Sometimes They WIn
Title: Sometimes They Win
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Nate/Eliot
Verse: BlackKing!WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: There are wolves in the world, and Eliot knows sometimes they win.
Notes: Hey from college! On my new computer since my old one up and crashed, which is both bad and good news. The bad news is that I had the mostly finished first chapter of THe Legacy Job, and the first version of this on there, with no backup.
The good news is the rewritting rarely hurts the ficcing.
I've got a couple fics partially done and now that orientation is over I will be able to write them again. However I am trying to have a life so I make no large promises on frequent postings.
That said, this is starting to look like it's going to become an arc of it's own. I name it the "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc, since it takes place after the Fairy God Parents job and is somewhat related to the gun/hit man. To understand this you really just need to have read Fathers. It won't make *any* sense if you havn't.
Also, if after reading this anyone was thinking my latest theme is Eliot is slowly but surely heading toward a total breakdown/explosion of violence then you are correct and get a cookie.
Warning: Heavily implied non-con and past sexual abuse.
“Arms up, Front guard!” Eliot called out, nodding his head approvingly as the girls did as told, forming neat lines. If nothing else they were at least decent at taking direction. Private school seemed to be good for something. Go figure.
Well mostly. One little blonde girl in the back raised her hand and stepped out of line. “Mr. why do we have to do this?” She asked.
Another girl turned and answered for him. “Because there are wolves in the world.”
“There are wolves in the world” The other girls in the class chorused. “So you better be careful.”
Together they started going through the basic set of moves Eliot had been teaching them. A small army of ten year old girls with stern faces and determined eyes practiced martial arts chanting a mantra together. “There are wolves in the world so you better be careful.”
The little blonde girl had disappeared from the lines, slipping out of sight with the same eerie ability as…
“There are wolves in the world Eliot.” The little girl’s voice said behind her now.
Eliot spun to face her.
Parker stood behind him, a bullet hole in her forehead. “There are wolves in the world Eliot.” She reached up, looking perplexed and touching the blood beginning to trail down her face. “And sometimes they win.”
Eliot felt like the floor was ripped out from under him.
He stumbled forward, reaching for Parker. She was still walking around. He might be able to save her still.
She crumpled to the ground, life fleeing her even as he caught her shoulders.
No. This wasn’t happening. The job was done. He’d done his part. He’d taken out the gunman. Parker and Hardison were fine. He hadn’t not been there to protect them when they needed him.
Oh god. Hardison.
“Cops and robbers cops and robbers.” The words said singsong echoed around the room, Parkers form twisting and shrinking into the little girl who pushed herself back to her feet and took Eliot’s hand, tugging him along with her. “Cops and rapists, cops and rapists.” She singsonged again, her little sweet voice lingering disturbingly over the twist. She giggled, looking back at him, only her face was scorched and eyes burned out sockets like the victims of the impromptu nerve gas he couldn’t even remember where exactly he’d seen it used.
“Cops and rapists cops and rapists”
Hands. Hands grabbed him from behind, tearing him away from the little girl who skipped off ahead of him still singing.
Eliot turned, ready to strike, when the hands changed. Hardison’s. He could tell just by the feel of the contact.
He turned, bracing himself for Hardison’s death.
The man’s dark skin had gone pale, he was shaking, watching Eliot with terrified eyes. “There are wolves in the world.” Hardison said barely above a whisper.
Eliot looked around, assessing they were safe before turning his attention to
Hardison. “Hardison… It’s alright. Tell me what happened.” He reached out to touch Hardison’s shoulder, try to get him to move a little, see if he was hurt.
Hardison flinched away, arms wrapping around himself, looking away. “There are wolves in the world. Sometimes they win.” His lips were swollen. There were bruises darkening on his arms. The way he was moving…
Eliot took a step backwards, stumbling over Parker’s corpse that was suddenly right there.
He fell to the ground, landing on hard cold tile, feeling it all along his body as he collapsed onto it.
Hardison stood off to the side mumbling about wolves in the world over and over as the bathroom door crashed open and the gunman stepped in. He smiled, showing yellowed teeth, crossing over to Eliot.
Hands Eliot would never forget the feeling of, that he remembered exactly even after twenty years, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hair, dragging him toward the door. Just before he was pulled out into the darkness of his bedroom he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.
His reflection showed a young boy who couldn’t be more than thirteen, dark skinned, tall, and awkward. Long fingers that would one day fly across keyboards gripped desperately at the door frame, nails leaving scratches as he was ripped away.
Darkness claimed him and hands became fists and kicks until he lay inches from unconsciousness.
The darkness pulled away his clothes, stripping him, turning him.
Taking him.
Eliot came awake with a jolt, thrashing against the arms still holding him tightly.
They gave way in a heartbeat, letting him pull away and half sit up on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to take a breath and figure out where he was. Reality and dream still intersected, phantom hands gripping him, the pain and ache and burn still almost as real as it wasn’t. The terror, helplessness, the need to fight or flee sent adrenalin racing through his system hard and fast almost burning out his ability to think as instinct tried desperately to take over.
Seconds passed into minutes as he came down, realigning his mind with reality. He was home, in the penthouse apartment Hardison had “given” him and Nate. They’d finished the last of the unpacking and furnishing after they wrapped up the job at the private school. The ache was from the fight and his and Nate’s private celebrations after the unpacking was done.
Parker and Hardison were fine.
A hand touched his shoulder, gentle, just barely there. It was Nate. “Eliot?” He asked, his voice just as soft as the touch. He’d learned early to step lightly around Eliot when nightmares were involved but ever since Kentucky he’d become more gentle, more careful about old ghosts.
Eliot knew he was afraid the incident had refreshed old wounds, that it had brought back older nightmares, nightmares that could make Nate’s touch unbearable.
Eliot couldn’t bring himself to tell Nate those nightmares had never really stopped. They’d always been there, memories looming at the back of his mind. Even if consciously he’d suppressed them, forced them away like on a kid can… they’d always been there. Now they were just there more.
He let out a slow breath, reaching up to capture Nate’s hand. “I’m good.”
“You’re not.” Nate said, closing his hand tighter around Eliot’s shoulder and slowly drawing him back against Nate’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.
Eliot let him, relaxing back into the embrace, trying to let the smell and feel of Nate erase the lingering sensations from the dream.
For long moments neither said anything, there wasn’t much need to. It had been a little more than a month since they’d gotten back from Kentucky, about a two weeks since they’d decided to move back in together.
It had been twelve days since they started sharing a bed again.
In those twelve days there hadn’t been one night not interrupted by a nightmare.
He knew Nate was worried, that it didn’t take a genius to recognize that there were issues occurring here, that Nate could probably guess the nightmares had been going on since Kentucky.
But other than the morning he killed That Man Eliot had never spoken of his dreams. Nate knew not to ask.
“Tell me?” The two words broke the silence and Eliot turned, looking up to see Nate surprised. “Your dreams are getting worse Eliot.” Nate continued slowly. “Last year you’d wake up and you knew where you were, even if it hung over you you never got lost. Now you wake up but the dream doesn’t end .”
Eliot licked his lips, trying to find words for what he’d dreamed but losing them halfway out. He wouldn’t tell Nate he’d dreamt that following Nate’s order had gotten Parker killed. He wouldn’t tell him he’d dreamt about the cold tile floor of the bathroom he’d clean himself up in before letting Joey patch him up. He wouldn’t tell Nate he’d dreamed that it was Hardison in his place and how somehow that had brought a whole level of horror to it that he couldn’t quite give words to.
He loved Nate. He’d even said it. They’d admitted it, if only just that once.
But there were some times when that was too much, too close, too there to hurt him. Eliot knew a description of his nightmares would probably only fuel Nate’s.
Eliot broke away from Nate’s hold, getting out of bed and getting dressed in old blue jeans and a wife beater, staying barefoot.
“El?” Nate asked softly.
“I’m gonna ride a bit, clear my head.” Eliot partially lied. He would be riding around a bit. Parker was always hard to track down.
Nate nodded, but smiled sadly. “Hardison’s probably still up, you’ll need an excuse.” Nate said. He understood what Eliot did and didn’t say. Sometimes, when the nightmares were bad and he’d watched the others die, the only way to get a little piece of mind was to make sure they were alive and breathing. “Eliot?”
Eliot stopped at the door, turning back to look to Nate. “Yeah?”
“You know it wouldn’t be your fault.” Nate said. “I call the shots. If someone gets hurt cause you did what I said…” He trailed off.
“There are wolves in the world Nate.” Eliot said in the silnce that followed. “Sometimes they win.” He turned back to the door. “Nate, you should know. If the wolves out in the world win, one way or another I won’t be coming back home.”
He slipped out of the apartment and into the night.
There were wolves out in the world and sometimes they win.
But there was a wolf inside of him too.
If the wolves out there won, if he failed and someone got killed.
Well then the wolf inside of him might win too.
Previous: Concerning The History Channel, A wall, and Apple Shampoo
Next: Sometimes it Helps
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Nate/Eliot
Verse: BlackKing!WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: There are wolves in the world, and Eliot knows sometimes they win.
Notes: Hey from college! On my new computer since my old one up and crashed, which is both bad and good news. The bad news is that I had the mostly finished first chapter of THe Legacy Job, and the first version of this on there, with no backup.
The good news is the rewritting rarely hurts the ficcing.
I've got a couple fics partially done and now that orientation is over I will be able to write them again. However I am trying to have a life so I make no large promises on frequent postings.
That said, this is starting to look like it's going to become an arc of it's own. I name it the "In the Shadow of a Gunman" arc, since it takes place after the Fairy God Parents job and is somewhat related to the gun/hit man. To understand this you really just need to have read Fathers. It won't make *any* sense if you havn't.
Also, if after reading this anyone was thinking my latest theme is Eliot is slowly but surely heading toward a total breakdown/explosion of violence then you are correct and get a cookie.
Warning: Heavily implied non-con and past sexual abuse.
“Arms up, Front guard!” Eliot called out, nodding his head approvingly as the girls did as told, forming neat lines. If nothing else they were at least decent at taking direction. Private school seemed to be good for something. Go figure.
Well mostly. One little blonde girl in the back raised her hand and stepped out of line. “Mr. why do we have to do this?” She asked.
Another girl turned and answered for him. “Because there are wolves in the world.”
“There are wolves in the world” The other girls in the class chorused. “So you better be careful.”
Together they started going through the basic set of moves Eliot had been teaching them. A small army of ten year old girls with stern faces and determined eyes practiced martial arts chanting a mantra together. “There are wolves in the world so you better be careful.”
The little blonde girl had disappeared from the lines, slipping out of sight with the same eerie ability as…
“There are wolves in the world Eliot.” The little girl’s voice said behind her now.
Eliot spun to face her.
Parker stood behind him, a bullet hole in her forehead. “There are wolves in the world Eliot.” She reached up, looking perplexed and touching the blood beginning to trail down her face. “And sometimes they win.”
Eliot felt like the floor was ripped out from under him.
He stumbled forward, reaching for Parker. She was still walking around. He might be able to save her still.
She crumpled to the ground, life fleeing her even as he caught her shoulders.
No. This wasn’t happening. The job was done. He’d done his part. He’d taken out the gunman. Parker and Hardison were fine. He hadn’t not been there to protect them when they needed him.
Oh god. Hardison.
“Cops and robbers cops and robbers.” The words said singsong echoed around the room, Parkers form twisting and shrinking into the little girl who pushed herself back to her feet and took Eliot’s hand, tugging him along with her. “Cops and rapists, cops and rapists.” She singsonged again, her little sweet voice lingering disturbingly over the twist. She giggled, looking back at him, only her face was scorched and eyes burned out sockets like the victims of the impromptu nerve gas he couldn’t even remember where exactly he’d seen it used.
“Cops and rapists cops and rapists”
Hands. Hands grabbed him from behind, tearing him away from the little girl who skipped off ahead of him still singing.
Eliot turned, ready to strike, when the hands changed. Hardison’s. He could tell just by the feel of the contact.
He turned, bracing himself for Hardison’s death.
The man’s dark skin had gone pale, he was shaking, watching Eliot with terrified eyes. “There are wolves in the world.” Hardison said barely above a whisper.
Eliot looked around, assessing they were safe before turning his attention to
Hardison. “Hardison… It’s alright. Tell me what happened.” He reached out to touch Hardison’s shoulder, try to get him to move a little, see if he was hurt.
Hardison flinched away, arms wrapping around himself, looking away. “There are wolves in the world. Sometimes they win.” His lips were swollen. There were bruises darkening on his arms. The way he was moving…
Eliot took a step backwards, stumbling over Parker’s corpse that was suddenly right there.
He fell to the ground, landing on hard cold tile, feeling it all along his body as he collapsed onto it.
Hardison stood off to the side mumbling about wolves in the world over and over as the bathroom door crashed open and the gunman stepped in. He smiled, showing yellowed teeth, crossing over to Eliot.
Hands Eliot would never forget the feeling of, that he remembered exactly even after twenty years, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hair, dragging him toward the door. Just before he was pulled out into the darkness of his bedroom he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.
His reflection showed a young boy who couldn’t be more than thirteen, dark skinned, tall, and awkward. Long fingers that would one day fly across keyboards gripped desperately at the door frame, nails leaving scratches as he was ripped away.
Darkness claimed him and hands became fists and kicks until he lay inches from unconsciousness.
The darkness pulled away his clothes, stripping him, turning him.
Taking him.
Eliot came awake with a jolt, thrashing against the arms still holding him tightly.
They gave way in a heartbeat, letting him pull away and half sit up on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to take a breath and figure out where he was. Reality and dream still intersected, phantom hands gripping him, the pain and ache and burn still almost as real as it wasn’t. The terror, helplessness, the need to fight or flee sent adrenalin racing through his system hard and fast almost burning out his ability to think as instinct tried desperately to take over.
Seconds passed into minutes as he came down, realigning his mind with reality. He was home, in the penthouse apartment Hardison had “given” him and Nate. They’d finished the last of the unpacking and furnishing after they wrapped up the job at the private school. The ache was from the fight and his and Nate’s private celebrations after the unpacking was done.
Parker and Hardison were fine.
A hand touched his shoulder, gentle, just barely there. It was Nate. “Eliot?” He asked, his voice just as soft as the touch. He’d learned early to step lightly around Eliot when nightmares were involved but ever since Kentucky he’d become more gentle, more careful about old ghosts.
Eliot knew he was afraid the incident had refreshed old wounds, that it had brought back older nightmares, nightmares that could make Nate’s touch unbearable.
Eliot couldn’t bring himself to tell Nate those nightmares had never really stopped. They’d always been there, memories looming at the back of his mind. Even if consciously he’d suppressed them, forced them away like on a kid can… they’d always been there. Now they were just there more.
He let out a slow breath, reaching up to capture Nate’s hand. “I’m good.”
“You’re not.” Nate said, closing his hand tighter around Eliot’s shoulder and slowly drawing him back against Nate’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.
Eliot let him, relaxing back into the embrace, trying to let the smell and feel of Nate erase the lingering sensations from the dream.
For long moments neither said anything, there wasn’t much need to. It had been a little more than a month since they’d gotten back from Kentucky, about a two weeks since they’d decided to move back in together.
It had been twelve days since they started sharing a bed again.
In those twelve days there hadn’t been one night not interrupted by a nightmare.
He knew Nate was worried, that it didn’t take a genius to recognize that there were issues occurring here, that Nate could probably guess the nightmares had been going on since Kentucky.
But other than the morning he killed That Man Eliot had never spoken of his dreams. Nate knew not to ask.
“Tell me?” The two words broke the silence and Eliot turned, looking up to see Nate surprised. “Your dreams are getting worse Eliot.” Nate continued slowly. “Last year you’d wake up and you knew where you were, even if it hung over you you never got lost. Now you wake up but the dream doesn’t end .”
Eliot licked his lips, trying to find words for what he’d dreamed but losing them halfway out. He wouldn’t tell Nate he’d dreamt that following Nate’s order had gotten Parker killed. He wouldn’t tell him he’d dreamt about the cold tile floor of the bathroom he’d clean himself up in before letting Joey patch him up. He wouldn’t tell Nate he’d dreamed that it was Hardison in his place and how somehow that had brought a whole level of horror to it that he couldn’t quite give words to.
He loved Nate. He’d even said it. They’d admitted it, if only just that once.
But there were some times when that was too much, too close, too there to hurt him. Eliot knew a description of his nightmares would probably only fuel Nate’s.
Eliot broke away from Nate’s hold, getting out of bed and getting dressed in old blue jeans and a wife beater, staying barefoot.
“El?” Nate asked softly.
“I’m gonna ride a bit, clear my head.” Eliot partially lied. He would be riding around a bit. Parker was always hard to track down.
Nate nodded, but smiled sadly. “Hardison’s probably still up, you’ll need an excuse.” Nate said. He understood what Eliot did and didn’t say. Sometimes, when the nightmares were bad and he’d watched the others die, the only way to get a little piece of mind was to make sure they were alive and breathing. “Eliot?”
Eliot stopped at the door, turning back to look to Nate. “Yeah?”
“You know it wouldn’t be your fault.” Nate said. “I call the shots. If someone gets hurt cause you did what I said…” He trailed off.
“There are wolves in the world Nate.” Eliot said in the silnce that followed. “Sometimes they win.” He turned back to the door. “Nate, you should know. If the wolves out in the world win, one way or another I won’t be coming back home.”
He slipped out of the apartment and into the night.
There were wolves out in the world and sometimes they win.
But there was a wolf inside of him too.
If the wolves out there won, if he failed and someone got killed.
Well then the wolf inside of him might win too.
Previous: Concerning The History Channel, A wall, and Apple Shampoo
Next: Sometimes it Helps