My Enemy's Enemy
Title: My Enemy's Enemy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nate, Sterling
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: In which the truth comes out, Sterling pays a visit, and the game changes
Notes: This takes place post The Two Son's Job but prior to Bittersweet and occurs during and after the Big Damn Movie, otherwise known as Serenity. This will make a whole lot more sense if you've seen it.
Also I am very pleased with myself for managing to write a verse in which something that might normally be the height of crack is a very serious, non-cracky, plot point.
Many thanks and much praise to my beta LMX_v3point3.
This story is for the Forced to rely on Rival/Enemy square on my H/c Bingo card.
“Guys? I need everyone on the bridge.”
In that moment, with those words from Sam, full of horror, the game changed.
Later, if he really thought about it, he’d known a storm was coming. They had been just days out from the Burke job when Eliot’s nightly routine of cooking dinner was interrupted by him Dropping so hard and so fast it was more luck than anything that he didn’t impale himself on his own knife as he collapsed to the floor.
There had been a moment of shocked silence. Most of the crew was gathered, getting ready for dinner.
There had been a single moment of dread, before any of them could make themselves move, where they wondered if Eliot’s time was up and he was just d…
“No!” Parker was the first to break through the shock, crossing to Eliot’s side in a flash, relief clear in her voice as she called out to the rest of them. “He’s alive. Just Dropped hard.”
Nate and the rest followed, he could see Eliot’s eyes moving under his lids like he was having a nightmare.
“It’s like the bar,” Hardison said. “Only, you know, without him trying to kill everyone.”
“What could pull him down that fa-“ Sophie started but Eliot’s eyes flew open.
He whispered something in Greek before slumping into unconsciousness.
Nate looked toward Hardison but it was Parker who translated. “He said. ‘Now. Little sister. The game starts now.’”
When Eliot had woken up he hadn’t remembered anything. When told what he’d said Eliot had only been able to guess. When they’d saved the Reader named River on their first job, they’d established a connection of sorts by accident. He thought maybe that connection was part of what triggered him at the bar. Someone was looking for her.
Judging by what had just happened, they might have found her.
They spent the next few days trying to find any information on where Simon and River had ended up. Although the reasoning was rarely mentioned they all understood. If Simon and River fell into enemy hands the Alliance could very well come after Leverage soon after.
It was eighteen hours before Hardison showed them the footage he’d found from some bar's security feed, using the footprint left by the alliance and a little bit of instinct. It was an eerily familiar scene, a regular bar, the fruity Oaty Bar commercial, then suddenly there was River going into kill mode until Simon used her safeword.
It was only a small comfort to see the stranger who picked River up do so with care, and that Simon left with him willingly. They seemed to have allies.
“What can you tell me about him?” Nate asked, pointing to the man who had walked out with the young Reader.
Hardison typed for a minute before pulling up a record. “Malcom Renolds, captains a Firefly-class named Se… Serenity. He was a Browncoat in the war for Independence. Officer.” There was something tight and unsteady in Hardison’s voice but now wasn’t the time to prod at old wounds. “Volunteered.”
“So not likely to turn her in,” Nate said. “How long ago was this?”
“Two days. Maybe?” Hardison answered, turning away from the screen, clenching and unclenching his hands. Curious. “Then they go off the grid but…”
“What?” Sophie asked, the first of the rest of the assembled crew to speak.
Hardison turned back, tapping to bring up different screens. “About five minutes after I found this footage I found a bulletin that there’d been a shooting in the same bar.” He turned back, looking over Nate’s shoulder to Eliot. “Witnesses say one guy came in, incapacitated anyone who tried to stop him, killed two brothers, and got out.”
“Sounds familiar,” Eliot said, his voice harsher than usual. “Sounds like an LTO from Olympus making a point.”
Nate glanced toward Eliot.
“It’s how I would have done it,” he finished.
“I did a search,” Hardison explained. “I’ve been getting mixed reports but I’m pretty sure I’ve found three or four other incidents within the past two hours that seem like the work of Operatives or the Alliance.”
“Keep looking, let me know as soon as you find anything,” Nate said, shifting the pieces, wondering how it would turn out.
Sixteen hours later Sam’s voice crackled over the Ship’s intercom and the crew, gathered for breakfast, abandoned the meal.
What felt like only a handful of seconds later they were standing on the bridge, watching wordlessly as an alliance scientist revealed the fate of Miranda and the origin of the Reavers.
As the scientist was taken down, Dean’s hand shot forward, turning off the screen. The silence echoed with her screams.
No one knew what to say. No one knew what they could possibly say to that.
~*~
A week.
A week later the crew was mostly in bed and Nate was sitting at the conference table when a voice he’d never really thought to hear again greeted him. “Hello Nate.”
“Sterling.” Nate said, looking up, suppressing his surprise at the sight of the man. They were in the middle of space. It wasn’t exactly conditions that aided to someone dropping by. If nothing else Eliot should have been racing up here with a warning of an intruder before Sterling ever got inside.
“Lovely place,” Sterling said, looking around. “Very homey.”
“What are you doing here?” Nate said, not standing, though trying to mentally send Eliot a warning. He’d experimented at various points to try and work out whether or not Eliot would be able to pick up on thoughts directed to him. He'd had mixed results, but right now it was better than nothing.
“Simple,” Sterling responded. “I came to tell you a little story.” Sterling leaned against the table, putting down a small tumbler and sliding it to Nate to fill. “Nine days ago my brother Brian, you remember Brian?” Nate did, he’d teased Sterling mercilessly, when he'd found out that his colleague's brother had become a Crime Lord, and started calling himself Badger. “Well, he was the target of an attack. Now, he was prepared and he survived, but as you can probably imagine he was fairly curious why he'd been targeted. As his older brother, so was I.”
Nate poured some scotch into the glass, took a drink, and slid it back over to Sterling. “Go on.”
“I did some digging. As it turns out some of his business partners had annoyed the Powers that Be in the Alliance by harboring two fugitives. I did some poking around, called in a favor a certain upstanding citizen on New London owed me, and found their trail. Then I just so happened to stumble across this.” He pulled out a data sheet and spread it out on the table. It started playing the footage from the bar during the Burke job that Hardison had been so careful to delete. “Now seems to me, that right there is Eliot Spencer. And that man? Looks very much like Alec Hardison. I’d imagine that woman to be Parker, though we’ve never been properly introduced. Funny thing is, this was dated less than a month ago and all three were declared dead more than six months ago.”
Amongst the fear and adrenalin, Nate scrambled mentally for a con, but he had the sinking sensation he was caught in check mate by a move he’d never seen coming. “What does this have to do with me?” Nate asked.
“Other than the fact these three revenants are asleep in the crew quarters of your ship? The job they did with you as their handler was the last and only time the three were in contact. You can see where I got my suspicions. After that I just followed the trail of crime right back to you.” He took a sip from the glass and returned it. “Now this was in the files of a different agency, and you know how the agencies don’t play well together, but I imagine they’d be interested to know that three of their agents are alive, well, and have reverted to their old ways.”
Old ways…
After the better part of a year it took Nate a moment to remember that, to most of the verse, the agents of Olympus were thought to be reformed criminals putting their skills to better use. Almost no one knew the truth.
“The Alliance is in chaos right now. That little video has whole worlds in an uproar. I could call an alliance ship right now, turn you lot in. But who needs the paperwork?” He perched on the table with a very pleasant smile. “So instead I come with offer of a trade.”
“What do you want?” Nate asked, not letting relief show through his glare. Just another of Sterling’s games. Not the end of this.
“Collin,” Sterling said.
It took a moment to remember. Nate almost thought Sterling was talking about the Hacker Hardison had been telling him about.
But there was something in Sterling’s expression, a look Nate had only seen once before.
Six years ago they’d been discussing a case when Sterling had received a message. He’d opened it without bothering to move away from Nate and read it what must have been a dozen times before looking away, that expression echoed on his face.
It had been another two years before Nate had found out the message was confirmation of a lead on Sterling’s missing brother. The youngest of triplets, Collin had never made much for himself in the way of fame or fortune, just a regular worker with a wife and son on a rim world, before he had disappeared without a trace nearly a decade ago.
“You got a lead?” Nate asked.
“Of a sort,” Sterling answered. “More like just a few too many rumors about a project codenamed Hell for my liking and a few too many cases of mistaken identity for it to just be Brian. With the Alliance as unstable as it is right now it’s the best chance anyone might have of tracking down those rumors and finding the source.” He tapped the data pad. “Unfortunately this mess also means I’m busy right now.”
“So you want my crew to track down a secret government agency and find out if they’re responsible for your brother’s disappearance?”
“If you do that in the next six months I won’t tell the Alliance that three of its agents who know too much are out making mischief on the rim,” Sterling told him. “And the Alliance won’t be forced to kill everyone your little Robin Hood endeavor has saved to draw you out of hiding.”
“Six months you say?” Nate said, glancing to the file. “Not much time.”
“You’ve got the best thieves to ever be sanctioned by the Alliance on your payroll. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Without so much as a backwards glance he slipped out of the room.
Nate had a lot to consider before morning.
Later he’d imagine he felt Eliot enter the room before he saw or heard the reader.
“Ship’s getting pretty crowded these days,” Eliot commented, taking the glass from him and sitting down. “I need to take Parker and Hardison and run?”
Nate shook his head. “We’re safe. For now I think.”
Eliot nodded. “’Verse is going crazy. Some days I find myself missing the simple life.”
“When exactly has your life ever been simple Eliot?” Nate commented with skepticism.
Eliot drained the glass and slid it back toward him before standing. “I’m gonna go make sure he didn’t leave any surprises. Get some sleep or I ain't feeding your drunk ass in the morning.”
Nate watched him go, fade into the shadows beyond the conference room, and looked to his empty glass.
He was out of alcohol, but for some odd reason he felt better all the same.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nate, Sterling
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: In which the truth comes out, Sterling pays a visit, and the game changes
Notes: This takes place post The Two Son's Job but prior to Bittersweet and occurs during and after the Big Damn Movie, otherwise known as Serenity. This will make a whole lot more sense if you've seen it.
Also I am very pleased with myself for managing to write a verse in which something that might normally be the height of crack is a very serious, non-cracky, plot point.
Many thanks and much praise to my beta LMX_v3point3.
This story is for the Forced to rely on Rival/Enemy square on my H/c Bingo card.
“Guys? I need everyone on the bridge.”
In that moment, with those words from Sam, full of horror, the game changed.
Later, if he really thought about it, he’d known a storm was coming. They had been just days out from the Burke job when Eliot’s nightly routine of cooking dinner was interrupted by him Dropping so hard and so fast it was more luck than anything that he didn’t impale himself on his own knife as he collapsed to the floor.
There had been a moment of shocked silence. Most of the crew was gathered, getting ready for dinner.
There had been a single moment of dread, before any of them could make themselves move, where they wondered if Eliot’s time was up and he was just d…
“No!” Parker was the first to break through the shock, crossing to Eliot’s side in a flash, relief clear in her voice as she called out to the rest of them. “He’s alive. Just Dropped hard.”
Nate and the rest followed, he could see Eliot’s eyes moving under his lids like he was having a nightmare.
“It’s like the bar,” Hardison said. “Only, you know, without him trying to kill everyone.”
“What could pull him down that fa-“ Sophie started but Eliot’s eyes flew open.
He whispered something in Greek before slumping into unconsciousness.
Nate looked toward Hardison but it was Parker who translated. “He said. ‘Now. Little sister. The game starts now.’”
When Eliot had woken up he hadn’t remembered anything. When told what he’d said Eliot had only been able to guess. When they’d saved the Reader named River on their first job, they’d established a connection of sorts by accident. He thought maybe that connection was part of what triggered him at the bar. Someone was looking for her.
Judging by what had just happened, they might have found her.
They spent the next few days trying to find any information on where Simon and River had ended up. Although the reasoning was rarely mentioned they all understood. If Simon and River fell into enemy hands the Alliance could very well come after Leverage soon after.
It was eighteen hours before Hardison showed them the footage he’d found from some bar's security feed, using the footprint left by the alliance and a little bit of instinct. It was an eerily familiar scene, a regular bar, the fruity Oaty Bar commercial, then suddenly there was River going into kill mode until Simon used her safeword.
It was only a small comfort to see the stranger who picked River up do so with care, and that Simon left with him willingly. They seemed to have allies.
“What can you tell me about him?” Nate asked, pointing to the man who had walked out with the young Reader.
Hardison typed for a minute before pulling up a record. “Malcom Renolds, captains a Firefly-class named Se… Serenity. He was a Browncoat in the war for Independence. Officer.” There was something tight and unsteady in Hardison’s voice but now wasn’t the time to prod at old wounds. “Volunteered.”
“So not likely to turn her in,” Nate said. “How long ago was this?”
“Two days. Maybe?” Hardison answered, turning away from the screen, clenching and unclenching his hands. Curious. “Then they go off the grid but…”
“What?” Sophie asked, the first of the rest of the assembled crew to speak.
Hardison turned back, tapping to bring up different screens. “About five minutes after I found this footage I found a bulletin that there’d been a shooting in the same bar.” He turned back, looking over Nate’s shoulder to Eliot. “Witnesses say one guy came in, incapacitated anyone who tried to stop him, killed two brothers, and got out.”
“Sounds familiar,” Eliot said, his voice harsher than usual. “Sounds like an LTO from Olympus making a point.”
Nate glanced toward Eliot.
“It’s how I would have done it,” he finished.
“I did a search,” Hardison explained. “I’ve been getting mixed reports but I’m pretty sure I’ve found three or four other incidents within the past two hours that seem like the work of Operatives or the Alliance.”
“Keep looking, let me know as soon as you find anything,” Nate said, shifting the pieces, wondering how it would turn out.
Sixteen hours later Sam’s voice crackled over the Ship’s intercom and the crew, gathered for breakfast, abandoned the meal.
What felt like only a handful of seconds later they were standing on the bridge, watching wordlessly as an alliance scientist revealed the fate of Miranda and the origin of the Reavers.
As the scientist was taken down, Dean’s hand shot forward, turning off the screen. The silence echoed with her screams.
No one knew what to say. No one knew what they could possibly say to that.
~*~
A week.
A week later the crew was mostly in bed and Nate was sitting at the conference table when a voice he’d never really thought to hear again greeted him. “Hello Nate.”
“Sterling.” Nate said, looking up, suppressing his surprise at the sight of the man. They were in the middle of space. It wasn’t exactly conditions that aided to someone dropping by. If nothing else Eliot should have been racing up here with a warning of an intruder before Sterling ever got inside.
“Lovely place,” Sterling said, looking around. “Very homey.”
“What are you doing here?” Nate said, not standing, though trying to mentally send Eliot a warning. He’d experimented at various points to try and work out whether or not Eliot would be able to pick up on thoughts directed to him. He'd had mixed results, but right now it was better than nothing.
“Simple,” Sterling responded. “I came to tell you a little story.” Sterling leaned against the table, putting down a small tumbler and sliding it to Nate to fill. “Nine days ago my brother Brian, you remember Brian?” Nate did, he’d teased Sterling mercilessly, when he'd found out that his colleague's brother had become a Crime Lord, and started calling himself Badger. “Well, he was the target of an attack. Now, he was prepared and he survived, but as you can probably imagine he was fairly curious why he'd been targeted. As his older brother, so was I.”
Nate poured some scotch into the glass, took a drink, and slid it back over to Sterling. “Go on.”
“I did some digging. As it turns out some of his business partners had annoyed the Powers that Be in the Alliance by harboring two fugitives. I did some poking around, called in a favor a certain upstanding citizen on New London owed me, and found their trail. Then I just so happened to stumble across this.” He pulled out a data sheet and spread it out on the table. It started playing the footage from the bar during the Burke job that Hardison had been so careful to delete. “Now seems to me, that right there is Eliot Spencer. And that man? Looks very much like Alec Hardison. I’d imagine that woman to be Parker, though we’ve never been properly introduced. Funny thing is, this was dated less than a month ago and all three were declared dead more than six months ago.”
Amongst the fear and adrenalin, Nate scrambled mentally for a con, but he had the sinking sensation he was caught in check mate by a move he’d never seen coming. “What does this have to do with me?” Nate asked.
“Other than the fact these three revenants are asleep in the crew quarters of your ship? The job they did with you as their handler was the last and only time the three were in contact. You can see where I got my suspicions. After that I just followed the trail of crime right back to you.” He took a sip from the glass and returned it. “Now this was in the files of a different agency, and you know how the agencies don’t play well together, but I imagine they’d be interested to know that three of their agents are alive, well, and have reverted to their old ways.”
Old ways…
After the better part of a year it took Nate a moment to remember that, to most of the verse, the agents of Olympus were thought to be reformed criminals putting their skills to better use. Almost no one knew the truth.
“The Alliance is in chaos right now. That little video has whole worlds in an uproar. I could call an alliance ship right now, turn you lot in. But who needs the paperwork?” He perched on the table with a very pleasant smile. “So instead I come with offer of a trade.”
“What do you want?” Nate asked, not letting relief show through his glare. Just another of Sterling’s games. Not the end of this.
“Collin,” Sterling said.
It took a moment to remember. Nate almost thought Sterling was talking about the Hacker Hardison had been telling him about.
But there was something in Sterling’s expression, a look Nate had only seen once before.
Six years ago they’d been discussing a case when Sterling had received a message. He’d opened it without bothering to move away from Nate and read it what must have been a dozen times before looking away, that expression echoed on his face.
It had been another two years before Nate had found out the message was confirmation of a lead on Sterling’s missing brother. The youngest of triplets, Collin had never made much for himself in the way of fame or fortune, just a regular worker with a wife and son on a rim world, before he had disappeared without a trace nearly a decade ago.
“You got a lead?” Nate asked.
“Of a sort,” Sterling answered. “More like just a few too many rumors about a project codenamed Hell for my liking and a few too many cases of mistaken identity for it to just be Brian. With the Alliance as unstable as it is right now it’s the best chance anyone might have of tracking down those rumors and finding the source.” He tapped the data pad. “Unfortunately this mess also means I’m busy right now.”
“So you want my crew to track down a secret government agency and find out if they’re responsible for your brother’s disappearance?”
“If you do that in the next six months I won’t tell the Alliance that three of its agents who know too much are out making mischief on the rim,” Sterling told him. “And the Alliance won’t be forced to kill everyone your little Robin Hood endeavor has saved to draw you out of hiding.”
“Six months you say?” Nate said, glancing to the file. “Not much time.”
“You’ve got the best thieves to ever be sanctioned by the Alliance on your payroll. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Without so much as a backwards glance he slipped out of the room.
Nate had a lot to consider before morning.
Later he’d imagine he felt Eliot enter the room before he saw or heard the reader.
“Ship’s getting pretty crowded these days,” Eliot commented, taking the glass from him and sitting down. “I need to take Parker and Hardison and run?”
Nate shook his head. “We’re safe. For now I think.”
Eliot nodded. “’Verse is going crazy. Some days I find myself missing the simple life.”
“When exactly has your life ever been simple Eliot?” Nate commented with skepticism.
Eliot drained the glass and slid it back toward him before standing. “I’m gonna go make sure he didn’t leave any surprises. Get some sleep or I ain't feeding your drunk ass in the morning.”
Nate watched him go, fade into the shadows beyond the conference room, and looked to his empty glass.
He was out of alcohol, but for some odd reason he felt better all the same.