Fic: Unique From Any Other
Fic: Unique From Any Other
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG (Look at me, I can write without swearing!)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Notes: Prompted by rozabellalove: Eliot identifies members of the team trying to rescue him while kidnapped and blindfolded by a baddie - in the style of "It's a very distinctive..." This will probably be the last of those prompts I will fill (not counting Sheryden's, which is already a WIP and falls into the N/E promptfest) - thank you so much guys for help with the leverageland challenge.
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Eliot woke to the disorientating realisation that he was on his knees with his hands lifted high behind his back. The pressure on his shoulders was all that was keeping him from toppling and his shoulders were letting him know in no uncertain terms that they were not a fan of the situation.
He was blindfolded, which he was counting as a blessing given how his head was pounding, but he could tell he wasn't alone in the room. He struggled to his feet to get the pressure off his shoulders, feeling like the world under his feet was tipping aggressively. That was either a concussion or they'd managed to get him out to a boat. He couldn't remember where he'd been taken but he was pretty sure he hadn't been near the docks.
A foot came out of nowhere and took out the back of his knees, jarring him back down onto the hard floor. He managed to tip to his right at the last minute to save his dodgy left shoulder from another dislocation - feeling the hot-wet surge that suggested he'd still managed to tear something in there. He nearly bit through his cheek with the restrained yell, but his companion didn't add anything else to the exchange - not even a reminder to stay on his knees.
He forced his breathing slow and quiet, feeling the sharp hitch in his chest that was either a broken rib or some serious bruising - hard to tell with his weight all resting on his shoulders as it was. As he settled, he worked on pushing his other senses out into the room.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that - almost meditating to the ambient noise around him - before he heard it, but it was there. A tiny pitch change in the electronic hum. Barely anything really, but when it was followed by that cycle-change in intensity, half a dozen times or more... Hardison's hacking techniques were fairly distinctive, even from this end. And it was hardly the first time he'd been on this end. Eliot turned his head, wondering what Alec was taking control of out there. He assumed it was probably the surveillance system and subconsciously straightened, putting on his game face.
The new position was uncomfortable, but Eliot was sharp enough to hear the distinctive press-shuffle-press-shuffle of Parker moving tentatively through the metal venting above his head that he hadn't even realised was there. Some of the panels were flexing unhappily beneath her weight with a muted but distinctive wop-wop of rebounding metal, but it didn't seem to have drawn the attention of the guard.
Eliot carefully tucked his toes under his heels, but didn't make a move yet. Parker and Hardison might be in place, but that didn't mean it was time to act.
What seemed like far too long later there were two voices, made odd by a long corridor - and footsteps too, four pairs of those. He focused carefully and made out American accents - something south-western, but very disciplined, precise speech patterns. Forces of some kind, and maybe... yes, two pairs of Army boots. That covered two of the pairs of feet. The others... huh, one more pair of Army boots... but a very distinctive gait, very much not Army. Nate was on his way.
The panel above him flexed gently as Parker shifted, and whatever electronics Hardison had seized control of started a stutter-whirr.
The last set of footsteps were gentle, low heel, slightly hesitant... Sophie had to be playing the shy secretary. Or maybe the bullied wife. The two sounded very similar - upsettingly indistinct.
His guard moved towards the door on some unseen signal, and Eliot prepared himself for getting back onto his feet. Hardison's stutter-whirr turned into a full on hum as the door was unbolted, and then there was the distinctive pop of a light blowing out. Panicked voices hid the sound of Parker dropping towards him - a slick zip of ropes through metal devices - and his arms were released slowly.
Sophie's hand - too familiar to be anything but - caught hold of his own and helped him to his feet before pulling him out the door. He was less than perfectly balanced, ground lurching beneath his feet, nausea rising with every step and still blindfolded, but they made it a fair distance before he heard Nate's voice behind him; "My wife! That monster has taken my wife and escaped!"
They were both pulled into a smaller room off the corridor, and Sophie's oh-so-distinctive hands tugged gently at the blindfold as Hardison propped him up against the wall. Eliot kept his eyes closed for a beat or two, letting the first little bit of light seep through his eyelids before he squinted into the light. He pushed Hardison away because it needed to be done, but didn't try to move away from the wall that was supporting him.
Hardison gave him a bemused eye-roll and settled a comm in his ear as Sophie started poking at his shoulder, muttering about the way he'd taken that fall. Nate was cooking up murder on the comms and Parker casually reappeared without any kind of warning, getting a waggling finger from Sophie at her first attempts to move in close and poke him. Hardison was already back on his computer, hammering away as he made sure they were all safe and had a safe route out of there.
This feeling wasn't like anything else he'd ever experienced in his life, but hell if it wasn't reassuring to have something so very distinctive to fall back on when he needed them.
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG (Look at me, I can write without swearing!)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Notes: Prompted by rozabellalove: Eliot identifies members of the team trying to rescue him while kidnapped and blindfolded by a baddie - in the style of "It's a very distinctive..." This will probably be the last of those prompts I will fill (not counting Sheryden's, which is already a WIP and falls into the N/E promptfest) - thank you so much guys for help with the leverageland challenge.
-
Eliot woke to the disorientating realisation that he was on his knees with his hands lifted high behind his back. The pressure on his shoulders was all that was keeping him from toppling and his shoulders were letting him know in no uncertain terms that they were not a fan of the situation.
He was blindfolded, which he was counting as a blessing given how his head was pounding, but he could tell he wasn't alone in the room. He struggled to his feet to get the pressure off his shoulders, feeling like the world under his feet was tipping aggressively. That was either a concussion or they'd managed to get him out to a boat. He couldn't remember where he'd been taken but he was pretty sure he hadn't been near the docks.
A foot came out of nowhere and took out the back of his knees, jarring him back down onto the hard floor. He managed to tip to his right at the last minute to save his dodgy left shoulder from another dislocation - feeling the hot-wet surge that suggested he'd still managed to tear something in there. He nearly bit through his cheek with the restrained yell, but his companion didn't add anything else to the exchange - not even a reminder to stay on his knees.
He forced his breathing slow and quiet, feeling the sharp hitch in his chest that was either a broken rib or some serious bruising - hard to tell with his weight all resting on his shoulders as it was. As he settled, he worked on pushing his other senses out into the room.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that - almost meditating to the ambient noise around him - before he heard it, but it was there. A tiny pitch change in the electronic hum. Barely anything really, but when it was followed by that cycle-change in intensity, half a dozen times or more... Hardison's hacking techniques were fairly distinctive, even from this end. And it was hardly the first time he'd been on this end. Eliot turned his head, wondering what Alec was taking control of out there. He assumed it was probably the surveillance system and subconsciously straightened, putting on his game face.
The new position was uncomfortable, but Eliot was sharp enough to hear the distinctive press-shuffle-press-shuffle of Parker moving tentatively through the metal venting above his head that he hadn't even realised was there. Some of the panels were flexing unhappily beneath her weight with a muted but distinctive wop-wop of rebounding metal, but it didn't seem to have drawn the attention of the guard.
Eliot carefully tucked his toes under his heels, but didn't make a move yet. Parker and Hardison might be in place, but that didn't mean it was time to act.
What seemed like far too long later there were two voices, made odd by a long corridor - and footsteps too, four pairs of those. He focused carefully and made out American accents - something south-western, but very disciplined, precise speech patterns. Forces of some kind, and maybe... yes, two pairs of Army boots. That covered two of the pairs of feet. The others... huh, one more pair of Army boots... but a very distinctive gait, very much not Army. Nate was on his way.
The panel above him flexed gently as Parker shifted, and whatever electronics Hardison had seized control of started a stutter-whirr.
The last set of footsteps were gentle, low heel, slightly hesitant... Sophie had to be playing the shy secretary. Or maybe the bullied wife. The two sounded very similar - upsettingly indistinct.
His guard moved towards the door on some unseen signal, and Eliot prepared himself for getting back onto his feet. Hardison's stutter-whirr turned into a full on hum as the door was unbolted, and then there was the distinctive pop of a light blowing out. Panicked voices hid the sound of Parker dropping towards him - a slick zip of ropes through metal devices - and his arms were released slowly.
Sophie's hand - too familiar to be anything but - caught hold of his own and helped him to his feet before pulling him out the door. He was less than perfectly balanced, ground lurching beneath his feet, nausea rising with every step and still blindfolded, but they made it a fair distance before he heard Nate's voice behind him; "My wife! That monster has taken my wife and escaped!"
They were both pulled into a smaller room off the corridor, and Sophie's oh-so-distinctive hands tugged gently at the blindfold as Hardison propped him up against the wall. Eliot kept his eyes closed for a beat or two, letting the first little bit of light seep through his eyelids before he squinted into the light. He pushed Hardison away because it needed to be done, but didn't try to move away from the wall that was supporting him.
Hardison gave him a bemused eye-roll and settled a comm in his ear as Sophie started poking at his shoulder, muttering about the way he'd taken that fall. Nate was cooking up murder on the comms and Parker casually reappeared without any kind of warning, getting a waggling finger from Sophie at her first attempts to move in close and poke him. Hardison was already back on his computer, hammering away as he made sure they were all safe and had a safe route out of there.
This feeling wasn't like anything else he'd ever experienced in his life, but hell if it wasn't reassuring to have something so very distinctive to fall back on when he needed them.