Mod Gift for Hollow_Echos - 2014 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange
Title: What the Heart Really Wants
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: hollow_echos
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Eliot, Parker, Shelley
Word Count: 1788
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: Parker calls Eliot to rescue her from a side job gone horribly wrong. In the process of getting her sorted out, an old friend recognizes a truth Eliot has been afraid to admit to himself.
Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy it hollow_echos! Thank you for playing with us this year!
“Are you going to tell Nate?”
Eliot hated this feeling - equal parts rage and fear that never seemed to find a good outlet. Counting silently to ten, he finally looked in the rear-view mirror and found the reflection of her too-wide, still much too fearful blue eyes. “Parker, do you understand what that splint on your leg means?”
“I hurt my leg,” the thief answered promptly. “But I knew that.”
“No,” he snapped, cutting her off sharply enough that he saw her flinch. “It means that I don’t know how badly you hurt your leg. It means that if I thought I could avoid the hospital having me arrested for beating you up I would take you to the hospital and damn the consequences.”
“No hospital,” she said quickly. “And anyway, you didn’t beat me up.”
“No,” he agreed. “That meth-head Zukko did. A fact that I’m going to deal with myself as soon as I make sure you’re all right.” A surge of adrenaline overwhelmed him then at the thought of anyone laying hands on Parker like that, and the world around him went momentarily red. “Dammit Parker, what were you thinking?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Eliot immediately regretted his outburst. Rage and fear - it was a toxic combination. “It was a simple second story job,” she protested, her voice catching on the word ‘job’. “A Glenn-Reader safe so old that Hardison could crack it! And I’ve worked for Zukko before - he’s always been fine about this kind of thing!”
“You can’t trust a meth-head,” Eliot said, trying to keep as much anger as he could out of the statement. Something about the story was bothering him though. He wasn’t certain he would ever get the entire story out of Parker, but Salvatore Zukko was a known quantity in South Boston. Turning on somebody he’d hired under a legitimate contract wasn’t going to win him any favors in the local underworld. Not that he’s ever going to have to worry about that again, Eliot reminded himself. He still hadn’t settled on how much of Parker’s story they were going to have to tell the others, but the reckoning still to happen between him and Zukko would be something he would take to his grave.
“You’re not taking me to the hospital?” Parker asked, her voice uncharacteristically meek.
Eliot let his gaze tick up again. “I told you - too many questions. We’re going to see a friend of mine. He’ll be able to tell us just how bad you’re hurt and what it’s going to take to fix you up again.”
The reassurance that she wouldn’t be subjected to the tender mercies of modern corporate medicine seemed to calm the thief somewhat. The two of them drove the rest of the way in silence.
As a rule people who did black ops work got used to living without the attention of traditional modern medicine. The more ambitious operatives got their own training on the side and as a result became very popular on missions that called for more than a single person.
William Frances Shelley was one such person, and as much as Eliot could count anyone from that time in his life a friend, Shelley certainly qualified. Eliot had actually sought him out on hearing that Shelley had relocated to Boston, recognizing the benefits of having somebody in his corner he could trust for just such an occasion.
He’d called Shelley as soon as he’d retrieved Parker and wrapped his brain around the fact that the thief had been thrown off a nearby roof. He hadn’t even finished reporting on what little information he managed to glean by visual inspection and pressing Parker for details when Shelley had cut him off. “There’s a clinic on South Charles Street,” he said. “A buddy of mine lets me use it off the books. It’s not ideal, but I’ll be able to give you a better idea what you’re dealing with if you let me examine her there.”
“I don’t want Nate to be mad at me,” Parker said as Eliot pulled into the clinic parking lot. Another SUV was parked by what appeared to be the back door and a light could be seen shining around the edges of the covered window.
“Don’t think about that now,” Eliot told her, parking the SUV and opening the door. “And wait there - let me see if they’ve got a wheelchair.”
He knew the thief was about to protest that she could move under her own power, but he glared at her and she relaxed dutifully into her seat.
Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so glad to see a face from his past. “Got a wheelchair?” he asked. Grinning wryly, Shelley stepped back and gestured him inside.
No words were exchanged until Eliot got Parker safely inside and he and Shelley helped her up onto an examination table. “All right Parker,” Shelley said, starting to cut Eliot’s makeshift splint free, “walk me through everything that happened. Don’t leave anything out, even if it’s stupid or you don’t want to make Eliot mad.”
“Especially if it’s something you think will make me mad,” Eliot interjected, which earned him a brief but baleful look from Shelley.
Parker was still nervous as she glanced at him, but the thief quickly warmed to Shelley’s easy bedside manner. Eliot forced himself to stay quiet as she related her tale, committing every word to memory so that he could more easily exact payment for what it had cost them. It wasn’t until she finished and he caught Shelley glancing at him again that Eliot realized he was shaking with anger.
“All right Parker,” Shelley said, “the good news is that I’m pretty sure I can deal with everything that’s wrong.”
Parker raised an eyebrow at him. Eliot didn’t blame her on that one; for as loud as it was reverberating in the tiny exam room, Shelley might as well have gone ahead and spoken the ‘but’ aloud.
“But,” he continued dutifully, “you’re going to have a pretty long recovery time if you expect to get back full use of your arms and legs. There’s a lot of damage here and you’re going to have to give your body time to deal with all of it.”
“That’s okay,” Parker told him. “It doesn’t sound like anything I haven’t dealt with before.”
Eliot went from imagining how it would feel to separate Zukko’s head from his body to mowing down every man who had dared lay a hand on the thief with the best automatic rifle he could get his hands on without a moment’s hesitation.
“All right then,” Shelley said, momentarily unsure what he was supposed to do with that information. “I’m going to have Eliot move into the waiting room while we work, and then we’ll see about getting you sorted.”
“Don’t call Nate,” Parker repeated, catching his eye.
“You listen to Shelley,” Eliot said firmly. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Flipping on a couple of light switches so that he didn’t kill himself tripping over something in the darkness, Eliot moved to the end of the waiting room furthest away from where Parker and Shelley were and called Nate.
He felt a momentary stab of guilt when he heard the mastermind’s voice, but Parker was defaulting to how things had been when she was working alone. They had people to answer to now - people who would care what happened to them - and Eliot didn’t want to know how Nate would react to everything that had happened if they didn’t make certain he was fully briefed.
He’d also never told Parker he wouldn’t call Nate.
The mastermind was furious, but he listened until Eliot had exhausted what intel he had to give. “You stay with Parker until it’s safe to move her,” he ordered, “then bring her back here. I’m going to put Hardison on Zukko.”
“Nate…” Eliot began, not willing to let go of his cherished revenge fantasies quite yet.
“Don’t worry,” Nate said - almost as though he knew what Eliot was about to say. “Parker says this kind of behavior is out of character for Mr. Zukko. I have some ideas as to why that may be, and if I’m right we’re going to need to go very old school on this.”
“I want him,” Eliot said firmly, determined that whatever Nate might have planned that the mastermind understood what this meant to him.
“As do I,” Nate said. “Trust me Eliot - if we have to go old school, you will have more than a piece of him to play with.”
Intrigued now, Eliot spent a few more minutes on the phone settling things, then hung up and settled in a chair to wait.
Time passed, and without anything to distract him Eliot dozed.
“Eliot - wake up.”
The hitter came upright with a start to see Shelley standing a safe distance away. “What’s wrong?” he breathed, trying to slow his suddenly racing heartbeat.
His friend smiled at him. “Not a blessed thing, thank God. Just didn’t want to risk you taking a swing at me in your sleep.”
Snorting softly, Eliot straightened up and gestured Shelley to a seat. “How is she?”
“Unconscious,” his friend said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I maxed her out on painkillers. I do not envy you having to get this one through the kind of rehab she’s facing.”
Eliot’s chest tightened over a fresh knot of fear. “How bad is it?”
Shelley’s expression sobered. “I wrote it all out for you. Everything I found, everything I fixed, and everything she’s going to need to do to get past it.” He paused. “Now I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing? I haven’t seen your heart so big on your sleeve since you were guarding that arms dealer’s kids.”
“She’s part of the crew I’m working with,” Eliot said, suddenly self-conscious at being called out so boldly. “That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Shelley rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re getting ready to do murder over what was done to that girl, or I don’t know you half as well as I think I do. That’s not your white knight complex coming to bear - that’s real feelings at work.”
“You know I can’t risk a real relationship,” Eliot said, sidestepping the question of whether or not Shelley was right. If he argued the point it was just going to complicate matters further. “People like us…it’s just not in the cards.”
Shelley huffed out a quiet laugh. “You keep trying to tell yourself that. Then when you’re getting ready to roast whoever did that to your girl, ask your heart what it thinks.”
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: hollow_echos
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Eliot, Parker, Shelley
Word Count: 1788
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: Parker calls Eliot to rescue her from a side job gone horribly wrong. In the process of getting her sorted out, an old friend recognizes a truth Eliot has been afraid to admit to himself.
Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy it hollow_echos! Thank you for playing with us this year!
“Are you going to tell Nate?”
Eliot hated this feeling - equal parts rage and fear that never seemed to find a good outlet. Counting silently to ten, he finally looked in the rear-view mirror and found the reflection of her too-wide, still much too fearful blue eyes. “Parker, do you understand what that splint on your leg means?”
“I hurt my leg,” the thief answered promptly. “But I knew that.”
“No,” he snapped, cutting her off sharply enough that he saw her flinch. “It means that I don’t know how badly you hurt your leg. It means that if I thought I could avoid the hospital having me arrested for beating you up I would take you to the hospital and damn the consequences.”
“No hospital,” she said quickly. “And anyway, you didn’t beat me up.”
“No,” he agreed. “That meth-head Zukko did. A fact that I’m going to deal with myself as soon as I make sure you’re all right.” A surge of adrenaline overwhelmed him then at the thought of anyone laying hands on Parker like that, and the world around him went momentarily red. “Dammit Parker, what were you thinking?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Eliot immediately regretted his outburst. Rage and fear - it was a toxic combination. “It was a simple second story job,” she protested, her voice catching on the word ‘job’. “A Glenn-Reader safe so old that Hardison could crack it! And I’ve worked for Zukko before - he’s always been fine about this kind of thing!”
“You can’t trust a meth-head,” Eliot said, trying to keep as much anger as he could out of the statement. Something about the story was bothering him though. He wasn’t certain he would ever get the entire story out of Parker, but Salvatore Zukko was a known quantity in South Boston. Turning on somebody he’d hired under a legitimate contract wasn’t going to win him any favors in the local underworld. Not that he’s ever going to have to worry about that again, Eliot reminded himself. He still hadn’t settled on how much of Parker’s story they were going to have to tell the others, but the reckoning still to happen between him and Zukko would be something he would take to his grave.
“You’re not taking me to the hospital?” Parker asked, her voice uncharacteristically meek.
Eliot let his gaze tick up again. “I told you - too many questions. We’re going to see a friend of mine. He’ll be able to tell us just how bad you’re hurt and what it’s going to take to fix you up again.”
The reassurance that she wouldn’t be subjected to the tender mercies of modern corporate medicine seemed to calm the thief somewhat. The two of them drove the rest of the way in silence.
As a rule people who did black ops work got used to living without the attention of traditional modern medicine. The more ambitious operatives got their own training on the side and as a result became very popular on missions that called for more than a single person.
William Frances Shelley was one such person, and as much as Eliot could count anyone from that time in his life a friend, Shelley certainly qualified. Eliot had actually sought him out on hearing that Shelley had relocated to Boston, recognizing the benefits of having somebody in his corner he could trust for just such an occasion.
He’d called Shelley as soon as he’d retrieved Parker and wrapped his brain around the fact that the thief had been thrown off a nearby roof. He hadn’t even finished reporting on what little information he managed to glean by visual inspection and pressing Parker for details when Shelley had cut him off. “There’s a clinic on South Charles Street,” he said. “A buddy of mine lets me use it off the books. It’s not ideal, but I’ll be able to give you a better idea what you’re dealing with if you let me examine her there.”
“I don’t want Nate to be mad at me,” Parker said as Eliot pulled into the clinic parking lot. Another SUV was parked by what appeared to be the back door and a light could be seen shining around the edges of the covered window.
“Don’t think about that now,” Eliot told her, parking the SUV and opening the door. “And wait there - let me see if they’ve got a wheelchair.”
He knew the thief was about to protest that she could move under her own power, but he glared at her and she relaxed dutifully into her seat.
Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so glad to see a face from his past. “Got a wheelchair?” he asked. Grinning wryly, Shelley stepped back and gestured him inside.
No words were exchanged until Eliot got Parker safely inside and he and Shelley helped her up onto an examination table. “All right Parker,” Shelley said, starting to cut Eliot’s makeshift splint free, “walk me through everything that happened. Don’t leave anything out, even if it’s stupid or you don’t want to make Eliot mad.”
“Especially if it’s something you think will make me mad,” Eliot interjected, which earned him a brief but baleful look from Shelley.
Parker was still nervous as she glanced at him, but the thief quickly warmed to Shelley’s easy bedside manner. Eliot forced himself to stay quiet as she related her tale, committing every word to memory so that he could more easily exact payment for what it had cost them. It wasn’t until she finished and he caught Shelley glancing at him again that Eliot realized he was shaking with anger.
“All right Parker,” Shelley said, “the good news is that I’m pretty sure I can deal with everything that’s wrong.”
Parker raised an eyebrow at him. Eliot didn’t blame her on that one; for as loud as it was reverberating in the tiny exam room, Shelley might as well have gone ahead and spoken the ‘but’ aloud.
“But,” he continued dutifully, “you’re going to have a pretty long recovery time if you expect to get back full use of your arms and legs. There’s a lot of damage here and you’re going to have to give your body time to deal with all of it.”
“That’s okay,” Parker told him. “It doesn’t sound like anything I haven’t dealt with before.”
Eliot went from imagining how it would feel to separate Zukko’s head from his body to mowing down every man who had dared lay a hand on the thief with the best automatic rifle he could get his hands on without a moment’s hesitation.
“All right then,” Shelley said, momentarily unsure what he was supposed to do with that information. “I’m going to have Eliot move into the waiting room while we work, and then we’ll see about getting you sorted.”
“Don’t call Nate,” Parker repeated, catching his eye.
“You listen to Shelley,” Eliot said firmly. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Flipping on a couple of light switches so that he didn’t kill himself tripping over something in the darkness, Eliot moved to the end of the waiting room furthest away from where Parker and Shelley were and called Nate.
He felt a momentary stab of guilt when he heard the mastermind’s voice, but Parker was defaulting to how things had been when she was working alone. They had people to answer to now - people who would care what happened to them - and Eliot didn’t want to know how Nate would react to everything that had happened if they didn’t make certain he was fully briefed.
He’d also never told Parker he wouldn’t call Nate.
The mastermind was furious, but he listened until Eliot had exhausted what intel he had to give. “You stay with Parker until it’s safe to move her,” he ordered, “then bring her back here. I’m going to put Hardison on Zukko.”
“Nate…” Eliot began, not willing to let go of his cherished revenge fantasies quite yet.
“Don’t worry,” Nate said - almost as though he knew what Eliot was about to say. “Parker says this kind of behavior is out of character for Mr. Zukko. I have some ideas as to why that may be, and if I’m right we’re going to need to go very old school on this.”
“I want him,” Eliot said firmly, determined that whatever Nate might have planned that the mastermind understood what this meant to him.
“As do I,” Nate said. “Trust me Eliot - if we have to go old school, you will have more than a piece of him to play with.”
Intrigued now, Eliot spent a few more minutes on the phone settling things, then hung up and settled in a chair to wait.
Time passed, and without anything to distract him Eliot dozed.
“Eliot - wake up.”
The hitter came upright with a start to see Shelley standing a safe distance away. “What’s wrong?” he breathed, trying to slow his suddenly racing heartbeat.
His friend smiled at him. “Not a blessed thing, thank God. Just didn’t want to risk you taking a swing at me in your sleep.”
Snorting softly, Eliot straightened up and gestured Shelley to a seat. “How is she?”
“Unconscious,” his friend said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I maxed her out on painkillers. I do not envy you having to get this one through the kind of rehab she’s facing.”
Eliot’s chest tightened over a fresh knot of fear. “How bad is it?”
Shelley’s expression sobered. “I wrote it all out for you. Everything I found, everything I fixed, and everything she’s going to need to do to get past it.” He paused. “Now I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing? I haven’t seen your heart so big on your sleeve since you were guarding that arms dealer’s kids.”
“She’s part of the crew I’m working with,” Eliot said, suddenly self-conscious at being called out so boldly. “That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Shelley rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re getting ready to do murder over what was done to that girl, or I don’t know you half as well as I think I do. That’s not your white knight complex coming to bear - that’s real feelings at work.”
“You know I can’t risk a real relationship,” Eliot said, sidestepping the question of whether or not Shelley was right. If he argued the point it was just going to complicate matters further. “People like us…it’s just not in the cards.”
Shelley huffed out a quiet laugh. “You keep trying to tell yourself that. Then when you’re getting ready to roast whoever did that to your girl, ask your heart what it thinks.”