise
As no one knows
Hides the face
Lies the snake
The sun
In my disgrace
Boiling heat
Summer stench
'Neath the black
The sky looks dead
Call my name
Through the cream
And I'll hear you
Scream again
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind
Tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
And sometimes
Far too long
For snakes
In my shoes
A walking sleep
And my youth
I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings
Like you
Anymore
Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just
Disappear
[''The Good Left Undone'' by Rise Against]
The Good Left Undone
Written by Tim McIlrath
In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding there what I'd been missing,
But I know...
So I tell myself, I tell myself it's wrong.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it could live. I walked away now.
But I know...
Not a day goes by that I don't feel this burn.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you...
All because of you...
All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I'll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
[''Dear God'' by Avenged Sevenfold]
Dear God
Written by Synyster Gates, Johnny Christ and M. Shadows
A lonely road, crossed another cold state line
Miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find
While I recall all the words you spoke to me
Can't help but wish that I was there
Back where I'd love to be, oh yeah
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need that person who can be true to you
But I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
There's nothing here for me, on this barren road
There's no one here while the city sleeps
And all the shops are closed
Can't help but think of the times I've had with you
Pictures and some memories will have to help me through, oh yeah
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need that person who can be true to you
I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
Some search, never finding a way
Before long, they waste away
I found you, something told me to stay
I gave in, to selfish ways
And how I miss someone to hold
When hope begins to fade...
A lonely road, crossed another cold state line
Miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find
Dear God, the only thing I ask of you
Is to hold her when I'm not around
When I'm much too far away
We all need the person who can be true to you
I left her when I found her
And now I wish I'd stayed
'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired
I'm missing you again, oh no...
Once again
8. (Fic: The Guy Who Came in from the Cold)
Crossover: Leverage/The Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Eliot Spencer
Word count: 619
Warnings: Language
Eliot was awake long before he moved. Long before his breathing changed. Long before he even considered opening his eyes. He lay still, keeping the tension from his body with practiced effort and sheer will, his muscles loose but ready as he listened in the preternatural stillness of the room. Something had triggered the alertness that was much a part of him as the beating of his heart or his growl. Someone. To anyone watching, even the most observant, it appeared he was still asleep on the double bed-size bunk built into the wall, open only at the front. Not even when he finally moved to curl his fingers around the hilt of his knife was it obvious, the pillow hiding his actions.
When he moved, it was a blur of motion, his body launching in the air, using the lip of the niche that was his bedroom to dive into the middle of the room and come up in a combatant's crouch. The glint of moonlight off of the steel blade in his hand was a grim reminder to whoever had made it in through his defenses that he wasn't an easy target.
Turning in a circle, still low to the ground, he finally found the man hiding all too well in the shadows near the door. He'd have to do something about that when this was over.
Eliot's breath leaked out in a slow, measured exhale. He stood and shook his head, flipping the Ka-Bar in his hand before throwing it without looking at the scarred practice board he'd mounted when he'd moved into the old industrial loft. "That's a good way to get yourself hurt real bad," he finally said, padding over to his refrigerator for two bottles of the first craft beer Hardison and Parker had gotten right.
Barton smiled lightly, but he didn't say anything. "I've been watching you through the skylight for an hour. You're slipping." He settled into one of the two overstuffed chairs in what passed for a sitting area. "Look at you. Furniture. You're getting damn right domestic."
"Fuck you," Eliot answered, no heat in the obscene directive.
"You first," Barton answered, still smiling, clinking his bottle with Eliot's and settling deeper into the chair.
"I'm not available," Eliot said simply, cutting off any recruiting talk at the knees.
"We know. I think Fury's actually given up on you."
"Good."
"I haven't given up on you."
"You should," Eliot says quietly, staring at the sweating bottle in his hand. "How's Natasha?"
"Ouch."
Eliot slanted a glance his way and shrugged. "Call 'em like I see 'em."
"She's not you. Never was. Never will be."
Eliot let that sit in the air around them for a bit. "Why did you come?"
"Got tired of being alone in a crowd."
"Bullshit." Eliot's tone is harsh and short. He doesn't have time for lies. "You live for that shit. You've always liked to watch from above. From apart. You're worse than Parker."
The room is quiet again. Pregnant with silent regret.
"That was before I finally found out what it was like not to be alone."
The quiet confession had Eliot closing his eyes, heat curling in his belly in remembrance.
"Time to come in from the cold," Barton added softly.
Getting up, Eliot set his bottle down, his movements slow and deliberate. The hand he held out, palm down, trembled slightly as Barton took it. Maybe it was time for both of them to get warm.
9. (Fic: Eliot Spencer Gets a Puppy)
Word count: 826
Warnings: None
There's a reason for every choice that Eliot Spencer makes about the way he lives. A reason he always buys and renovates a house on at least five acres, his nearest neighbors more than a gunshot-range distance away. A reason that his property is subtly rigged with tells: from conventional alarms to much harder to read evidence that someone or something has invaded his space. There's no gate in his fence. No driveway. And the barricade around the boundary of his property is far enough off the road and covered with enough greenery that it's not easily recognizable as chain link.
There's a reason his houses are built (or reinforced) with double walls of brick sandwiching solid hardwood between them. That his "bedroom" consists of a shelf in one of those walls, the floor and roof just as secure as the three walls around it. The mattress just fits, no extra space, but there are a couple of cubbies built into one of those walls that hold his favorite knife, his phone, wallet, and keys to his truck and the storage unit under three different shell companies that holds his bug-out kit.
There's a reason that he lives off the grid, his generator in a tamper-proof bunker under the dirt, the wires that keep him in power when he needs it protected by layers of concrete.
There's a reason.
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. Especially when some of those "theys" are the most dangerous killers in the world.
Normally he's happy to be there by himself. It's good to get away from the team: the nonsensical patter from Parker and the non-stop geek "top this" chatter from Hardison, Sophie's not-so-subtle manipulation and Nate's quiet domination or foul temper, depending on the day. He likes getting outside in his garden to nurture his sun-nourished plants as much as he relishes spending time in the dark, quiet underground hydroponic back up vegetable supply and fish hatchery accessible from a tunnel in his basement.
But even Eliot Spencer will tell you that sometimes he gets lonely.
Tonight was one of those nights, and he wandered out to flop down onto his outdoor loveseat, the crackling of the fire pit and chirping of the crickets joining with the mid-fall breeze to try to lull him into as deep a sense of peace as he ever finds.
He stopped the lift of the bottle halfway to his lips when he heard the first soft whimper. His brows came together, and he went into that preternaturally still place, his senses firing on all cylinders.
There. He heard it again, off to his left about nine o'clock. A soft sound. A miserable sound. His protective instincts recognized an animal in pain, and he quickly stripped off his flannel shirt and stood up, stalking the small package huddled in the grass.
He caught it quickly but infinitely gently, wrapping the trembling, way too thin pup-clearly a mix of several breeds with fuzzy fur and non-descript markings-in his shirt to protect both of them. He needn't have bothered. The pup didn't have the energy to do little more than thunk its exhausted head against Eliot's chest.
It was a long night. After checking the tiny, pitiful mass of fleas and mud for more grievous injuries, broken teeth and signs of abdominal stress, Eliot whispered sweet nothings to the little furry fighter as he subjected him to the frightening indignity of a warm, soapy sink bath.
The teeth that caught his finger at one point spoke to the food Eliot would work on getting into the small beast. Past the Pablum stage, he pureed some vegetables and meat into a paste, started a hydrating IV and settled into a chair by the fire. The next few hours would make a big difference. Success or failure, the pup wouldn't be alone.
Eighteen hours and three tiny meals later, a warm, wet assault against Eliot's shirt actually made him smile. "There you go," he encouraged, shifting the quilt he'd been covered with away from his lap to protect it while the puppy finished.
Another patient trip to the bathroom to clean them both, Eliot settled the mutt on the kitchen counter in a ray of light from the window while he worked on more of the nourishing, mineral and fat rich food. The puppy was starting to show signs of curiosity. "Don't go walking off the edge, there, Sundance."
Eliot frowned at himself but only for a moment. He chuckled when he realized the name fit and he was all right with it, but he jerked himself up short. "Don't get comfortable here. I'm just getting you healthy and then it's off to a real home."
The puppy yawned, clearly not concerned. Eliot glanced over again, hesitating, watching. And he finally smiled. He made it a practice never to lie to himself. Yeah. Okay. Sundance wasn't going anywhere.
10. Signed by Cinnamon (Eliot sig tags x 2)
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